“Where are you going?” I ask.
He blinks at me. “With Haley.”
“No, no, you’re staying here.”
He puts a hand on his hip in that most delicious way. “And why is that?”
“Fever,” I say coolly. “Not good for you to travel.”
“I don’t have a fev?—”
Haley presses the back of her hand against his forehead. “Mylo, you’re burning up! You shoulddefinitelybe in bed with a fever like that.”
“I think you’re right, Haley. He caught some weird flu on the plane. Maybe you’d better get back to the cat on the sooner side in case it’s contagious.”
Mylo glares at me while Haley nods with concern.
“Oh, that’s a good idea,” she says. “I’m so sorry you’re sick again; that’s dreadful luck. I wish I could stay and help.”
“I don’t need to stay, and I don’t have a fever,” Mylo grumbles.
I stand and grab the plates from him, heading into the kitchen. “A thermometer will solve this little argument, won’t it? I’m sure there’s one around.”
A minute later, the thermometer from the first-aid kit in the hall closet is under Mylo’s tongue. When it beeps, I show it to both him and Haley. “One-oh-two.”
“Mylo!” Haley gasps with distress. “No wonder you fainted earlier!”
I keep my face neutral. “The fresh ocean air will do you good, I think.”
Mylo glowers at me. “I’m not some Victorian invalid.”
“Could’ve had me fooled.”
“Take care of yourself, Mylo,” Haley pleads. “And tell me as soon as you’re better.”
Mylo begrudgingly accepts his fate and checks his phone. “Signal out here is kinda crappy…”
I go check the cupboard by the hallway, where the inner door is lined with sticky notes. “The house has a sat phone; I’ll give you the number. And I’ll call Lana tonight. Also…” I snatch Mylo’s unlocked phone out of his hand, ignoring his protests as I tab over to settings and punch in the WiFi password. “Now your calls and messages will go through just fine.”
Mylo’s out of excuses, so he joins me in saying goodbye to Haley and waving at her as she pulls back out onto the narrow road.
When I turn around, Mylo’s already gone, and a trail of his warm citrus scent leads out back. I follow him to a swinging loveseat where he’s pulled his knees up to his chest and sits in a little ball.
I sink down next to him, sprawling my arms across the back and side, and letting my legs hang wide as I push into a gentle swing.
“So I’m stuck with you again, huh?” Mylo says, eyes still out over the western horizon where the sinking sun turns the ocean into a blazing mirror.“Funny. Didn’t seem like anybody dragged you here against your will.”
He’s quiet, glaring at the sea.
“You were that worried about me?” I manage a teasing lilt.
His eyes fall to the low, twisting branches of a nearby oak.
“You’re shivering,” I add. “Do you want to go inside?”
“No.”
“Okay.” I keep the swing in a steady, slow rhythm as the breeze ruffles over us, still holding some of the day’s warmth. I can be alright while that breeze stirs his scent in the air. I’m not thinking about what comes after.
