Page 26 of Solo

She nods again, her eyes still closed and I lean forward with her in my arms until the back of her head hits the water, as if I’m baptizing her. I’m able to dunk her just far enough back so that her long brown hair floats out around her head like some sort of halo. As the towel absorbs the water, it adheres to her body tightly, forming a perfect cast of her breasts.

Okay, okay. Look at something else.

With my hands underneath her shoulder blades, I bring her back up slowly. She immediately wraps her arms around me again and we sit like this in silence for another ten minutes, until I’m confident her temperature has dropped. It’s a little trickier getting out of the tub now that both of us are soaked and dripping. Finally, having carefully extricated us, I set her down on her feet on the bath mat, one arm around her slender waist. With my free hand, I reach for a large, dry bath sheet, unfurling it so it acts as a privacy curtain for her, then I guide one of her hands to my shoulder to steady her.

“Okay, I’ve got you, go ahead and let go of the wet towel.”

She allows the wet one to drop with a sloppy, soggy smack onto the tiled floor and I flip the one I’m holding horizontally so I can wrap it around her. “Do you need to use the…do you have to go to the…”

She shakes her head no, confirming my suspicions that she’s dehydrated. I lower the lid on the toilet and help her to perch there while I grab a towel for myself.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back,” I call over my shoulder as I walk back into the bedroom, my sodden boxers dripping all over the carpet. I shuck them as quickly as I can, dry off, then pull another pair from the dresser along with fresh jeans and a sweatshirt. Once I’m redressed, I turn down the made bed and rummage for something dry that Katherine can wear, finally settling on a long-sleeved button-down shirt.

“Arms up,” I say when I bring it back in the bathroom. She does as I ask and I slip it over her head and down her lean arms. Then I help her to her feet again, pulling the shirt down over the towel. I breathe a sigh of relief when the last towel hits the floor and she’s cool, dry, and dressed—without me having seen a thing I wasn’t supposed to see. As long as she remembers that when she’s feeling better, I’m in good shape. Right now, she can barely keep her eyes open so I scoop her up and carry her to my bed, laying her down gently. She sighs contentedly when her head hits the pillow. I’m just leaning across the bed to pull the covers over her, when I feel a light touch on my arm. I look down into her heavy-lidded eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs in barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

She’s delirious with fever and there’s no telling what she’s talking about. That is, until she starts talking about it.

“I didn’t mean it. Whatever I did to make you hate me, I didn’t mean it,” she says, struggling to keep her eyes open.

I stare down at her for a long beat.

“I don’t hate you,” I say finally, more to myself than to her. “Close your eyes and see if you can sleep. It’s going to be okay. You’re going to feel a lot better soon,” I promise, and hope to God it’s true.

She nods and obediently closes her eyes, her breath slowing into a deep, regular rhythm almost immediately.

I glance at my alarm clock on the nightstand and realize that it’s been just a couple of hours since I found her out front, sleeping in her car. Well, this evening was just full of surprises, wasn’t it? I go downstairs and throw her clothing into the washing machine and do a quick clean up of the kitchen. I consider sleeping down on the couch, but I might not hear her if she calls for me, so I put up the fire screen, grab my ereader, and head back up. She seems to be resting comfortably, but I check her temperature by putting the back of my hand to her forehead. She’s definitely cooler.

In the closet, I find an extra pillow and blanket. I take them to the overstuffed armchair and ottoman that sit opposite the bed, making myself comfortable. I try to read some of my book, but I find I’m having trouble concentrating. I just keep going back to her words.

“Whatever I did to make you hate me, I didn’t mean it…”

Do I hate her? I mean really hate her? I think so. No, I thought so.

What I know for certain is that I’ve spent the last six years tormenting her at every opportunity. If that’s not hatred, then what is it?

I close my eyes before I can allow myself to make that final connection.

Casey is reaching out for me. She’s so beautiful, her dark hair flowing, fanning out the way Katherine’s was in the tub. Except Casey isn’t in a tub. Her hair is flowing, but she’s standing upright.

“Oh, baby, I’ve missed you so much,” I murmur.

She gives me her sweetest smile.

“Come back to me,” I plead. “We can make a go of it. I swear, this time will be different…”

She’s reaching out for me, her fingers lightly brushing against my face. I lean in to her touch, reveling in the feel of her skin against mine. That electric current that’s always connected us. I close my eyes. When I feel her pull her hand away, I open them again, just in time to see the twisted smile on her face as she slaps me.

I wake myself up gasping for breath and it takes a second for me to remember where I am and why I’m there. I’m sleeping in the chair because Katherine is in the bed. Katherine is in the bed because she’s very sick. With this realization, my gaze swings to where she is lying. I’m startled to find her watching me with wide, unblinking eyes. Something is very wrong. I’m on my feet and by her side in a heartbeat.

“Miss Brenner?”

“S-s-so c-c-cold…” is all she can get out.

I see it then, even through the covers. She’s trembling violently.

Dammit!