16. Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Hudson
I search her profile for a few beats, frustration bunching my shoulders. She’s confused. That’s what this is.
“I just need my insulin and to rest and I’ll be ok,” she says, turning her head slightly to make eye contact with me. What I see isn’t confusion, it’s resolution. She isn’t budging and I can sit here and argue with her, or I can get her to her insulin.
“Please,” she whispers, and I can’t say no. Not with the way she’s looking at me like this decision isn’t mine to make.
I sigh and navigate toward town. When I get to Main Street, instead of turning right toward the edge of town, I make a left and head in the direction of her place.
“Thank you.” She sighs and relaxes back into the bucket seat when she realizes we’re going home and not to the hospital.
I nod, though I don’t feel happy about it. My eyes roam over her before going back to the road. “How are you feeling? ”
Eyes closed, she tips her head back onto the headrest and blows out a long breath. “Like ass,” she says weakly. At least she feels well enough to try to joke.
“Did you pass out?”
“I don’t know.” When I glance over at her, her brows are furrowed. “Maybe,” she finally answers. “Probably.”
Four minutes later, we pull into the garage. I shut off the truck, then climb out, coming around her side to help her down. She lets me lift her out, but she refuses to let me carry her inside.
“I can walk,” she says. Still, I keep a close eye on where she’s walking, and my fingers stay wrapped around her elbow until we’re inside.
“You want to lay on the couch or in bed?” I ask and cross to the fridge to grab her insulin. Maybe she just forgot to change the cartridge in her pump and unhooked it all. But when I open the fridge, all that is there is Paige’s insulin. How have I not noticed there was no insulin for her in here?
She’s on her way to the stairs, and I can just see her tumbling back down them. So, I rush to her side. She’s not waiting, and by the time I get there, she’s already a third of the way up.
“Where’s your insulin?” I ask from behind her.
“On my nightstand,” she answers after a few seconds. She’s dragging ass up these stairs, but I know she’ll tell me no if I try to carry her.
“All of it?”
Her sigh comes out irritated, and I know it’s just her high blood sugar making her prickly. But it’s what she says next that has me wondering just what the fuck is going on with my best friend. “Yes,” she bites out. “It’s all I have, ok? Just help me to the bedroom and I’ll be fine.”
Fine. If this is the way she wants to play it, I’ll drop it for now. But we are having this conversation at some point, whether she likes it or not. I stay behind her while we climb the stairs, and when we get into her room, she sits on the edge of the bed. Her hands are resting on her thighs, palms up, and her shoulders rolled in. It doesn’t look like she’s going to make a move to change out of her dirty clothes, take her insulin, or anything.
I crouch in front of her and untie her shoes, before pulling them off. I look up at her from the floor to find her watching me.
“What’s going on, Finn? Where is your pump?”
She doesn’t answer me. Just leans over and grabs an insulin pen from the nightstand, clicking a dose. She fumbles with the needle a bit, but once she has it connected, she lifts her shirt to expose her abdomen. I watch her press it to her skin and inject herself.
She sighs and falls back against the bed, her feet still on the floor.
I take the pen from the open hand laying on the bed next to her thigh. “Socks on or off?”
“Off,” she says and throws an arm over her eyes.
I pull off her socks and stand up. She looks so small, so tired. “Do you want help with your clothes?” I ask, and it’s then that I notice she’s crying.
Shit.
I sit next to her, with one leg on the bed and the other hanging down, my foot resting on the floor. I run my hand over her other arm, hoping it’s comforting instead of intrusive. I know how she can get overwhelmed when she’s upset. So, I just sit in silence and wait her out; she’ll talk if I just keep quiet and give her space to do it.
“I don’t have a pump anymore,” she says into the quiet of the room.
“Ok,” I say. “Why?”
“It broke at the first of the year.”
My first instinct is to immediately assume she’s been too careless to get a replacement, because what other reason is there? But that doesn’t sound like something she would do, especially with something so important to her health. All it would take is a phone call to her insurance. She’s busy, but she’s not that busy .
The initial flare of anger I felt at her being reckless dissipates when it hits me that I saw her mostly naked when I watched her strip on the Fourth of July, and I never noticed it was missing. Granted, at the time, her diabetes was the furthest thing from my mind, but still, isn’t that something I should have noticed when I was watching her undress like a creepy asshole?
No, because you were too busy thinking with your other head, dick .
“Your insurance will cover all of this stuff,” I say instead. “The pump should be under warranty, no?”
“It would,” she huffs out a humorless laugh, “if I had decent insurance.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused.
She lifts her arm and turns her head on the bed, finally meeting my eyes. “It doesn’t cover anything.”
I scoff. “They should cover everything.”
She shakes her head. “Not this insurance. And even if it did, I still couldn’t afford the copays.”
