“Okay,” Josh says, even though he doesn’t sound sure. He stands and pulls the covers up to my chin. “I’m going to run to the pharmacy and get some things that might help you. Will you be okay for a little bit?”
I don’t look at him, my eyes are already closed again. “I’ll be fine,” I murmur into the pillow. “Just go.”
* * *
I’m notsurehow long I sleep but a while later, I awaken to the faint clatter of pots and pans and the smell of something nostalgic. Soup. I have no appetite and my body aches like I climbed Mount Everest, but appreciation for the man in the next room fills me up. In the past, if I was sick like this, I was on my own. If I called my dad, he’d drop food or medication on my front stoop, but I’d wave him off, never wanting to share my germs.
Josh doesn’t think twice about it. He’s in my kitchen, moving around like he belongs there, and every small sound from the other room tells me what I must mean to him. Before I can stop it, my eyes fill with self-pity tears and I sniff them quickly away, wiping the fallen ones with the back of my hand.
Josh must hear me because he bolts for my room. He stands in my doorway, leaning into the frame. “You’re awake,” he rasps.
I shake my head. “Barely,” I murmur, wincing. My whole body throbs.
“How about some more liquids?” Josh doesn’t wait for me to reply—he darts to the kitchen and returns with a bag with the local pharmacy logo on it and a water bottle. “I got you some electrolyte powder with immune support and some ibuprofen.” He strides over to the bed and sits at my feet. “Can you sit up?”
I push to my elbow on one arm and hold out my hand for the water bottle, taking a sip. Ice-cold lime flavor fills my mouth and a knot forms in my stomach. Hunger. It’s quickly followed by a wave of nausea.
“I made you soup.” Josh rakes a finger through his hair. “I’m not sure it’s any good but I tried. Nobody likes that canned shit.”
“Thank you,” I murmur. “I don’t think I’m ready to eat anything.”
Josh puts a palm to my forehead. “You’re still really hot.” Then he cracks a smile, “Literally and figuratively.”
My eyes fill with burning tears again, and I rapidly blink them away but fail miserably.
Josh’s face falls. “Hey, baby, what’s wrong?” He inches closer to me.
“I just feel so awful. And you’re taking care of me. You made me soup,” I wail, falling back on the pillow.
Josh gets up from his spot at the foot of the bed and kneels down beside me, thumbing away a tear. “Hey, of course I did. I’m here, babe. I’m not going anywhere.” He strokes some hair off my forehead that got wet with my tears.
I sniffle and nod. “Thank you. I’ve never had anyone take care of me before.”
Josh pushes his lips into a line, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. He quickly changes the subject. “I want you to take some meds and I got…” He pauses, rummaging in the bag. “I got you an at home flu-COVID test. If the results are negative, you need to see a doctor, Mel. It’s not normal for an adult to have a fever this high.”
“I don’t like things in my nose.” I shoot him a suspicious look and hug myself, leaning away from him.
“Come on, babe. Don’t you want to feel better?” Josh quirks an eyebrow. “Then we can get back to making music?”
“Fine,” I grumble. I force myself to sit up and hold out my hand. Josh puts Tylenol Cold and Flu capsules in my palm, and I toss them back.
“When they wear off, you can take some Advil to stay ahead of the body aches.” The corner of his mouth quirks. “Now, it’s time for the test. Do you want to do it, or shall I help you?”
I furrow my brow and pout.
A playful curve touches Josh’s mouth. “Mel, we just talked about this. You can go back to sleep after.”
“Fine.” I huff out an exasperated breath. “You do it,” I mutter sullenly.
“What was that?” Josh leans in, cupping his ear, a teasing glint in his eye. “I didn’t hear you.”
I relent, sighing. “I would really like it if you could help me with it.”
Josh leans forward and kisses my forehead. He is so unafraid to catch whatever this is, and his closeness brings me so much comfort. “Good girl,” he murmurs, before moving his mouth from my forehead. “You’re still really warm.”
He reads the back of the test packaging, ensuring he knows just how to do it and then he opens it. “Rest back on the pillow and close your eyes.”
I do as I’m told, settling in, ignoring the ridiculous fact that even with whatever this mysterious illness is and perhaps the highest fever I’ve ever had, Josh still makes desire pool between my thighs.
