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“Of course,” she says, standing aside as we pass. “You just focus on getting better, sweetie.”

Marsha heads back into the bullpen as I lead Kipp toward the front door, keeping pace with his slow gait.

“Doing okay?” I ask.

He nods, but it’s a measured thing. “I think I’m sick, Teddy.”

“Yeah,” I say with a huff. “I think it’s likely.”

“I might get you sick.”

“If you do, you do.”

He groans as I get him settled in the car.

“There’s a bag by your feet if you need it,” I let him know.

He groans again, leaning his head back against the seat. “Let’s just…not talk about it.”

I dutifully keep my mouth shut as I get into the car and drive us home. Inside, I get Kipp set up on the couch, a blanket beneath him that he insisted on because I’m gross, Teddy, and another over top of him to keep him warm. I have him take some of the anti-nausea meds and drink some water, but when I pop the top on a Gatorade, he groans again.

“Teddy…”

“Do you need the bathroom?” I ask.

He curses. “Think so.”

I whisk him that way, and the moment we reach the doorway, Kipp falls to his knees and hugs the toilet. I rub his back, wincing as he heaves.

“Don’t look at me, Teddy. I’m hideous.”

“Never,” I assure him, brushing his damp hair off his forehead.

He makes a pitiful sound, trying to hide his face. “You’re never going to want me again after this.”

“Impossible, sweetheart.”

His huff is incredulous, and I hand him a wet cloth that he uses to wipe his face. After that, I give him some mouthwash, which he spits into the toilet.

“Want to know a secret that’s not really a secret?” I ask, running my thumb along his ear.

He meets my gaze hesitantly.

“I like taking care of you,” I say softly.

“But not like this,” he says, forehead creased.

“Even like this.”

He makes a sound of disbelief, and I know I can’t explain it to him without giving myself away. Without telling him how much I care for him. Without saying I want the privilege of looking after him for a very, very long time.

Instead, I help him to his feet and down the hall.

“Let’s try this again,” I say, giving him some more meds once he’s seated.

He downs the small amount, followed by some Gatorade this time. I get him settled between the blankets before sitting down beside him.

“What was with the cats?” I ask, hoping to distract him from how he’s feeling.