“Why are you so dehydrated?” I ask him.
“Wasn’t paying attention to my body,” he says in a simple answer.
“You always pay attention to your body,” I say.
“Things change,” he answers as he finishes his bottle of water.
“Yeah, that much is clear,” I say and uncap another bottle for him, but he doesn’t drink it right away. He just holds it, holding the bottle on his thigh while he rests his head, his eyes shut. “Why do you have all of these little scars on your chest?” I ask.
“What scars?”
I point at one on his pec. “These?”
He glances down and shrugs. “Who fucking knows.” He slinks farther down and takes a deep breath. “Give me a moment, then I can make you lunch.”
“Have you lost your mind?” I ask him. “You’re not making me lunch. Jesus, Keller. You just threw up hours ago because you’re clearly not doing well. You’re no use to me if you’re not taking care of your body. I mean, why would you even go on a walk this morning if you weren’t feeling well?”
“Needed to make sure it was secure,” he answers almost absentmindedly.
“You need to chill,” I reply. I lift the pretzels and hand them to him. “Here, eat these. I’ll grab some fruit and cheese if your stomach can handle it.”
“I’m fine, Lilly. I don’t need you waiting on me.”
I take a deep breath and in a steady voice, I say, “Stop trying to be a prideful hero. Just give me today to get you back to where you need to be, and you can do whatever the hell you want to do tomorrow. But Jesus Christ, Keller, just take a moment to fix your body.” And with that, I leave for the kitchen.
If he follows me, I’ll scream. I don’t understand men sometimes, particularly Keller. Doesn’t he know that every human shows weakness at one point or another? No one is perfect.
It’s infuriating.
I look through drawers and cupboards, and when I spot a few bottles of Gatorade, I grab one and bring it into the bedroom. Instead of sitting up and drinking, Keller is once again curled into his pillow, sleeping.
Well, that took a few seconds.
I’ll leave him like that for now.
I go back to the kitchen and find the dinner he made me last night. I decide I can have that for lunch, so I heat it in the microwave and turn on the TV, keeping it low. There are no channels, but there’s a DVD player and some DVDs of old shows. I go withI Love Lucy, because at least I can keep things light around here.
Sitting on the couch, cross-legged, I eat my lunch and focus on the show, rather than letting my mind wander about Keller.
* * *
“Lilly,don’t . . . no, don’t take her,” Keller says from the bedroom. It’s been another hour since he last went back to sleep. Is he dreaming?
I move to the door and prop it open.
“Don’t fucking take her,” he says again. “Please . . . no . . . Lilly!” He jackknifes off the bed, startling me so hard that I bang my head against the doorframe.
I grip my head and watch the confusion in his eyes move from terrified to realization that he’s in this cottage, with me.
“What . . . what happened?” he says, glancing around, his chest sweaty.
I rub the back of my head and say, “You were dreaming.”
“Is there anyone here?” he asks, panic in his eyes.
“No.” I shake my head and walk over to the bed. “Just you and me.”
“I need to make the rounds.” He goes to move, but I press my hand to his damp chest to keep him still. His heart is beating rapidly.
