“Hey, you, come back to Earth,” Hank said, interrupting my swerve into I-don’t-even-know-what. “Let’s get you onto the couch. I’ll take care of your ladies, and then I’ll fix my guaranteed sinus-clearing meal.”
“For someone who doesn’t like cooking, you sure know a lot about it,” I pouted.
Hank took my hand and led me toward the stairs. “Unless I want to go out every single night for food, it was easier to learn how to cook. And if I don’t want shitty food every single night, then I might as well learn to do it well. What I haven’t been able to do is teach myself to like it.”
As he spoke, he stopped in the kitchen and riffled through the cabinet. I hadn’t bothered to go through it after I saw it was Sissy’s junk drawer. At some point, I knew I’d need the extra thread and batteries scattered in there.
“Ah-ha! We got meds.” Daddy tucked the packet into his pocket and then ushered me out the back door to my own little cottage. Once inside, he gently led me to the back bedroom.
“Let’s get you in comfy clothes, and then you can plan your funeral on the couch.”
“I thought you said I wasn’t going to die.”
“You’re not, but I know you’re looking forward to it.”
“True story.”
In short order, Daddy had me in lounge pants and a ratty T-shirt from my balloon animal days. He grabbed my pillow and blanket before ushering me back to the living room and pointing me to the couch.
“Go lie down, and I’ll put something on for you.”
I was too worn out to argue and didn’t really want to. I’d let Daddy take over and worry about all of it. If I could just exist in the moment, I’d take it. When he looked at me for something to watch, I waved my hand and collapsed back onto the cushions.
“Okay, I’ll pick. Nature documentary, it is.” The soothing tones of a generic British accent filled the room. The show focused on the savannas of Africa. Ha! No wonder Hank stopped there.
While I quietly plotted potential methods to scoop out my eyeballs, Daddy went to the kitchen and fetched some water for me to use to swallow down the medicine he’d found inside the main house. When he gently raised my head off the pillow, I about lost it. How could this man be so sweet and still manage to ghost me for days on end?
And that was my last coherent thought before I slipped into blessed oblivion.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Daddy called from where he sat at the dining room table. He had a computer and a bunch of files laid out in front of him, and a pair of glasses that were a new addition. They gave him a sexy teacher vibe.
“Not sure I’m alive,” I croaked. The medicine gave me some relief from the sinus pressure, but it left my head feeling fuzzy, and it didn’t do much for my raw throat. Holy god, I had never had allergies this bad.
“If you’re not, then you’re the cutest ghost I’ve ever seen.”
I actively sat on my hands to avoid giving this man the finger. He was not allowed to flirt with me after ghosting me for most of the week—except…I was so glad he was here and had made at least some of my problems disappear. And dammit, I hated to even admit it to myself, but I had missed him. His grumpiness that was mostly out of habit, the sweetness, the low-key flirting—when it was removed, I missed it. And I wanted it back, but I only if he wanted to give it to me, and oh my god, this was making my head hurt worse.
“Here, take something for your headache,” Daddy said after he crossed the room with some pills in his hand. “I’m sorry I can’t give you any more allergy medicine yet. Here’s your cup with some apple juice.”
“S’okay.” I obediently swallowed down the pills he offered and finished the rest of the juice to give my throat some relief.
“You want some more?”
I shook my head no, set my sippy cup on the table, and collapsed back on the pillow.
Wedged next to me on the couch was my ancient stuffed puppy. I’d had it since before I could even remember anything, and when all else failed, clutching him to my chest always made me feel better. Today was no exception. Daddy sat on the edge of the couch and brushed my hair off my forehead. When he leaned down and kissed my forehead, I swear it felt like a brand.
“Do you think you could eat something?”
“Daddy, my throat hurts.”
“I know, but this will help clear your head, and your throat will feel better when all that gunk is gone. Can you try to eat just a little bit?”
I nodded weakly but didn’t make a move to get up from where I lay on my pillow.
“Thank you, sweetheart. Lie back down while I get it ready. You need to go potty?”
“Yeah.”
