“Sure,” I croak. “Thank you.”
Logan leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Be right back.”
I doze as he boils water and prepares the tea. Feeling like shit is exhausting. When he comes back into the room, he has to help me hold the cup as I take careful sips of the hot drink. He’s right, it does help soothe my throat a bit.
“Do you want to watch a movie? I brought my laptop.”
“I don’t want you to get sick.” Because yes, I do want to watch a movie in bed snuggled up against my boyfriend. But he has a game tomorrow, and he can’t afford to catch whatever this is.
“I loaded up on vitamins, and I always get my flu shot. I’ll be fine.”
I should argue with him, but I don’t have the energy. Instead, I watch him stride out of my room, returning a moment later with a backpack. Once his laptop is out, he pulls the covers back and gets into bed with me. He opens a streaming app and scrolls through hundreds of options before landing on a recent rom-com. With the screen settled on his lap, Logan wraps an arm around my waist and tugs me to the side so my head rests in the space between his arm and chest.
“Just rest and let me hold you,” he murmurs.
I’m asleep within minutes.
Logan pressesa kiss to my forehead and whispers that he has to go to practice, but he’ll be back. I’m still half asleep and mumble a goodbye before my eyes slip closed again.
When I wake up feeling somewhat refreshed for the first time today, it’s to the sound of laughter and conversation in the other room.
I’m still sweaty and my throat hurts, but between the sleep and the medicine, I at least feel capable of walking to the bathroom on steady legs. I do my business, brush my teeth and hair, and wash my face before shuffling into the main part of the apartment. What I see has my heart swelling up more than my throat.
Logan moves around the kitchen, cooking something, while Reed sits at the dining room table with a book and notebook open. The savory scent of celery and chicken stock permeates the apartment, adding to the homey warmth of the scene. It’s impossible to look away, and something fuzzy and bright lodges itself behind my ribs when Logan tilts his head to the side, considering the answer when Reed asks him for help with his homework.
Then a tickle starts in my throat, and I cough.
Both men turn and look at me with concern. Logan is quick to close the distance between us.
“Hey, you’re up.” He brushes a curl off my sweaty forehead before pressing the back of his cool hand to my skin. “You don’t seem quite as feverish. How are you feeling?”
“A little better,” I rasp, letting him lead me over to the couch. Logan helps me sit down, then he wraps a blanket around me, tucking it beneath my ass and back so I’m cocooned in fuzzy warmth. “Not great, but better.”
“Good.” He kisses my forehead. “I’m making soup. I know you weren’t hungry earlier, but you need to eat something.”
Reed ambles over with a glass of water and presses it into my hands. When they shake, he helps me bring the glass to my lips so I can take a few sips, then he sets it on the coffee table. His voice is rough and hesitant when he speaks. “Hey Blair-Bear. You hanging in there?”
I nod. “Thanks for calling in reinforcements.”
“Of course. I was worried about you.”
I see it then. There’s more to his expression than simply being worried I have a bad cold. Beneath the thirteen-year-old bravado shines the eyes of an eight-year-old boy who lost his parents. A boy who’s had the rug ripped out from beneath him once already, and knows even the most mundane, normal series of events can lead to your world falling down around you. Even if this is nothing more than a bad cold, it’s touched on a deep fear he may never fully shake.
What if I was really sick, and he lost me? Who would Reed have then?
Suddenly, his fear is my own.
Reaching out, I wrap my arms around my little brother, who’s no longer so little. I crush him to me and stroke his head. The need to reassure us both is a fire-breathing monster clawing at my ribs.
“I’m okay. It’s just a cold, Reedy. I’m not going anywhere.”
My little brother chokes back a sob, and I hold him tighter.
“I know. You’re all right. We’re both fine.”
When I pull away, I find Logan watching us intently. There’s deep affection in his steely gaze, but there’s also deep longing. My brother isn’t the only guy in this room with a damaged little boy peeking out through older eyes right now.
Holding out my hand, I invite Logan to join our hug. He only hesitates for a moment before bending over both of us and wrapping his arms around Reed and me. It feels right in a way I can’t express.
