He doesn’t answer. Instead, his eyes are opening and closing, so slowly like he doesn’t know whether I’m real or not. My hand goes up to his face, feeling the stubble there scratching against my palm. That gets his eyes fully open, and his lips part.
“I need to give you food,” I tell him, not noticing how hard his body is beneath me, or how warm he is. I’m a professional. I can’t help looking at his body, the way his shoulders fill out the entire width of the couch, the leg whose foot is on the ground somehow feels like it’s caging me in. Not the time, definitely not the time.
“If I eat, I’ll vomit.” Hunter’s voice is low and rumbly, like he’s just been sleeping instead of his body starving for nutrients, too weak to move.
I move to get off him, settling my ass on the side of his couch so that a part of a butt-cheek is touching his ribs. And some fine ribs they are.
Matty comes over to me, carrying the plastic teddy bear bottle of honey.
“I told you, I’m going to throw up if I eat anything.” The words are so weak and tired, I know I have to act fast.
“It’s this or an ambulance.” I squeeze an amount onto my finger, turn to him and instruct, “open wide.”
He can’t even do that, like his body’s just conserving enough energy to speak to me. My pulse ratchets up another notch, blood pounding loud in my ears. I poke my finger between his lips, getting the honey through and swiping it along the inside of his cheek. My body has stopped shaking so long as I have something to do.
“Just swallow when you have to, and don’t worry about anything else. Matty, look in my purse for my phone, please? Thanks, buddy.” I keep my voice calm, no use making the kid go into hysterics. I put more honey on my finger this time, swiping it on the inside of his other cheek. I even go back and swipe some of it into his gums, rubbing it in as much as I can. I keep doing this for five minutes, hoping I don’t spike his sugar back up too badly. All while Hunter watches me with his blue, blue eyes, and I start to see him in them, instead of his low blood sugar.
Hunter grabs my wrist, my finger about to dive into his mouth again. “No more.”
I frown at him. “You’re feeling a bit better?” I can’t tell if his color has gone back to normal since the lighting is so bloody awful, but his eyes are wide open and he’s focusing on me, also looking to be aware of his surroundings.
Hunter licks his lips and stares at me. “I thought you would have gone for the glucagon or something.”
I shake my head. I didn’t even think of the glucagon. “I knew this would work. Happened to my mom, once. I gave her honey like this ‘cause the pack had expired. She was okay after that.” I frown again. “Will you let me take your sugar again? I don’t want you moving unless you have to.”
Hunter’s eyes flare open, his eyebrows popping up high. “Again?”
“Yeah, I did it before. So I need to do it again.” I frown at him. “I’m going to need my hand to do that, Hunt.”
Hunter watches me as he moves my hand closer to his mouth, sucking on the finger that has honey on it, and bloody fucking hell! Something like need pulses in my lower belly, and I take in a sharp breath. My spine starts to tingle, and I’m pretty sure I have a mini-seizure after I feel the sweep of his tongue on my finger. My poor, poor Batman panties.
When he’s done, I can’t look at him. I end up grabbing his big paw in my lap, do the whole alcohol swab again lest he got honey on it that’ll skew his reading. His sugar’s back up to four point one. My whole body sags forward, my elbows digging into my thighs as they take my weight.
Matty’s little body pushes into my side, letting my knees lock and sliding my heels directly in front of me, I let him come around me to sit with his Dad. I get up, a little dizzy but ready to go home.
“Where are you going, Sera?” Matty asks my retreating back, and my shoulders come up close to my ears, like I’m expecting to get hit.
I turn, wondering what the right answer is. I settle for simple. “I’m going home. Your Dad’s fine now, kiddo.”
Matty shrugs off Hunter’s paw around his waist, and comes running towards me, panic twisting his features into something so stark and raw it hurts to look.
“What if it happens again?” His entire hand is wrapped around my pinky, pulling me back to the couch. I don’t want to hurt him, I don’t. I sigh heavy and long, but the message is lost on the kid. I can still feel him shaking through my hand, a vibration of fear that makes his entire body sing.
I look up to where Hunt’s now sitting up on his ass, back to the couch’s armrest, long legs out in front of him. Couldn’t squeeze my giant ass between his feet and the opposite armrest if I tried. Then again, I think Matty would have difficulties. His hood has completely fallen off his head, and he’s staring at me with no expression on his face. He’s gone back to being an asshole.