I want to tell both of them where to shove it, but that will only lead to more arguing. So instead I take a small bite of the omelet. And then a nibble of Blake’s creation.
Chewing. Swallowing. These are things I used to find easy. But my head aches and my stomach isn’t at all sure about this. I chase another bite of omelet—heavy on the kale—with a syrupy bite of donut.
“That’s health food right there,” Blake crows.
Jess puts her hands on her hips and begins to argue. And I can’t take it anymore. The room spins for a moment before my vision clears, but the rush of nausea that floods my gut only gets stronger.
“Fuck,” I choke out.
I heave myself off the couch. The hall bathroom seems too far away, but I just make it, slamming the door behind me and then bending over the toilet to ralph my brains out.
I'm still gasping and trembling when I feel warm hands on my shoulders. My vision is fuzzy again. A cold, wet cloth sweeps over my face.
“You need to go back to bed,” Jess says softly.
I think she might be right. So I clean myself up for a second and then stumble to my room. I crawl under the covers and listen while Jess and Blake yell at each other over whose breakfast made me boot.
The wooziness stayswith me all day. I think I’m pretty feverish, but I don’t say anything, because I don’t want any attention. Rest is the only thing I need.
Jess claims that we’re low on groceries, which may or may not be true. But she sends Blake out with a list, maybe to keep him busy. The two of them forget about me for a while, which is perfect.
I have more fever dreams, though. There are periods of complete confusion when I open my eyes and don’t know where the hell I am. I feel cold, my entire body breaking out in shivers as ice flows through my veins. No, wait, I’m hot. It’s blistering in this room. Jesus Christ, do we live in afurnace?
I frantically rip off my hoodie and sweats, but the fabric just stays tangled around my limbs.
“Furnace,” I say to the walls. “Feel like a furnace.”
The room doesn’t answer back.
The next time I wake up, it’s dark out. I don’t know what time it is, or what day.
I don’t know why I’m so out of it. They told me I didn’t have the sheep flu. They said it was just the normal flu, damn it. I should be getting better.
So why do I feel worse?
I miss Wes. I want Wes. Did I talk to him today? I don’t remember. But I want to hear his voice. Instead, I hear a strange sound, like a Chihuahua and a Rottweiler mating. There are weird little yips and low grunts, and the low hum of the vibrating chair.
Weird.
I’m just trying to make sense of the noises when the phone lights up on the nightstand. Even though I’m bleary, the display clearly says WES, and I’m overjoyed.
“Hello?” I slur into the phone. “Do we have dogs?”
TWENTY
WES
Call me crazy, but all the way to Nashville I worry about Jamie.
Even as the taxi from the airport pulls up in front of the stadium, I just keep picturing things that could go wrong. Maybe Jess’s plane will get grounded during her layover in Denver. Maybe Jamie will get dizzy and hit his head and end up lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood…
Damn it. I need to stop letting my imagination run away with me. I’m not usually a worrier. But my spidey sense is uncomfortable, and I can’t figure out why. It’s probably just the shock of seeing him so sick in the hospital. Maybe I’m not over it yet.
I type Jess’s flight information into the airline’s app once more and find that she landed safely hours ago.
Unless she missed her connection, and her phone is dead…
The security guard opens my door, and I pay the cab driver and flash my ID for the guard.
