Thick, dark blond lashes flutter before I’m finally met with bloodshot hazel eyes. “Mir?” He grimaces. “I don’t feel so good.”
Running my fingers through his sweat-slicked hair, I hum my understanding. “I bet. You have a fever. I’m going to get you some water and meds. Can you sit up?”
Griffin groans, his usually graceful movements replaced by a jerky shakiness that makes my stomach twist with worry. It takes him too long—and my eventual help—to leverage himself into a sitting position. “What time is it?”
I glance at his phone. “Almost five-thirty.”
“Shit,” he mumbles, twisting onto his hands and knees. “I’m gonna be late for practice.”
“Babe.” His skin practically sizzles when I grab his shoulders and force him back into a seated position. “You’re not going to practice today. You can barely sit up, let alone lift weights or skate.”
“I’m fine,” he says unconvincingly. The man winces as he says it, his eyes falling closed.
“Sure. You’re totally fine. That’s why you can’t even keep your eyes open.” I grab my cell after I pull the blankets up over Griffin’s legs and kiss his forehead. “Stay right here. I’ll be back.”
I can’t help glancing back at Griffin as I hurry from our bedroom and into the kitchen, where he keeps first aid supplies in the pantry. After grabbing the Tylenol and filling up a glass with cold water, I call my brother.
“Mi-Mi?” Maddox’s gruff voice is low, like he’s trying not to wake Isla. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
I huff out a soft chuckle. “Why would you assume something’s wrong?”
“Because it’s not even six yet, and I know what a grumpy ass you are this early in the morning. What’s wrong?”
“Fine,” I say with a sigh. “Something is wrong.”
“Do you need me to get you? Are you safe?” I want to be annoyed at Maddox’s protective schtick, but honestly, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
“Chill, Maddy, I’m fine.”
My big brother lets out a sigh of relief.
“It’s Griffin.”
There’s a beat of silence. “What about him?”
“He’s burning up, Maddy. I think he’s really sick. There’s no way he’ll be able to drive to practice, let alone skate, or whatever you’re supposed to do today.” More silence stretches out between us, and I fidget, my feet cold against the kitchen tile.
“So why are you calling and not him?”
Does he sound suspicious? “Because he can’t even keep his eyes open. I had to wake him up. His alarm must have been going off for almost half an hour.” It’s not a lie, but it’s definitely only half the truth. I know I made it sound like Griffin’s alarm woke me up all the way in my own room and not because I was sleeping next to him in our bed, so hopefully that’s how my brother takes it. “You need to tell your coach he won’t be there today.”
Maddox grunts. “Yeah, all right. Do you need me to bring him anything?”
“No, I’ll take care of him. You go to practice. Besides, the last thing the team needs is another player down with the flu or whatever this is.”
“Thanks, Mi-Mi. Call me if you need reinforcements. He can be a big baby when he’s sick.”
I chuckle at that. “Aren’t all guys?”
“Touché, Mira. Touché. All right. I gotta get going. I’ll check in later. Love you.”
“Love you too, Maddy. Have a good practice.” Balancing my phone, the glass of water, and the Tylenol, I pad back into our bedroom to find Griffin still sitting, but his eyes are closed and his head lolls to the side. Soft little snores puff out of his slightly open mouth.
Damn, he’s cute. Yes, he’s sick, and I’m worried about him, but there’s something so innocent about him like this. I switch the water and Tylenol to my left hand and quickly snap a few photos with my phone before softly calling his name to wake him up.
“Griffy? Wake up, babe. I have medicine for you to help bring your fever down. And water. You need to stay hydrated.”
My husband stirs, blinking owlishly at me, his gaze unfocused. “Hmm?”
