His skin was burning hot.
He blinked slowly, and for a moment he seemed lost.
“You have a fever.”
“I’m fine.”
I lingered another moment, his scent surrounding me—like smoke and cedarwood. Then I rocked back onto my heels.
“You’re definitely sick.”
When he didn’t say anything, I muttered, “You should get to bed.”
He shook his head. “I need to fix the loose railing on the back steps.”
I frowned at him disapprovingly.
Roman was always doing little fixes around the house between getting off work and going to bed. Honestly, he was exhausting in the way he never seemed to slow down or rest. Of course he would refuse to go to bed, even when he was sick.
“The railing can wait.” I used the tone I reserved for stubborn toddlers. “You need rest.”
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll take some Tylenol. It’ll be fine.”
He didn’t sound fine. He didn’t look fine either.
My expression hardened. “If this is what Hailey had, it was pretty nasty.”
He opened his mouth—probably to downplay it—so before he could, I grabbed his hand and pulled.
“Let’s go,” I said.
Roman was big and broad enough that I couldn’t have moved him an inch if he didn’t want to be moved, but he relented anyway.
“Where are we going?” he grumbled.
“I’m bringing you to bed.”
17
Palmer
Romangrumbledtheentiretime I led him up the stairs, but he didn’t pull away. Which surprised me. I fully expected the big, broody fire chief to refuse me outright.
When we reached his bedroom door, I slowed to a stop.
An uncomfortable feeling slid through me.
I had never been inside Roman’s room. During my first week, I’d asked whether I should collect his laundry, and he’d shut thatdown immediately. He could handle his own things. Since then, I’d avoided this room like it was off-limits.
As I hesitated, Roman’s hand tightened around mine.
“I’m fine,” he said, but he sounded uncertain and tired. “I can take care of myself.”
I tensed. “Well, you don’t have to.”
With that, I mustered every ounce of resolve and pushed his bedroom door open, tugging him inside.
His room smelled like him—cedarwood, but without the usual hint of smoke that clung to his clothes after long shifts at the station.
