Rose rubbed her throat. “I think I might be—”
“Getting sick.”
“I’m fine.”
“You sneezed on me.”
“I sneezednearyou.” She sneezed again.
Lizanne went to the bathroom and came back with a glass of water and tablets. “Drink that and get in bed.”
“I’m fine. We have plans—”
“We do, but if you’re getting sick then you’re getting sick. Now. Get in this bed and let me take care of you. And hopefully tomorrow, you’ll feel better. If not, we’ll go to the sanctuary another day.”
And thus, Rose did the only thing she could do. Get in bed and hope for the best.
Chapter 24
Lizanne
At seven in the morning, Rose tried to claim she was fine. She said it in a voice that sounded like crushed glass, followed it with four violent sneezes, and had to slump onto the edge of the bed.
Lizanne pulled the duvet back up. “Stay put.”
“I have to get Daisy up. Quinn is leaving and—”
“I’ll get Daisy.”
Rose squinted at her, her eyes glassy with fever. “You’ll get Daisy up?”
“I am capable of waking a child, Rose.”
“She has a whole routine—”
“Rose.” Lizanne tucked the duvet around her, her hands lingering for a second too long for it to be just about the blankets. “Bed. Now. I can manage.”
She managed to sound more certain than she felt. She beat a retreat down the hall before Rose could start listing the ways this would inevitably go wrong.
Quinn was already standing in the pool house doorway with his bag over his shoulder.
“Where’s…”
“She’s sick,” Lizanne said.
“Got it.” He shifted the bag. “Daisy’s already up. She was briefing the bear when I walked past.”
“I’m on it.”
Quinn looked at her in that particular way he had—assessing, not quite unfriendly, but not exactly warm. Six weeks of filming and they had managed to exist in the same house without ever actually talking, which was its own kind of skill.
“You’re good with her,” he said. “Rose, I mean. And the kid.”
Lizanne didn’t offer him anything back.
“Rose doesn’t let people take care of her. Hates it, actually.” He picked up his bag. “So. For what it’s worth.”
***
