“Oh, dear,” I tease, even though my heart feels anything but light. “Silas Tate not getting what he wants. The world is going to stop turning.”
He eyes me over his glass. “I’d spank you for that, if I had the energy. You need to sleep.”
“I’m fine,” I say softly. “Why don’t you lie down?”
He doesn’t argue with me. Not even a little bit. Although he refuses to take off his shoes, laying back on the mattress with his arms crossed. “Wake me up in ten minutes if I fall asleep.”
I don’t respond. He’s already asleep.
And his temperature creeps up, hour by hour. My stomach flips, twists, as I move between him and Ellen, checking them constantly. The only sound they make is coughing, the noise digging into my head, making it ache.
Dawn is creeping through the windows when Kit arrives at my door. “Stasi.”
His eyes are bright, his voice slurring my name. Too bright. And then he coughs, a hacking, rattling sound.
Shit. Shit,shit.“Where’s Rafe?” I ask him as I pull him over to a mattress. He mumbles something. “Kit!”
“Outside,” he rasps. “Walk.”
My head jerks towards the door. “When?”
I shake him, desperation making me harsher than I’d like. “When, Kit?”
But his eyes are closed. A sob slips out of my throat as I look around.
Don’t panic.
Most people come out of it within three days. That’s what Silas said, what the doctor on the phone told him.
I can get them through until then.
I check them once more before leaving, my heart in my throat as I push the back door open. “Rafe!”
There’s no answer. I take a few steps, squinting out towards the orchard. A figure is sitting beneath the tree, and my feet slowly break into a run.
I race down the path, my heart pounding in my throat. “Rafe!”
Nothing. And as I drop down beside him, I already know what I’m going to find. His skin is flush with the fever, his eyes barely open. “Stas…i.”
“I’ve got you.” I cast a look towards the house. It suddenly feels like thirty miles away. “I need you to help me, Rafe.”
He tries. He really does, but his legs won’t hold him up enough to walk more than a few steps before he collapses to his knees. “Leave… me here.”
“No.” My voice is strong, strong enough to cover the shaking of my hands. “I need you to get up.Please, Rafe.”
And I manage to pull him up, sliding his arm over my shoulders. He’s heavy, and my muscles begin to scream as I drag him, inch by painful inch. My lungs scream, but I don’t stop.
“Nearly there,” I gasp. “So close, Rafe. We’ve got this.”
He doesn’t answer, but his legs are still moving. The sob breaks free as we reach the kitchen door. “Okay. We’re going to the sitting room. Silas and Kit are there, Rafe. Just a few more steps.”
The steps.
I want to scream as we reach them. Scream, cry, throw something.
But I drag Rafe’s arm higher. Holding onto it tightly, as I lift.
Three steps.
