“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 sometimes, 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.
‘His fever has peaked,’ a man’s voice says. ‘If it doesn’t drop, we’ll need to put him under a cold shower.’
Something cool slides over my forehead, and it feels damn good, easing some of the pain. I try to open my eyes, but my lashes feel crusty and stuck.
The world lurches. I find myself sitting, and pills are pressed into my mouth, then a glass. Cold water spills down my throat, making me cough and hack.
Fever’s dropping, the woman’s voice says.
That’s good news, the man says, and I wonder who he is.
Both voices sound familiar, though, so I relax. Friends. Family. My body is heavy on the mattress, my head resting on a pillow.
I’m in a bed. My bed. I feel as if I’m sinking through the mattress, falling down deep, into darkness.
I think I see Mom. She’s whispering something to me, but I can’t make out the words. Her hand is on my head, stroking my hair, and God, I won’t wanna admit it to anyone, but I’ve missed her so much.
Yet before I can say anything to her—ask why she left, how she could do it—she’s gone once more, and the darkness thickens.
When I resurface, my mind is clearer. Slowly, details emerge. The dimness of my bedroom, the closet, photos of the football team on the walls. Was Mom really here?
No, just a dream. I lift my hand to rub my gummy eyes, and the effort leaves me breathless.
Fuck. What’s wrong with me? What happened? I can hardly remember how I ended up in bed.