An Ounce of Hope(91)

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

She couldn't help it, though. She cared for him, a whole lot, so worrying was part of the deal.

"Is that so?"

She nuzzled his neck, pretending she had not just said that aloud. Shit. A towel was swiftly wrapped around her and he placed her carefully on the circular love seat she had in her bedroom next to the large window he'd opened. She shook.

"Stay here while I change your bed, okay?"

"Sheets in th-the clos-set." 

"I know," he whispered, his lips near her cheek.

She wished he'd kiss her. She wished he'd just stay and hold her. She wished she could appreciate seeing him wet from the shower. Wait. Was he naked? She tried to open her eyes, but they wouldn't cooperate. Instead, she snuggled against the cushions of the love seat and pulled the towel closer, trying to keep warm.

Max rolled over and was greeted with a fist smacking hard into his cheek. "Ow. Jeez!" He cursed and grumbled, grimacing as he clutched his face. "Shit, Grace."

From her side of her bed, Grace blinked up at him in surprise, her eyes tired and her hair a fuzzy disaster.

"I just slept here to make sure you were all right," he explained. "No need to beat me up."

She blinked at him again, seemingly lost and trying to piece together the last thirty-six hours. Max watched her carefully as he sat up against the wrought-iron headboard. At least she'd regained a little more color than she had had the day before. If it hadn't been for all the shivering and shaking and grumbling nonsense, Max would have thought she was dead when he found her. Damn woman had given him a heart attack.

Grace rubbed a hand down her face and shifted heavily so she, too, was sitting up. "Oh. Oh dear. I feel like crap."

"You look it," Max commented honestly.

Grace snorted. "Thanks."

He shrugged. "Just keeping it real. If it's any consolation you look a damn sight better than you did."

Grace sighed, grimacing with each movement. "Was I run over by a truck?" She ran her hands through her hair but froze midway through. "Oh God, I was sick. I was sick a lot." Her face was instantly mortified. "Max, that's twice you've cleaned me up while I was spewing."

"Tell me about it," Max replied earnestly. "It's a good thing one of us has a strong stomach."

She looked like she was going to cry. Max couldn't have handled that again. Once was bad enough. It had damn near broke his heart when, in her fever-riddled haze, she'd asked for her mother.

"I'm so sorry."

"Oh, stop," Max said with a breath of amusement. "It's fine." He took a deep breath. "Although, I have to admit, I was severely disappointed that you weren't wearing that red underwear again when I stripped you."

Grace's eyes widened. "Stripped me?"

"Mmhm," Max hummed, stretching; he caught her stare on his bare chest. "For the shower."

"Shower?"

Max chuckled and nodded. "Together." He winked. "Shame you were too ill to remember."

"Amen," Grace sighed, looking decidedly disappointed.

"Well, there's always next time." Max grinned. "Do you still feel sick?"

At his words, a loud gurgle emitted from Grace's stomach.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Hungry?"

Grace looked around herself. "Water?"

Max gestured toward the side table next to her, where there sat a large glass of water, a bottle of Gatorade, and a couple of white tablets. "It's just Tylenol. The doctor wanted to give you a shot of something but I didn't know if you were allergic or whether it would fuck with your meds, and I didn't much fancy a trip to the ER, so we just gave you some ibuprofen and Tylenol to bring your temperature down."

Grace finished the whole glass frowning. "Doctor?"

Max smiled. Yeah, she'd been totally out of it. "I called Aunt Fern, who called the doctor. Just a forty-eight-hour thing. He said you'll be fine. Thank God." He yawned. "I don't think I could handle sleeping here again with all of your damn twitching and mumbling."




 

 

It'd been like sleeping inside a damn washing machine and Max was genuinely surprised he didn't have more bruises. Initially, he'd grabbed a couple of blankets and bunkered down on the love seat, giving Grace the space to flail and turn in her bed. But, after a while, she'd started to cry out in her sleep, muttering nonsense that kept him awake for more than an hour. Tired and cranky, he'd scrambled into bed with her just after midnight and soothed her until her fever broke. As she had been after her panic attack in the bar, she was calm only when he was next to her, touching her. A fact that made something feel warm deep in his belly.