I run a hand down my face. “Is that why you don’t have any insulin?”
She sighs. “I do have insulin. I just don’t have enough. It’s rent and food or medication.”
What the fuck?
Is she telling me she’s been rationing insulin? Wouldn’t I have known that? Why didn’t I know that? Admittedly, I haven’t been paying attention to whether or not she still had a pump. She had one. I saw it at Christmas when she was visiting Paige and me in New York. I’ve been so wrapped up in getting Paige settled and trying to keep myself from jumping Finn every time I see her, I’ve completely missed that my best friend is struggling to get the life-sustaining medication she needs.
Thinking back, it all makes sense. Her dizzy spells—although they can be attributed to low blood sugar, they can also be a symptom of it being too high. Her guzzling water and running to the bathroom all the time. It all makes sense. I thought she was just not eating, not paying attention, but it wasn’t any of that.
“Is your monitor still working?”
She nods, arm still slung over her face.
“And that.” I nod toward the nightstand, even though she isn’t looking at me. “Is that your last pen?”
When I look back at her, she lifts her arm and rolls her eyes at me. “I don’t want a lecture, either.”
“I’m not going to lecture you.”
“Why do I feel a gigantic ‘but’ coming?” she asks sarcastically. She must be feeling somewhat better, as her sassy attitude is returning.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I swipe my thumb back and forth over the wrist resting on her abdomen. I hate that she’s been struggling this whole time and I didn’t know. “I could have helped you get what you need; replaced your pump.”
She rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Those are like, ten grand, friend.” She’s pissed. “And don’t tell me you can afford it.”
“Well, I can,” I say anyway.
She groans and sits up. She grabs her head in her hands and leans in, dropping her head on my chest. My arms come around her, and I rest my chin on the top of her head. She’s turned at an awkward angle, but she doesn’t seem to care.
“Headache?”
Her voice is muffled against my shirt when she nods and speaks again. “Yeah, and I really have to pee. Can you help me to the bathroom?”
“Come on, clumsy,” I tease, trying to lighten her mood some and help her stand. Teasing is our default; it makes us who we are to each other.
She’s a little wobbly, but we make it there ok. She hesitates on the threshold.
“I’m so cold,” she says. “Can you help me get into the shower?”
I look down at her and nod, but I hesitate to leave her alone. “Will you be ok? What if you pass out?”
She glances at the shower stall, considering my words. I will absolutely sit in here while she showers just so she’s ok, but I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. And also, fuck if that doesn’t sound like the most excruciating kind of torture.
The shower doors in this place are completely see-through. I’d be sitting in the same room, facing the wall and trying to keep my dick under control while she’s naked. But I’d do it. For her. And now, I feel like a complete creeper, because here I am, thinking about seeing Finn naked while she’s sick.
“I can sit,” she says, gesturing to the built-in bench in the shower.
I nod and turn on the shower, then maneuver her toward the toilet. “You need help getting undressed?”
She nods and my gut tightens as she tries and fumbles with the buttons on her jeans as steam starts to fill the small space. She drops her hands and her shoulders slump away from her ears.
“My hands are too weak,” she says, turning exhausted eyes up to mine. Her bottom lip sort of pouts out, and now that she’s feeling slightly better, I can let out a sigh of relief.
“Here, let me.” I reach for her waistband. She steadies herself with a hand on each of my shoulders, while I pop the button on her skinny jeans. The air feels thick as fuck when I move to pull down her zipper. I can do this. I can undress my best friend, and it means nothing. I’m an adult and she needs me.
She lets out a sigh and moves her hand to the top of my head when I bend to slip her jeans down her hips, exposing her black lace panties. It’s an image that will be burned into my brain until the end of time, but I’m going for stand-up best friend here, and not a creeper who pops a chub when she’s so vulnerable. So, I avert my eyes and focus on working her jeans the rest of the way down her legs.
I motion to the toilet with a tilt of my head. “Sit down, baby.”
Her quiet voice cuts through some of the tension I’m feeling being this close to a more than half-naked Finnley. “That’s the second time you’ve called me that,” she says. Running a hand over my hair, her fingers come to rest just behind my ear.
Damn, these jeans are painted on her legs. I glance up at her, realizing she said something. “What?”
“Baby,” she says. “You’ve called me that twice. Once on the phone and again just now.”
Did I?
“I hadn’t noticed.” And I honestly hadn’t. “Sorry.”
“It’s ok,” she whispers and then works her pants down her ankles, alternating with each foot until she’s able to step out of them. I try not to notice how her thighs rub together as she moves.
When I stand up, she lifts her shirt and tugs it off over her head, leaving her standing there in just her sports bra and panties. I avert my eyes—again—and step away to test the shower water.
“Will you be all right?” When I turn back to her, she’s perched on the toilet lid, removing the elastic from the thick, dark braid over her shoulder.
