“Yeah,” he says into the phone. “Abigail’s sick. She’s running a fever. Lightheaded. No breathing issues that I can tell, but her throat is pretty swollen by the sound of her voice.”
I groan and bury my face in the blanket.
“You’re so dramatic,” I whisper, really wishing I had some hot tea.
“About you?” he says calmly. “Always… Thanks, brother. I’ll see you in a bit.”
He hangs up and moves to sit on the coffee table in front of me, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on my face like I might evaporate if he blinks.
“Patch is coming over with some meds,” he says. “I’m sorry I didn’t check on you sooner. I was out with the men at Maverick’s place.”
“I’m fine,” I start.
And then my lungs betray me.
A coughing fit rips through me so hard my eyes water. My chest burns. My head pounds. For a solid ten seconds, I’m convinced this is how I go…taken out not by cartel members or kidnappers, but by mucus.
He’s on his feet instantly, hand braced at my back.
“Easy. Breathe, baby. Slow.”
Eventually, death decides I’m not worth the work and backs off.
“I just need to sleep it off,” I rasp.
“Let’s agree to disagree,” he says gently. “I’m going to run to my house real quick and change clothes. I came straight here when I got back after Sunny said she knocked on your door and you didn’t answer.”
“She did?” I mumble, trying to replay the day through the fog. “Weird. Anyway, don’t bother coming back. I’m just going to bed. I’ll lock up when you leave.”
He stands, but his eyes narrow.
“Five minutes,” he says. “And when I get back, you better be right where you are.”
“I’m still locking the door,” I say, closing my eyes.
“I have the key, babygirl,” he replies, and I can hear the smirk in his voice.
Crud.
He does have the dang key.
“Your brother’s on his way over with your phone,” he adds. “Now get some rest. I’ll be back in a few to take care of you.”
“I can take care of myself,” I mutter into the blanket. “I’ve been doing it alone for years now. I can handle a freaking cold.”
There’s a pause.
Then his voice softens in a way that makes my stupid heart squeeze.
“Maybe so. But my head is out of my ass now, and I’m here to take care of you. Please, Abigail. Let me do this. Let me help you.”
Double crud.
“I’m extra needy when I’m sick,” I warn. “Just ask my brother.”
“She’s an absolute nightmare,” Spike says from somewhere near the door.
I didn’t even hear him come in.
