My promise to never commit to anyone is likely the reason nobody else has ever taken care of me, though. It’s the reason I’ve always felt the need to fend for myself.
Still, I never expected that Damon would be the one to ever take care of me like this, and it rattles me to the core. It makes my heart do a weird, fluttering sensation.
Should probably Google that symptom. Maybe my cold’s worse than I thought.
“I don’t want this,” I say, placing the plate on the bedside table.
He grumbles, “You’re impossible.”
“I don’t have an appetite, but that doesn’t mean I want to eat tasteless food. You couldn’t have at least gotten me a jam? Is this how you take care of sick people? Oh, I have a great idea. There’sthis cafe near Camrose that serves lavender-honey croissants. Can you get me that?”
“I think half the city’s shut down because of the snowstorm. There are croissants downstairs though, and I think they had honey.”
“But do they have lavender?”
“I have no fucking clue what you even mean by that. And, again, the cafe’s probably closed because of the snow storm.”
“What snowstorm?” I point out the window. It’s still snowing but definitely not as horrible as it was last night. Now that I know he’s the kind of person to take care of a sick person, I’m not letting him get away. “Please don’t let your sick colleague die of starvation, not after you almost let hypothermia get me.”
“You weren’t hypother—” Damon snaps his mouth shut and groans, pressing his palms against his eyes. The sight of it thrills me. Makes me grin wide and vibrate with happiness. “Fine! I’ll try to find you your stupid lavender-honey croissants later, but this is what we have right now.”
“Awesome!” I collapse back on the side of my bed. Instantly, I wince, because the sudden movement makes my head throb. I inhale slowly as the room spins.
“What?” Damon challenges. “You still feel like shit, don’t you? Maybe stop trying to be irritating and listen to me. Eat, hydrate, then rest.”
“I love this side of you.” I grin at him, trying to refocus my eyes because there’s currently two blurry versions of him.
He grabs the plate and puts it on my lap, glaring at me until I bite into the bagel.
“Disgusting,” I say dryly. “You’d think for a hotel this fancy, they’d have bagels with actual seasonings on it.” The corner of Damon’s mouth lifts, and I gape at him. “Theydidhave better bagels. I swear to God, Damon, if you’re only feeding me this gross shit all day, you’re going to wish I actually did perish ofhypothermia. If you thought I was annoying before, you’re in for a ride.”
That finally gets a reaction from him. He snaps his attention to me, his mouth dropping. Excitement rushes down my spine. Damon says, “You can actually get more fucking annoying?”
“You’ll see.”
I swear by how his face pales, you’d think he was the one who was sick.
***
Despite my grand plan of annoying Damon enough for him to get actual food, I spend the rest of the morning in bed. All my joints are in pain, my throat’s sore, my head’s throbbing, and sleep is a lot more appealing than watching that vein on Damon’s forehead threaten to implode.
Damon wakes me up after I’ve been sleeping for what feels like the entire day—and nobody’s more surprised than me when my phone says it’s only 12:30 p.m.
I squint at him. There’s a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup on the bedside table.
He points at it. “Eat.
I scrunch my nose. “Do you think I’m a child!?”
“By how immature you’re acting, I believe so.”
“You said you’d get me my croissants.”
“Surprisingly, not much has changed in the last few hours. Most establishments are still closed.”
“Damon,” I say sternly.
“Ellis,” he returns. He points at the bowl, and I pretend that the aroma isn’t making my mouth water. “Please be a little less difficult right now.”
