I couldn’t help but laugh, because I’d thought the same thing. “I know, but so far I feel fine. Hopefully I stay that way.”
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.”
“Hey—Ryan, is it?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“You should come down to the station when Clarke’s feeling better, meet everyone.”
“Actually, I’ve already been there. I was part of the ENN crew that came out to get some photos of your station.”
“Really? Didn’t Jameson show you around that day?”
“He did, yes. But we’d met before then.”
“Ah, gotcha. Well, you didn’t meet the rest of us, so maybe you’ll have to make a second trip.”
That was fine by me.
“Tell Clarke to give me a call when he can hold his head up again and we’ll work out when he can come back.”
“Will do. It was nice to meet—talk—to you.”
“You too, Ryan. Sounds like our guy’s in good hands over there.”
“He is.”
“I’ll see you around.”
“See you.” I ended the call and made my way into the kitchen to look for something Jameson could eat. Now that his work was squared away, he could relax and take the time he needed to get himself back to feeling better.
I opened the pantry and spotted several cans of soup, chicken noodle included. I put a pot on the stove and dumped the contents inside, then grabbed a travel mug from one of the cupboards and filled it with ice water.
As the soup cooked, I stirred it and remembered the first time I’d had to step up and be the caretaker. Jameson had mentioned I was good at looking after someone, and that wasn’t all that surprising.
During my teens, my younger brother, Eric, was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease. It was a relentless illness that sent him back and forth to the hospital for months with no answers, and watching him suffer and deteriorate had put an incredible strain on my family.
My parents had had to focus all their time and energy on making sure Eric got the best care possible, and I did everything in my power to make sure they were okay too. I’d helped around the house with the cooking and cleaning, and looked after my brother when they needed to take a couple of hours to sleep.
It’d given me a way to contribute. It’d made me feel useful, and that I could help in some way, even if it was small. It was a way to feel in control of what was going on around me, until my brother finally got the help he needed.
What my family went through forever changed me, but it also helped me realize the things I was good at. So it was no surprise that I ended up in a job where I organized and scheduled another’s every move. Just like it was no surprise that looking after Jameson was helping me feel that I had a handle on the situation, that I’d be able to get him through this and back to all his grumpy glory.
Satisfied the soup was on its way, I took the water and box of tissues we’d picked up at the pharmacy, and headed back into his room.
When Jameson moved in, he’d hung blackout curtains, telling me it was the only way to get good sleep during the day, and as I stepped inside his room now, I realized how right he was. He’d drawn the curtains shut and switched off all the lights, and I could barely see one foot in front of the other.
“Jameson?” I whispered, just in case he was sleeping.
“Still alive, unfortunately.”
I grinned then used my phone as a light as I carefully made my way around the bed.
“I called Olsen, and he said don’t come anywhere near them until you're better.”
“Fucker.”
I chuckled and put the box of tissues on the nightstand. “He seems nice.”
“Yeah, he’s okay.”
I jiggled the ice water and placed it next to the tissues. “I brought you some water. You need to keep hydrated. I’m also making you some soup, and then I’ll put in a grocery order. Is there anything you like to have when you’re not feeling well?”
“Peace and quiet?”
“Very funny.”
Jameson began another coughing fit, and when it passed, he groaned. “My head is fucking killing me.”
“I bet. Hopefully the meds kick in soon and you’ll be able to get some sleep.”
“Or you could just put me out of my misery. Use a pillow. I won’t fight.”
“Sorry, no can do.” I bent down and pressed my palm to his forehead. “I need someone to pay the rent.”
Jameson’s bleary eyes locked on mine. “That was cold, GQ.”
“Well, you’re not. That fever’s back. I’m going to get a cold compress and the thermometer.” I walked to the door. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Jameson grunted in response, and if he’d had the energy, I got the feeling he would’ve thrown a pillow at me. I passed by the kitchen and checked on the soup then headed to the bathroom to grab what I needed.
It took me all of five minutes, but by the time I got back, Jameson was out, and I wasn’t about to wake him.
I quietly placed the thermometer on the nightstand and tiptoed out of his room, leaving the door slightly ajar in case he needed something. Then I hung the compress over the side of the tub and went to turn off the stove.
Looked like chicken noodle soup for me tonight, and I’d get some more when I placed that grocery order. I glanced at the clock and noticed it was still relatively early for a Saturday night, so I decided to eat my dinner and grab a quick shower.
I headed into the bathroom but left the door open, knowing Jameson wasn’t getting up anytime soon. Once I was finished, I grabbed a blanket from the linen closet and settled into one of the loveseats, deciding that would be my post for the night.
Then I flipped on the TV and looked through the streaming services for something to watch.
Several Marvel movies later, I glanced at the clock to see it was closing in on one a.m. I yawned and moved to switch off the lamp on the side table, and that was when I heard a groan come from the bedroom.
My hand froze as I listened for any other movement or sound. I sat up, staring at Jameson’s room, and just when I’d decided he’d fallen back asleep, I heard it again.
When I slowly pushed his door open, the light from the living room cast a soft glow across the bed. Jameson had kicked the covers off himself, and the image that greeted me made me grip the door to stay upright.
In nothing more than a pair of briefs, Jameson was a feast for the eyes. But as my gaze traveled up his twitching body to his sweat-soaked hair, I quickly squashed that response and sprang into action.
It was clear he was in the grips of a fever as he tossed and turned on the mattress, and I ran for the bathroom to grab that cold compress and a towel. When I re-entered his room he was mumbling something, his eyes still shut, and I rushed over to his side and kneeled by the bed.
“Let me in there! I can get in there,” Jameson said as I reached for the sheet on the ground and pulled it up over him.
“Shh,” I whispered, trying to soothe him, but he was deep in it now. “Jameson?”
The second the material touched his skin, he kicked it off, his head thrashing on the pillow. My fingers brushed up against his arm, and that was enough to know he was burning up.