He pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. “You’re burning up.”
“You’re late to the party,” she rasped, then coughed. “I told you. I’m sick. Now do you mind leaving me be?”
“Not today,” he said gently. “Not with a fever like that.”
He kept his tone calm. “Let me help, okay? You can say no to any of it—but I’m not leaving you alone like this.”
“But you just got off a shift.”
Fighting his irritation, he guided her toward her bedroom. “You’re going to lie down. I’m going to bring you some water and a few ibuprofens. Then I’ll be right back.”
She muttered something that he didn’t quite hear, but he didn’t bother asking her to repeat herself. She wasn’t used to leaning on anyone—he could see that. But he also knew this wasn’t the day for stubbornness to win. Once in her bedroom, he helped her under the covers. After he brought her water and some meds, he went through her cupboards and refrigerator. There wasn’t much, so he made a list of everything she might need while feeling under the weather.
The current flu going around lasted about a week. She’d need all the rest she could get. Hopefully, she wouldn’t fight him every step of the way.
Mathew made a stop at his mother’s place, and sure enough, the clothes in the washer only needed some adjusting. He promised her he’d stop by before his next shift with some dinner, then headed for the store.
By the time he returned to River’s place, she was asleep. He set to work unloading all the groceries he’d purchased and getting started on a pot of soup.
Mathew pulled the pan of boiling chicken off the stove and set it aside. Then he resumed chopping celery and carrots. Once all the vegetables were prepped, he could add the bouillon to the water and boil the vegetables and the egg noodles.
He wasn’t a cook like Jason by any means, but he’d learned a thing or two about cooking food that was good for illness. Perfecting this recipe specifically had felt like a rite of passage when he’d chosen his current career.
While he worked, he let his thoughts drift to the woman in the other room. She was similar to his mother—or rather the woman he’d remembered when he’d been growing up. Headstrong and independent. She’d been so supportive of her husband, too, even if he didn’t deserve it.
Mathew had seen the signs. He’d noticed how lonely she became when his father was late to dinner or refused to attend family functions because of work. And yet she kept her chin held high and never spoke a single word of her discontent. She loved her husband and family more than anything.
Movement caught his eye, and he glanced up to find River standing in the doorway to her bedroom. She didn’t look any better. The pallor of her skin almost had a green tint to it. The hair at her temples was damp with sweat.
He dropped the knife he had in his hand and rushed across the room. “What are you doing up?”
She frowned at him. “What are you still doing here?”
“Hey.” He crossed to her fast. “You look like you should still be resting.”
“I’m fine,” she said, though this time her voice wasn’t nearly as steady.
“River,” he warned, “you’re not going to get better if you don’t take care of yourself.”
“That’s what I’m doing.” She folded her arms and leveled him with a stare, but then she wobbled and had to catch herself on the doorjamb.
He exhaled, fighting for patience. “River… let me help. Just for today.”
“Why?” she demanded.
“Because I care about you.”
Her eyes widened slightly.
Mathew cleared his throat. That wasn’t supposed to come out. This was not the time. And yet a part of him felt relieved that he’d let it slip. She had to have known, right? He’d been honest about his intentions.
River’s expression softened and she looked away. “I don’t want to lie down anymore. That’s all I’ve been doing all day. I at least need to take a shower.”
Mathew fought the urge to touch her, to cup her cheeks and beg for her to just give in and let him do what he was good at. But she was stubborn. And if he were honest, he wasn’t well-versed in this side of things. He couldn’t recall a single time he’d stayed home with Victoria to take care of her.
Then again, his ex wouldn’t be caught dead without a full face of makeup. She would have likely shoved him out the door and insisted he stay in a hotel until she was feeling better, if only to save herself from looking unattractive. Victoria wanted his time, his attention, his adoration, but she didn’t want to appear weak to anyone.
That was one thing he’d done wrong, not insisting he care for her when she actually needed it.
