Page 24 of Solo

“Some Tylenol. And finish the whole glass, you’re probably dehydrated,” he advises.

I gulp the water and hand the glass back to him. That’s when he extends his hand toward my face. Before I can stop myself, my eyes are shut tight and I’m cringing into the couch cushion, as if bracing for an impact. When none comes, I open my eyes. His hand still outstretched, eyebrows arched in surprise.

Oh! Oh no! What the hell did I just do?

“I was just going to feel your forehead,” he assures me very quietly.

“I—uh—I thought…” I stammer, unable to finish the sentence, because there’s simply no tactful way to recover.

He straightens up, letting his arm drop to his side.

“You thought I was going to hit you?”

He sounds beyond incredulous. He sounds offended.

“No! No, of course not,” I lie. “You just…you startled me is all,” I say, summoning a little indignation of my own.

“Well, I’m sorry, Miss Brenner, if I startled you,” he replies coolly. “That was not my intention.”

Shit. I’ve really pissed him off. Or freaked him out. Probably both.

“I thought you might like to lie down for a little while,” he says, handing me a thick, fluffy pillow. “There’s a blanket over the back of the couch there. I’m going to have my dinner in the kitchen. Just call out if you need anything, I’ll hear you.”

He starts to walk from the room before I can speak.

“Thank you, Dr. Markham. For everything,” I call after him.

He just looks over his shoulder briefly and gives me a curt nod.

Well, there’s no un-ringing that bell. I take the pillow and lay it flat on one end of the couch, and stretch out before pulling the blanket over me.

Ugh. I’ll just have to deal with the fallout from that mess later. For now, I can’t keep my eyes open another second.

Chapter Ten

Drew

I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. And, while that had been a pleasant prospect when I was here alone, it’s a goddamn nightmare now. I’m too pissed off to concentrate on cooking anything so I just stomp around the kitchen, fixing myself a sandwich. I sit at the island, tearing angry bites out of my sandwich, not even tasting them.

Christ, did she think I would—that I could—lay a hand on her? The idea that she’d think me capable of such a thing is beyond offensive. I think I’d better address this right here and now, because the last thing I need is her going back to school and telling Maureen that she felt threatened. Not only would that squash any chance I have at tenure, it could end my career.

I leave my half-eaten plate and stalk back down the hall, talking before I’m even through the doorway.

“You know, Miss Brenner, I have to say that I find it—”

I stop short. She’s lying on the couch, blanket kicked to the floor. She’s breathing heavily, panting really, her head tossing restlessly from side to side.

“Miss Brenner?” I ask, moving closer.

No response. When I bend to pick up the blanket, I notice the perspiration pouring off her face, which seems quite flush all of a sudden. I put a hand to her forehead. She’s burning up. One glance out the window tells me there’s no way in hell I’m getting her to a doctor. And even if an ambulance could get through, the closest hospital is nearly an hour away. Her brain might be deep fried by then. No, I’ll have to handle this myself.

“Miss Brenner?” I ask, giving her a slight shake. Watery, glassy blue eyes open. “We have to get your fever down, okay? I’m going to bring you upstairs.”

Her eyes close again with no response. I bend down and pick her up easily. Somehow, she feels lighter than she did when I carried her in from her car. Has she always been this thin?

She moans in discomfort as we start up the stairs and to my bedroom.

“Shh,” I say softly, trying to comfort her. “You’re going to feel better soon.”