Fighting to Breathe(12)

Oh, my God, he is such a fricking asshole! I’m sick, but it’s not like I have Ebola! I swear, if there weren’t people around, I would lay him out.

“Do you want me to come with you, honey?”

My mom’s softly spoken question cuts through some of the anger in me, and I shake my head before saying, “No, stay. I know you’ve been looking forward to this.”

“Are you sure?” She asks searching my face like I’m lying, which is almost comical because she is the one with months to live and yet here she is worried about me when all I probably have is a cold.

“Will you be okay here?” I ask ignoring her question.

“I’ll be fine don’t worry about me just get some sleep, I’ll get a ride home with Margret.”

“You’re sure.”

“Get my baby home safe.” She glares at Austin making me cringe.

“See you later.” I lean in then stop myself from kissing her cheek. Her immune system is weak already, and catching whatever I have would do her no good.

“See you in a bit.”

I pull my keys out of my pocket and elbow Austin in the ribs hard, causing him to inhale sharply. “Oh, sorry,” I say like I didn’t do it on purpose, but his eyes narrow, telling me he isn’t buying it. Whatever. I move past him to the front door, swing it open, and then step outside and down the three steps onto the driveway.

“My truck’s over here,” Austin says, grabbing my hand and startling me.

“I’m driving myself.” I frown, wondering what he’s up to. He’s been nice—well, except for making me leave the party. Then again, the more time that passes, the worse I feel. I probably would have realized I was sick if I hadn’t been so caught up in being next to Austin again.

“I’m not letting you drive, babe.” He shakes his head.

“Stop calling me babe.” I clench my fist. He didn’t call me that before, and I’m not sure how I feel about him calling me that now. It feels impersonal, yet every time the word leaves his mouth, my body reacts involuntary.

A smirk lifts the corner of his lips and his hand shoots out, wrapping around my wrist, stopping me from going to my car. “Little Lamb, please stop being difficult and let me take you home.”

My chest burns. The nickname he’d given me when we were dating was something I had forgotten about. I was his Little Lamb, and he was the Big Bad Wolf. People would joke about our last names often, but he would tell me it was fate. I tug free from his hold then jerk my head slightly, indicating I would follow him. I want to get this over with; I need to be away from him and alone.

Once we get to his truck, he opens the passenger side door, and waits until I’m inside and buckled to shut it and jog around the front. The air inside smells like him, making me want to either roll down the window, or hold my breath, trapping his scent inside my lungs.

“I’m gonna stop and get you some medication,” he says as the truck roars to life. I turn my head to look at him, wondering where the guy went who stood on the front porch mere days ago telling me he hated me. That Austin, I could handle; this guy here, being nice to me, is not something I’m ready for.

“I just need to take some Tylenol and sleep.” I put my head to the cool glass of the window and close my eyes, waking up when I feel the truck come to a stop. When I open my eyes I notice that were not at my house but at the store.

“I’ll be back.”

I lift my head and watch him run into the local grocery store, coming back out fifteen minutes later carrying two large bags.

“What did you buy?”

“Soup, orange juice, cold and flu medication, and I rented you a couple movies—Horrible Bosses and Dumb and Dumber 2. I figured you still like comedies.” Tears begin to fill my eyes, and I dig my nails into my palms to fight them back. Ken never took care of me when I was sick, and one thing I know for certain is had my life been different and I had stayed with Austin, he would have insisted.

“That wasn’t necessary.” I clear my throat when the words come out on a croak.

“It’s not a big deal.” He shrugs, putting the bags on the bench seat between us. As soon as we pull up in front of my mom’s house, I get out of the truck then find the keys in my pocket, opening the door to the house.

“Why don’t you go get your pajamas on and I’ll make you some soup.” He asks softly making that pain I was feeling earlier come back tenfold. I couldn’t do this with him. I couldn’t have a front row seat to what life would have been like if I stayed at home.

“No, thanks. I’m just going to get into bed.” I say wanting him to just leave already.