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“But you saw no rash on him. No red bull’s-eye rash on any part of his body?”
“No, I…” I glance at Dylan, but he doesn’t seem to hear our conversation, his eyes closed. Shudders shake his tall frame. “Haven’t seen one.”
The doctor frowns. “Not so important. In a great number of cases, there is no characteristic rash. Has he spent time outdoors?”
“The garden. His brother probably got it like that, and Dylan was always with him.”
“Okay. Well, only one way to know for sure. We need to do some lab tests to identify antibodies to the bacteria. If the tests come back positive, we must check the organs to make sure they haven’t suffered, then administer antibiotics as soon as possible.”
Dylan whispers something, and I strain to hear, but I can’t. The doctor leans closer, then she straightens and smiles at him.
“Yes, these tests are expensive, but they’re deemed ‘medically reasonable’ and as such are covered by Medicaid,” she says kindly, “if you were worried.”
The doctor gives Dylan his sweater back, and I get up to help him dress. His teeth are chattering, and he’s clumsy with the fever. He doesn’t fight me when I lift his arms to pull on the sleeves.
“Need help, Tessa?” Rafe calls, and I shake my head as I tug on the hem of his sweater and straighten it.
Dylan glances up at me, and that same determination fills his blue eyes, like it had in the car. His mouth quirks in a faint smile. “Tess.”
I kiss his cheek, feeling the heat coming off him in waves, and sit beside him.
“I’ll just need to draw some blood for the tests,” the doctor says and returns with a syringe and a fresh needle still in its package.
“And then I can go home?” Dylan asks faintly. “My brothers...”
The doctor’s smile turns sweet, and her eyes crinkle at the corners. “Yes, then you can go back to your brothers, but if your fever doesn’t drop, then you’ll have to go to the hospital.”
Dylan nods and lets her swab the inside of his elbow, draw enough blood to fill a small vial and slap a Band-Aid on the tiny wound.
“We’ll get you started on antibiotics right away,” the doctor says. “The sooner you start the better. Meanwhile, we’ll have the results from the first test and know more.”
She writes a prescription, rips it off her pad, then looks at Dylan and me sitting on the examination table. After a moment of hesitation, she gives the prescription to Rafe. “Make sure he doesn’t miss any. If it is Lyme disease, it’s very important that we beat it before it does any damage. The rest of the drugs is to bring the fever down.”
Rafe takes the piece of paper, nodding gravely, and I help Dylan stand. He’s weaving on his feet, but even when Rafe comes up to his other side and steadies him, he won’t let go of me.
Together we help him out and into the car. We pass by a pharmacy to get the medicine, and then finally head back home.
Home. I’ve never thought of my apartment like that. Not even my parents’ penthouse in Chicago ever felt that way. But Dylan’s small house in the overgrown yard with his cute little brothers… Yeah, it definitely feels like home to me.
Chapter Fifteen
Dylan
There’s a blurriness to the world. I’m aware I’m lying on my side, but I don’t know where. I see walls, but then the dimensions twist. The colors bleed into each other. Faces approach me so
metimes, mouths opening and closing, producing sounds, but I don’t understand. People, faces, events—it’s all mixed up. Time jumps. I dream and wake up and dream again.
I’m cold. So cold I think I’ll shiver my teeth out. My head hurts like it’s about to explode. My eyes burn like fire. It’s impossible to get comfortable on the bed when I’m freezing to death, but I can’t muster the energy to move, let alone go look for more blankets.
I think I see children’s faces, familiar ones, and a feeling of urgency grips me. I should be doing something. What?
My brothers. Miles and Teo. Who’s taking care of them? I need to make sure they’re okay. I try to sit up but can’t quite make it. Hands push me back.
‘Ssh,’ a woman’s voice says. ‘Everything’s okay. Rest.’
“Miles,” I manage through my chattering teeth. “Teo.”
‘They’re okay,’ the woman insists, and I let myself go for a while, lost in jagged shards of images and sounds, dreams or reality.
