Page 52 of Man Flu

“Thanks,” he mutters while sliding back on his knees to push himself away from the toilet. I guess that position isn’t comfortable, since he immediately lies down on the tiled floor.

“I know how awful this feels,” I tell him. He looks up at me with puppy dog eyes, and I quickly assume he had his mother wrapped around his little finger with that look. “I’m sorry, Logan.” I run my fingers through his silky hair that somehow still looks perfect after a night’s sleep and vomiting. “Can I do anything?”

“Just sit here with me,” he says in a whisper.

I look down at my wet towel. “Okay, sure.” I sit down, leaning my back against the wall beside the toilet paper roll, and Logan scoots forward a couple of inches, placing his head on my lap.

I’m not sure why, but I’m looking around the bathroom, sort of wondering if anyone is watching this happen. While it wasn’t evident last night when he was making me moan louder than I’ve ever moaned, right now with his head on my lap, I’m realizing how little we know about each other.

With his back in view, I notice a tattoo—two lines of text written in what looks to be Greek.

“What’s this mean?” I ask, running my finger along the puckered skin.

Logan sucks in a short breath of air, and his hands tighten around my thighs. “It—” he swallows and pauses. “It means, ‘We cannot learn without pain.’ It’s about something I lost, and it’s a quote from Aristotle.”

“Wow, how philosophical of you,” I tell him, smiling a touch at the thought. I’ve had my assumptions about this man, but I may have had him all wrong. “So, what pain have you learned?” I know he was injured in baseball, but I think there’s more.

Logan curls his legs into his stomach, and I watch the waistband of his jeans dig into his stomach. That can’t feel good, but before I can suggest something else, he’s pressing against me, reaching for the toilet.

It smells like the devil’s feet in here, and I’m trying my hardest to breathe through my mouth rather than my nose.

“I think I’m dying,” Logan grumbles.

“It’s just the flu,” I remind him gently, while running my hand up and down his bare back, which is burning up. “Come on, let me help you to bed.”

I grab a face cloth and run it under the faucet before he stands up. “Here.” I dab it over his face and flush the toilet. “It’ll be okay.”

He’s staring up at me as if he just figured something out, but I can’t imagine what could be going through his head right now. “Cora is a lucky girl,” he utters.

I toss the washcloth into the sink and loop my arm under his. “Come on.” He uses the toilet as leverage to get up to his feet but leans a lot of his weight on me too. Logan is not a small man—lean, yes, but those muscles weigh a ton. I manage to get him to the bed and help him under the covers. “I’ll get you some water.”

Logan grabs my wrist with a weak grip. “Thank you, Hannah.” The bridge between superior and employee has been broken. We’ve taken a completely different path, and we’ll need to figure out how to navigate through this one, but I’m willing to go that way because something feels different right now. Something feels good, despite the situation at hand.

I slip into a pair of leggings and a baggy t-shirt and jog down the steps toward the kitchen, just as the doorbell rings. It’s way too early in the goddamn morning for company. Come on.

“Coming,” I shout to whoever is rude enough to ring the bell before nine on a holiday or weekend.

I open the door, finding Rick, Tiana, and Cora standing on the front step. What the hell? “What’s the matter?”

“I need you to take them,” Tiana says. “I—I have plans today, and I can’t deal with him when he’s sick. Plus, I can’t afford to get sick right now. I’ll come back for him tomorrow night. Okay?”

My mouth falls open. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on just a minute. You don’t really think this is how things are going to work, do you? He’s your problem now. You take care of him. I’ll keep my daughter, though.”

“No, no, no, I can’t.” She opens the screen door between us and shoves Rick inside.

“Titi, come on, babe. Why are you doing this?”

“Yeah, Titi, why are you doing this? Oh, that’s right, you’re not doing this,” I tell her.

The sudden movement makes Rick fall to his knees, and of course, vomit. Cora is shrieking, holding her nose, and jumping around, making a scene. By the time I return my attention to the doorway, I see that Tiana is gone.