It’s probably for the best that she’s gotten Rowan to bring her home, anyway. My back is starting to ache as much as my head, and Daisy doesn’t need to catch this, too. I’m still thinking over my reply to her when there’s a soft knock at the door.
“Come in,” I rasp, wincing at the pain in my throat again.
“Landry?”
I cough and try again, but my voice only gets worse. I end up having to text her.
She opens the door carefully and keeps her eyes on the ground. “Everything okay?”
“Fine. Just a sore throat,” I strain to get out.
“You don’t sound fine.” She looks up, and her brows draw in closer. “And you look terrible.”
I shake my head, but it makes me feel drunk again, and I have to close my eyes and lean back against the headboard to keep from falling out of bed.
“Do you have a fever?” she asks, her voice filled with concern. I feel her hand on my forehead a second later, and I reach up to push it away.
“No, stay back. I’m contagious,” I force out.
“Oh gosh, you’re burning up,” she exclaims. “Have you taken anything yet?”
I shake my head and realize I’m shivering. She clicks her tongue in annoyance and stomps out of the room, and I close my eyes again. Just before I drift off to sleep, the light flickers on. I flinch, and the movement makes my whole body ache.
“Come on, sit up and take this. We have to break your fever,” Daisy says. Her hands are on my shoulders, pulling me up to a seated position, but her voice sounds distant.
“Just let me sleep,” I whine.
There’s a beeping sound before she redoubles her efforts. “Your temp is almost a hundred and three degrees. If you can’t man up and take this ibuprofen, I’ll have to replace these blankets with ice packs.”
My teeth chatter when I whimper in protest.
“Then get your bubble butt up and take these meds right now,” she demands.
I’d smile at that if I wasn’t struggling just to comply. I barely manage to lift my head as she puts the pills in my mouth and brings a cup to my lips. It takes all I have to swallow it down.
“I know you’re already cold, but you need this,” she says and drapes a damp cloth over my forehead.
“Thank you, Daisy,” I whisper. And it’s the last thing I remember before I’m out again.
The next time I wake up, I find myself drenched in sweat. I groan and push the dampened sheets away, noticing the smell of eucalyptus in the air. My head’s still thick, but it’s not as bad as before, and my muscles are weak but less achy.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” Daisy asks before I open my eyes.
I peek through a small crack in my eyelids to find her sitting at the edge of my bed. “Better,” I wheeze. “What are you still doing here?”
She lifts the washcloth from my head and replaces it with a fresh one. “I couldn’t just leave you here to die,” she replies dryly. “We did say ‘in sickness and in health.’ ”
“I wasn’t …” I stop and cover my mouth to cough before I continue. My throat still feels horrible. “I’m not dying. It’s probably just strep throat. And the last thing you need is to catch it.”
“You were so pitiful earlier that I considered calling someone to help me get you to the emergency room.”
I roll my eyes, but even that movement hurts. “It was just a fever. Obviously, the ibuprofen did its job.”
“When’s the last time you ate or drank anything, besides sipping water with your medicine?”
“That depends. How long have I been asleep?”
She frowns. “You took that first dose around nine in the morning. I woke you up at eleven to give you some acetaminophen because you were still running a temp. It’s nearly one in the afternoon now.”
