“Jameson?” I said again, a little more forcefully this time, but still nothing. His eyes remained shut and his body was beginning to shake.
“We promised we wouldn’t let this happen… You promised…”
I had no idea what he was talking about. He was in some fever-dream state. But whatever he was caught up in, he was going to have to ride it out, because this thing had a strong hold on him.
I placed the cold compress on his forehead, and when that didn’t wake him either, I knew he was in for a rough night.
I tried again with the covers, and this time he gripped the material and pulled it up under his chin. Satisfied he was covered up, I was about to run to the living room and grab the blanket I’d been using when I heard, “Don’t leave.”
I stopped in my tracks, thinking the fever might’ve broken, but when I turned to face the bed, I noticed his eyes were shut. Jameson was still dreaming.
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, Simon.”
Simon? Just when I thought I was beginning to know him a little better, another mystery surfaced.
Who was Simon? And what did Jameson have to feel sorry for?
Chapter 19
Jameson
I HAD NO idea what day it was or how long I’d been in this bed. But as I opened my eyes and looked toward the window, I saw it was dark outside.
I stretched beneath the covers, and for the first time in a long time, nothing hurt. Thank God. Maybe the worst was over? I sure as shit hoped so.
I listened to hear whether or not Ryan was home, and when all that met me was silence, I threw the covers back and got to my feet. When the room didn’t spin, I smiled, because that was progress. I glanced down at the pajama bottoms I wore and wondered when I’d put them on. But before I could think too hard about that, my stomach started to rumble.
I headed to the closet to grab a shirt, and when I passed by the mirror, I did a double take. My hair was all over the place and my beard was in need of a desperate trim, but it was the red-rimmed eyes that caught my attention.
This flu had sure done a number on me, but now that I was feeling better, it was time to get my shit together and get some food in me. I tugged on my shirt and pulled open the door, and the delicious smell of something cooking filled the air.
“Well, hello, stranger.” Ryan sat up on the couch.
“Hey.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Better.” I moved into the living room. “So much better.”
“Good. That’s excellent. I’ve been so worried about you.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cause any problems. Especially so soon into this.”
“No, no,” he said as he got to his feet. “You didn’t. I promise. But you were out for…days.”
“Days?”
“Yeah, it’s Monday night.”
I looked at the clock. “Fucking hell.”
Ryan chuckled. “I know. That was a rough seventy-two hours.”
“You’re telling me.” I ran my hand through my hair and blew out a breath. “I think you had the worst of it, though. I hardly remember any of it.”
“That’s probably for the best. You were sick as a dog. Your fever was ridiculous. At one point I thought I was going to have to take you to the hospital, but then it broke. Today’s the first day you seemed to be sleeping peacefully. So I left you alone and just checked in on you occasionally.”
But today was Monday. He should’ve been at work. “You stayed home today?”
“Well, I wasn’t going to leave.”
I shook my head, hating that I’d not only disrupted where he lived but also his work. “You shouldn’t have done that. I would’ve been fine.”
“You don’t know that, and I was happy to. I had days owed to me, and I never would have forgiven myself if something happened to you.”
“You still shouldn’t have done it.”
“And you should just say thank you.”
He was right—I should be thankful that someone gave enough of a shit about me to care if I lived or died.
“Say it,” Ryan sang, and his jovial attitude was difficult to ignore.
My lips twitched. “Thank you, but you shouldn’t have—”
“Nope, don’t want to hear it. Now, what can I get for you?” Ryan smiled, and the warmth and brightness reminded me I was well and truly alive. My chest tightened and my heart thudded a little faster. I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve the kind of generosity he was showing me, but I was grateful for it. He was a good man, and I was lucky he’d been here.
“I’d sell my soul about now to know what you’re cooking for dinner.”
“Your soul, huh?”
“That’s the only thing that’s worth anything, and that’s not saying much.”
Ryan cocked his head to the side, and the smile vanished. “Why do you do that?”
“What?”
“Talk badly about yourself.”
“I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. Or you turn something good around to make it into something bad. Like you’re trying to push everyone away.”
Well, he sure had my number. But that didn’t change anything—it was safer to push people away than let them in, and that was the way I liked it. At least, it had been until Ryan came along and Olsen started making me question myself.
“I’m just not a people person, that’s all.”
Ryan narrowed his eyes, and I had a feeling he didn’t believe me, but then he said, “Shake ’n’ bake chicken.”
I blinked, the change of topic throwing off my still-hazy brain.
“That’s what I’m cooking.”
“Oh.” I took a deep breath and groaned. “It smells like heaven.”
“It’s nothing fancy, but the fact you can smell anything is a good sign.”
“You’re telling me.” I looked to the kitchen and then to the bathroom. “Do you think I have time for a quick shower?”
“You have time to take a long one. Seriously, there’s no rush. I’m sure a shower and clothes other than pajamas will go a long way to making you feel better.”
I headed toward my room but then stopped. “Am I wearing your pajamas?”
A delicious red flush crept up Ryan’s neck to his cheeks, answering the question that had been on my mind since I woke.
“I, uh, looked in your closet and drawers, and you didn’t seem to have any, and with the way you kept kicking the covers off, I thought it was for the best…”
“I don’t remember you putting them on me.”
His eyes locked with mine, and I thought it was a damn shame I was still recovering. I wanted to go over there and kiss the hell out of him.
“You were barely lucid over the last three days. I’m not surprised you don’t remember.”
“Me either. That’s a shame.”
Ryan’s eyes widened, then I turned to my room to hunt for some clothes of my own.
With my clothes in hand, I made my way into the bathroom, happy that Ryan seemed to have gone to his room for the moment. I turned on the faucet and stripped out of my clothes, stepped in under the spray, and let out a long, satisfied moan.