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“Hey Lex. How are you feeling?”
She swallows, grimacing with pain. “Better. I think.” The freckles that dot her nose and cheeks standout against her pale skin. I reach for the damp cloth that was on her forehead as it begins to slip.
“Here, take a drink,” I say, bringing the sports drink to her lips and carefully tipping it. She sips at it, being careful of her sore throat. “Someone is delivering meds soon. We’ll get you better in no time.”
Closing her eyes again, Lexi nods. “Can you call the bakery? I’m supposed to help Harrison again tomorrow. He’s going to think I’m faking. Who gets sick in the summer?”
I don’t like the sound of that. Why would he not believe her? Pushing that to the back of my mind for later, I switch my focus to my cell, which is blowing up with notifications. The app has been a blessing today, but all these messages are a little excessive. The delivery person has arrived, and I press the front door buzzer number to let them up. Relief courses through me at finally having something to help Lexi get over this. I promise her I’ll call the bakery after we get some meds in her. She gives me a weak smile, patting my hand.
She’s fallen back asleep by the time I answer the door and walk back. I hate waking her, knowing her body needs the rest, but she needs to take these pills more. I softly call her name while I prop her up against my forearm. Her lashes flutter but don’t open as I tell her what I need her to do. To give her credit she doesn’t complain, just opens her mouth and swallows the pills I toss in while taking tiny sips of water. With that done, I lay her down again and she’s out before her head hits the pillow.
Leaving the room, I turn back and I get one last look at her lying in my bed. She looks tiny all alone in the king-sized bed, but perfect at the same time. She looks right in my bed. Rubbing at my chest, I close the door and head to the kitchen.
Now that Lexi was taking care of and resting, I needed to make a few calls. Something that her Super said to me wasn’t sitting right. I had to make sure my girl was safe on every front.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Low-Key Murder
Lexi
My throat feels like the Sahara Desert. Opening and closing my mouth to try and rid it of the paste-like feeling, I squint my eyes open. I’m not confused by the light grey walls or the bright light that shines throughout the room, I remember Grant carrying me to his car and taking me to his place. What I am confused by is the orange cat that is staring at me from the edge of the bed. It’s looking at me with a haughty expression.
Is this a dream? Am I dreaming that Grant has a cat?
Ever so slowly, I push myself up on an elbow. My body protests and shakes a bit but I need to get up to use the bathroom. Though I’m not sure I will be able to get up if this cat doesn’t move.
“Hey buddy,” I croak out, moving a leg closer to him under the sheets. He doesn’t get the hint. I’m totally assuming it’s a male cat. There’s something about the way he’s eyeing me. “Mind moving for me?”
He doesn’t move. I take a deep breath, trying to figure out what to do next when a coughing fit takes me over. The bed shakes, my chest screams in discomfort at the hacking movement and the cat jumps away in fear. Through watery eyes I watch him dash out of the room. Well, at least that problem is solved. My coughing subsides enough that I can slide out of bed and hobble to the bathroom.
When I glace at myself in the mirror, I’m not surprised at what is reflected back at me. I look like a walking dead disaster. My shoulders move a millimeter, in a shrug of acceptance before I move on to take care of business. When I’m back at the sink washing my hands, a gentle knock comes through the door.
“Lexi? Are you okay? Need help?”
He came to check in on me. It’s a foreign feeling for me, having someone else looking after me when I’m sick, but I like it. There’s a tingle-like pressure in my chest at the notion. Or wait, is that another cough building up? Wiping my hands off, I open the door and give him the best grin I can muster.
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
Pushing a bit of hair back from my face, his hand lingers over my forehead. “You look better. And don’t feel as warm.” I turn my head so that his hand slips to the side and cradles my cheek. “Do you feel better?”
The warmth of his body near mine is definitely helping but I still close my eyes and take stock of how I’m feeling. “I do feel better. The queasiness is gone but my head feels heavy. And my throat really hurts.”
“That’s good baby, happy to hear it. Let’s get you back into bed and maybe get you a tea.”
Keeping me close, Grant wraps an arm around me and helps me back into bed. Propping pillows behind my back, he tucks me in before hurrying from the room. Before I’m even able to move the sheets around to where I want them, he’s back with a hot mug in his hand. The cat trails after him.
“Am I hallucinating that cat?” I ask him, needing to know.
Placing the mug on the table beside me, Grant sits on the edge of the bed with a chuckle.
“No, you’re not hallucinating the cat. My parents are here, and they brought Prince with them. I’m looking after him when they go away on vacation.”
Annnd the queasiness was back. I blink at him. Hoping I hadn’t heard what I thought I’d just heard. Grant just stares back at me, a relaxed look on his face, like he hadn’t just dropped a major bomb on me. I’m too weak to hit him with a pillow or shake him like I want to, so I do the next best thing.
“I’m going to murder you,” I say with as even a tone as I can muster right now. The words come out sounding half-mafia Godfather threatening and half-frog, but it does the trick. His eyes flare.
“What? Why?” The tone of his voice tells me he’s honestly confused.
