“Not until after Charlie shows up.”
That is not the answer Andrew was looking for, but he’s too exhausted from talking so much that he doesn’t reply. Instead, he lifts his head in search of his phone. Nicki grabs it off the end table, passing it to Andrew who wastes no time in making the call.
“Annie, there you are. You’ve been ignoring me,” Charlie says, voice loud since it’s on speaker phone. “I texted you last night and this morning. Have you been playing house husband with your sexy hockey player? “
Nicki makes a horrified sound.
“Oh, is that the sexy hockey player now? What’s hanging, Nicholas, my man? Are you being good to my brother?”
Andrew would smile at Charlie’s teasing, playful tone—at how easily Charlie is welcoming Nicki into his fold solely because he’s important to Andrew—except he feels too shitty. A feeling made worse by the guilt currently drowning him at making Nicki worryandhaving to ruin Charlie’s night. He must have better things to do than hang out with Andrew, especially when he’s not going to be good company.
“Your brother was passed out on the fucking bathroom floor when I got home.”
The line goes deadly silent.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Andrew tries, not wanting Charlie to panic, too.
“It is as bad as it sounds,” Nicki challenges. “Don’t trust him.”
Andrew is both deeply offended and also oddly touched. It’s confusing to feel both, especially when all he wants to do is go back to sleep so he’s not conscious enough to be so acutely aware of his own misery.
“I have to be at the rink in an hour. You need to come stay with him.”
It’s blunt and abrasive, and so very Nicki. Andrew half-expects Charlie to make a remark about Nicki’s manners or a joke about Andrew agreeing to this when he’s spent so long convincing everyone that he likes to be alone when sick that he’s caught by surprise when Charlie does neither.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes, Annie.”
* * *
“Where is he?”
From Andrew’s position on the couch where Nicki carried him, and tucked him in, he can’t see Eden at the front door,but the angry pitch of his voice is unmistakable. The guilt he managed to shove to the side resurges knowing Charlie brought Eden too. Now they’re both going to be here bored, exposed to germs and worrying.
“He’s on the couch,” Nicki answers.
Seconds later, Eden appears, a deep frown on his face. Then again, he usually frowns, so it’s not much different to his normal expression, though Andrew can’t help but notice for once he’s not wearing makeup. It makes him look so much younger.
“If you die, I’ll kill you.”
“Why does everyone keep thinking I’m dying?” Andrew questions.
“Maybe because you passed out,” Charlie answers, making a beeline for Andrew. He drops to his knees, laying his hand over Andrew’s forehead. He closes his eyes, unsure why Charlie’s gentle touch has him trembling. “He’s burning up. Shit.”
“His temperature was 102 ten minutes ago,” Nicki says. Andrew cracks his eyes open, not about to pass up an opportunity to see him in his game day suit. Compared to his usual stylish attire, it’s subdued, but he still looks handsome. “He took something right before you got here, but he won’t eat.”
“I don’t wanna throw up,” Andrew explains.
“Oh, Annie.”
Andrew fidgets with the blanket in his lap, feeling like a child. He can’t remember the last time so many people fussed over him. Three people looking at him with such intensity has his fight or flight activated. Especially when everything is so raw.
Refusing to cry, Andrew squeezes his eyes shut tightly before burrowing under his blanket to hide. He’s a grown man for gods sake. This is absolutely ridiculous.
“I’m going to make soup,” Eden says before stalking out of the room without another word.
“He was really worried. He’s never seen you sick. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you sick. I know you prefer being alone?—”
“No, he doesn’t,” Nicki interrupts.
