“Man flu?” He rolls his eyes. “It’s just a little cold.”
“Yeah, that kind of man flu,” I say, ignoring his lie. “There are two kinds of man flu: the one where the guy acts like a helpless toddler as soon as he gets the sniffles and the one where he acts like it’s no big deal as his internal organs liquefy and his brain melts from fever. You’ve got the latter, just like my dad used to get, and this soup is for that.”
He laughs, but it morphs into a thick cough. I try not to cringe and hand him the bowl as soon as he stops. He sits up and takes the bowl but seems skeptical. “I’m not hungry.”
“I know, but you have to eat it,” I reply. “It will help.”
He takes a sip. “I’m surprised I can even taste it, I’m so congested, but it’s good.”
“It’s fabulous,” I correct him with a grin but inwardly, I’m really nervous about how sick he is. I’m worried I should call Dr. Whittaker. Holden, though, is worried about something else.
“I have to get some more bodies in here tomorrow,” he says between spoonfuls of soup. “Even with your help, it’s not going to be enough.”
“I agree. Especially because if you are even half as sick as you are right now, I’m not letting you out of this bed,” I say firmly and he looks instantly frustrated. “You getting so sick you can’t do the roof job after this is going to defeat the purpose.”
“I’m going to have to find other guys then,” he murmurs and puts the soup bowl on the night table. He finished a little more than half, so that’s better than nothing. He reaches for his phone, which I plugged in and left on the other night table. His frown gets deeper and deeper as I watch him scroll through his contacts. “Mike and Dave were working for a discounted rate, because I promised they’d be permanent hires once my company got going. I don’t know many other people who would be willing to do that. And the ones I do know…”
“What?” I prompt gently when he doesn’t finish his sentence. He looks up at me, his eyes clouded.
“Kidd has the experience and he’d do it for any cash, no matter how discounted,” Holden says and my face twists with disgust before I can stop it. “I know. He’s the worst possible option. Forget I said anything.”
He goes back to scrolling through his contacts. I clean up the kitchen and pour him a glass of water as he calls two guys. Turns out both have other jobs right now. I walk back over and pick up his soup bowl. “Call Kidd,” I say and start praying I don’t regret it.
“I know you hate him. I’m not a fan either. I’ll find something else.”
I shake my head and tuck a chunk of hair behind my ear when it comes loose of my low ponytail. “We’re out of options. Just call him. It’ll be fine. It’s just a day or two and I’ve still got my left hook if I need it.”
Holden smiles in amusement and relief. “I’ll punch him myself if he acts like an ass.”
Kidd agrees to come work on the house starting tomorrow morning. Holden wants to get up and continue working now, but I don’t let him. He argues but I win. As he drifts off to sleep, I tiptoe outside to call Dr. Whittaker. My eyes land on Cat’s grandmother’s necklace, resting on the shelf by the front door.
Holden may take responsibility for how things played out when he was a kid, but I blame Kidd one hundred percent. And I get to spend most of the next forty-eight hours with him. Oh joy.
22
Holden
I sneak into the cottage as quietly as I can to take a look at how things are going. If Winnie catches me, she’s going to pitch a fit. Dr. Whittaker came to the house last night, thanks to Winnie calling him, and he said I have severe influenza B. He gave me Tamiflu and told me I was on bed rest for at least forty-eight hours. I thought that was overkill, but now that I’m up and walking around, I realize it wasn’t. Every single muscle in my body aches. My joints are stiff and I’m still feverish. But I can’t stop myself from checking on the guys.
Kidd showed up, remarkably on time at seven in the morning and to my surprise Dave was back. He said he wasn’t a hundred percent, but his fever and aches were gone and he wanted to help out for at least a few hours. I was beginning to think that this job might end on time, but I still wasn’t relaxed about it. I hated that I wasn’t there working with them.
I quietly walk up the porch stairs and slowly open the screen door, hoping it won’t squeak. I can hear them talking. Dave is telling Winnie about his kids. “They just started Thornton Academy. Can you believe I have kids in high school? I can’t.”
“That’s awesome. Do you like Thornton? Is it a good school?”
“They love it. Pam and I like it too. All the teachers are great,” Dave explains. “They’re a little short staffed though. I think they’re looking for more math teachers and a biology teacher. Are you interested?”
“I don’t know…,” Winnie says vaguely and it hits me…we haven’t talked about whether she’s going to stay in Maine. We never got that far, but if she’s not interested in a job…maybe she’s thinking of heading back to Toronto. Or San Francisco to be with the rest of her family. Maybe she thinks we can do this long distance. The idea makes me feel sicker than the flu. I don’t want long distance, but I also don’t want to leave Maine. Does she expect me to if this continues?
“What are you doing up?”
Her voice startles me out of my thoughts, and I blink and realize I was standing frozen on the porch. Like a tool. She is holding a paintbrush as she walks over to me in a pair of jean overalls her hair in pigtails. “Do you need something? Are you feeling worse?”
Oh my God, she’s fucking adorable. I smile but shake my head. “No, I’m feeling a little better, so I wanted to check in.”
“Hey, Hendricks,” Kidd calls and pops his head out from the kitchen. “Don’t come too close, dude. I don’t want to catch your disease.”
“Yeah, yeah, how’s the sink coming?” I call back. He grins and I wonder if he’s been to a dentist once in his adult life.
