Dylan(77)
“He fell asleep and won’t wake up.”
“Jesus. Miles, are you at home? Is he there?”
“Yes! I… yes.”
“Okay.” I’m already running toward the exit of the gym. “I’m on my way.”
***
“Tessa! What the fuck’s wrong?” Rafe is following at my heels as I jog toward my jeep. “Hey!”
“Dylan.” I cross the avenue, weaving between cars, and I hear Rafe curse behind me.
“Dammit, Tessa, wait up!”
I reach my jeep, waste precious seconds searching for my key and finally locate it and unlock. I slip behind the wheel.
The passenger door opens, and Rafe folds his tall frame inside. He slams the door closed. “Now. About Dylan. What happened?”
“Don’t know. I think he’s been sick for a while. Wrote it off as stress.” I start the engine, and shoot out into the traffic. “He’s been dizzy, and I think he had a fever this morning.”
“This morning.” He sends me a curious glance. “You two got together?”
I don’t know. I have no idea. So I focus on driving as fast as I can.
“Who called you?” Rafe is still watching me. It’s as if he can see right through me.
“Miles. Dylan’s brother.”
“And?”
“He said Dylan can’t get up.” The knot in my throat is like the stone blocks that make the pyramids.
“From where?”
“I don’t know.” I hit the wheel with my palm. “I didn’t ask. I was in a hurry to leave.”
“Give me your cell.”
Wordlessly, I pass it to him. It looks tiny in his big hand. He scrolls to find my last received call and hits connect. He identifies himself and asks questions to which I’m dying to know the answers—where Dylan is, how he is, if he responds when talked to, when touched—and I keep driving.
“Was that Miles?” I ask as soon as he puts the cell down. “What did he tell you?”
“Not much,” Rafe mutters. “Poor kid’s is terrified.”
“How’s Dylan?”
“He’ll be okay. Just get us there.”
Now I want to hit Rafe, but crashing the car might not be a good idea right now. “Should we call an ambulance? Talk to me.”
“Told you, kid’s terrified. He could only tell me Dylan can’t get up from the sofa and that we have to help him. Says he’s talking to himself.”
“Shit.” I turn into Dylan’s street and park in front of his house in a screech of tires. I kill the engine, and I’m out of the car and hurrying toward the house in a heartbeat, Rafe’s footsteps following me.
The house door opens, and Miles throws himself at me. I hold him, feeling how his body shakes, as Rafe pushes the door open all the way and walks inside. Tugging Miles along, I enter.
Dylan is sprawled on the sofa, on his side, and Rafe sits down next to him. He puts a hand on Dylan’s shoulder and shakes him. “Dylan. Wake up. Come on, buddy.”
I spot Teo sitting on the carpet, staring at us with wide eyes. “Miles. Go sit with your brother.”
“You’ll help Dylan?” He looks up, his eyes red.
I hug him. “Yes. He’ll be fine. Go sit with Teo.”
He nods and sinks on the carpet next to Teo, as I walk over to the sofa. It’s like walking through water, my limbs heavy. It’s as if time has slowed down.
“He’s burning up,” Rafe says as I reach their side and sit on the arm of the sofa.
I can see it. Dylan’s face is flushed. His forehead is blistering hot to the touch, slick with perspiration. He’s muttering words under his breath, but I can’t make them out.
“Dyl. Can you hear me?” I take his hand and squeeze it. “Dylan.”
His eyes move behind his lids but don’t open. He makes a small noise, and his fingers curl around mine. “Tess?” His voice is scratchy, but I’ve never been happier to hear it.
“Yeah, it’s me.” I swallow hard, a knot in my throat. “Hang on in there. You’ll be okay.”
Dylan says nothing, but his fingers squeeze my hand.
“Could be just a bug,” Rafe says. “The flu.”
“We should take him to a doctor,” I say quietly. “This could be serious.”
“You sound like you know something.”
“Could be Lyme disease. What his brother had. They’ll have to run tests. If it’s that, he’ll need quite a lot of antibiotics. Teo’s still taking them.”
“Damn.” Rafe groans and dry-washes his face. Then he gets up, pulls out his cell and makes a call. He paces while waiting for whoever he called to answer, his long legs eating up the small space.