She nods. “I’ll call for you if I need you,” she says, unwinding her braid and slowly raking her fingers through her hair from scalp to ends. Her movements are still slow, but her coloring looks a little better and her words aren’t slurred like they were before. She’s definitely looking and sounding more like Finnley. Still, I don’t completely trust that she won’t pass out again or lose her balance in the shower. So, I want to stay close.
“I’ll be right outside, ok?” I turn to the doorway to leave, but her voice stops me.
“Huddy? ”
I turn back to look at her, my hand on the doorframe. She looks so beautiful sitting there, her long dark hair cascading over her shoulders, coming nearly to her waist.
“Yeah?”
She uses her pointer finger to scratch a spot just above her upper lip. “I think I want to be downstairs. Can you get my fuzzy blanket?”
I nod. “Sure. Anything else?”
She hums, thinking. “The heating pad?”
My lips tip up. “Of course.”
“And sweats and some panties?” She looks at me questioningly, with a little glimmer of amusement in her eye.
I chuckle at the laundry list of things she wants me to gather. It’d be easier just to stay in bed, where all of her things already are. But I don’t mind. I actually love that she’s letting me take care of her, and I can keep a better eye on her if she’s in the living area.
“You got it. Anything else?”
“One of your hoodies?” she asks and gives me the first real smile since I picked her up at Timber Haven. “The NYU one with the frayed sleeves.”
I nod and notice even her coloring is more like normal. A lot of the flush from her cheeks has disappeared, even in the warm bathroom.
“Be right back, ok?”
She gives me a warm, little half smile that makes my heart stutter in my chest. “Thanks.”
I nod and leave the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I make my way around her room, opening drawers. I find a pair of underwear, then grab a pair of white sweats from the stack in the laundry basket next to the bed.
My eyes land on the insulin pen on the nightstand and I pick it up. It’s still mostly full, but if she’s been rationing insulin, and this is her last one, she’s going to need more, and soon. With a glance at the bathroom door, I quickly rifle through the small plastic bin on the nightstand and find the insert for her prescription from a mail-order pharmacy. Folding it in half, and then in half again, I shove it in the back pocket of my jeans and leave the room.
Across the hall, I scoop up the hoodie I wore last night from the hook on the back of my bedroom door, and then search the linen closet for the heating pad.
I can’t hear the water running when I press my ear back to her bathroom door. So, I knock before cracking the door slightly. “Jameson, are you ok?”
“Just getting dried off.” Her voice sounds a little stronger now, too. All good signs.
“I’ll just open the door and set these on the sink, ok?” I step into the bathroom, still filled with steam from the shower. I keep my back to her, setting the clothes on the counter.
“Thanks, Huddy.”
I nod and turn back to the door. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving, actually.”
“How about some soup?”
“Chicken noodle sounds amazing,” she says, and I can tell she’s out of the shower because her voice sounds closer. “I’m decent. You can turn around now.”
She’s squinting, looking around the counter, when I turn to face her. She’s wrapped a towel around her body, tucking it right above her chest. She must have already removed her contacts.
“Can you see my glasses?”
I tip my head back toward her bedroom, trying like hell to not notice how that towel hugs every curve of her body and the wet curtain of her hair hanging down her back. “They’re on the dresser.”
“I’ll be down in a few minutes,” she says .
I close the door behind me and head downstairs to start her soup and make a few phone calls.
An hour later, her soup is gone, her blood sugar is within normal range, and she’s sound asleep on the couch next to me with her feet resting in my lap. I lean over and gently remove her black-framed glasses, before folding them up and setting them on the coffee table. She lets out a contented sigh and snuggles deeper into the fuzzy purple blanket covering her. The Transporter plays quietly in the background, but I barely notice.
Running a hand over my face, I let my head drop back against the thick cushions of the couch. An incoming text vibrates my phone on the coffee table, and I grab it quickly so it doesn’t wake her.
I read the text, and I’m immediately hit with guilt. She will most likely be pissed at me when she finds out what I did. But that doesn’t matter. The only thing that does is getting her what she needs so she’s well. And if that means she’s mad at me, then so be it.
Wren texted a while ago to let me know she and Hank picked up Paige and took her back to the ranch to hang out. I don’t like the thought of leaving Finn when she isn’t feeling well, but now that her blood sugar is where it should be, she should be fine.
I carefully lift her feet, so as not to wake her, and slip off the couch. Heading into the kitchen, I find a notebook and a pen to write her a quick note, letting her know I’ve gone to the store and I’ll be back shortly. When I was warming up her soup earlier, I noticed we were out of a few things, including the hummus and protein crackers she likes so much. I quickly make myself a list and include those items as well as some other stuff Paige has been asking for, then grab my keys, phone, and my wallet and head for the garage.