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“Well, you’re gonna be thrilled when you find out what I have for you,” he said, going over to the fridge and reaching inside for something before turning around to face me. My mouth dropped open at the sight of the plastic bottles in his hand.
“I have red, pink, or green,” he said, setting the bottles on the counter, “and if none of these flavors work, I can always go out to get a different one.”
“Red is great.” I reached for the Gatorade. “When did you get these?”
“I went down to the market after you fell back asleep,” he said, going back to the stove. “I was worried, and I wanted you to have what you needed if you were sick.”
I set down the bottle and walked toward him, stopping a foot away from him so that I didn’t breathe on him or spread any potential contagion to him. “You know, I think that you’re a huge softie, and I like it.”
He rolled his eyes a little as he looked over to the pot on the stove he was stirring, but I could see the shy pride on his face as he nodded.
“Thank you for taking care of me.”
He came back toward me, and without seeming to care that I could get him sick, he leaned down to kiss me. As crappy as I felt, the kiss still stole my breath away, and I couldn’t help reaching up and wrapping my arms around his neck, pressing myself along his whole body so that we were flush together.
When we broke apart, he leaned down and pressed his forehead to mine, holding me to him.
“What do you want to do?” he asked as he ran a finger down my back. “Do you want to read, or draw on the couch? Or do you want to go back to bed?”
“Would it be nuts if I said I wanted to go back to bed?”
“Not at all. Go ahead,” he said, leaning down to kiss me again. “I’ll be out here if you need me for anything, okay?”
“Okay.” I went back to the room and stumbled into bed, rolling over to breathe in the scent on his pillow. I drifted off to sleep as I thought of him and how good he’d been to me.
* * *
“I can’t believe you actually made me chicken noodle soup,” I said, taking another spoonful and sipping it slowly. It was piping hot and the perfect level of salty and sat perfectly well in my stomach.
“Well, I really made it for me. You just happen to be sick right now,” he said, winking at me as he took a spoonful of soup himself. I stuck my tongue out at him, and he chuckled, putting his arm around me as we sat on the couch together, having lunch.
“I thought you said it was ‘my soup.’”
I’d slept for a few more hours before Dillon had come to wake me up, telling me that he’d made lunch for me and that my soup was ready.
“You’re just a convenient excuse.” He picked up the bowl and drained the last dregs.
I snorted. “Well, fair enough. It is pretty good soup.” I drank the last of it and set it down on the coffee table. I rested my head on his shoulder, and he pulled my legs onto his lap and ran his hand along the length of my thigh.
“What do you think of me potentially calling my mom again? I know it’s kinda soon, but I’d just really like to hear her voice right now.”
He huffed out a breath and rolled his forehead onto my shoulder. “I know, I get it, but you just spoke to her a few days ago, Macy. It wouldn’t be ideal.”
“And you don’t think that you’re being a little paranoid? He hasn’t found me up here yet.”
“No, but he’s still hanging around town like a bad smell like he knows you haven’t gone far, and I’m not willing to take any risks with you.”
I sighed. “I know. I know you’re protective, and I’m not trying to be whiny or anything, but at this point, I just want to talk to her. This is the first time I’ve been sick since I’ve been here, and I just want to hear her voice.”
He reached over to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. “What if I drive you to the trailhead tomorrow with the burner so you can talk to her?”
I knew I wasn’t going to get any further with him than this, and honestly, I was pretty relieved I’d gotten this far. I did understand why he was asking me to be careful, as much as it sucked.
We passed a good amount of the rest of the afternoon together, with him working on his new contract and me doing my reading and sketching on the couch as he did it. After a few hours, he stood up, stretched, and called Bucky to him.
“Do you feel well enough to come on our walk?” he asked, looking down at me.
“Not really,” I said, smiling up at him. “I think I kinda want to stay here and chill.”
