Yes, he had to be serious.
Zane and Nate went up the stairs and locked the basement door. I lay on my side, curled into a ball, and cried. It hurt my throat. I desperately wanted water. I took in a slow breath and thought about my family. I was sitting at the dining room table again. My mom handed me a steaming cup of lemon tea. It was her cure-all for colds.
I would have given anything to be home again. Though I tried not to cry, the tears began to fall again. I shivered and hugged my legs closer to me. My body ached. I wasn’t sure I would make it two days.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I DRIFTED IN and out of consciousness, unsure of how much time passed since I had been locked in the closet. Again.
Sweat dripped down my back, and I shivered. I felt like my head was in a vice that was continuously being tightened. It hurt to swallow, and my entire body was plagued with chills and aches.
I thought I heard something clatter to the floor on the first level. I opened my eyes and squinted at the hole in the door from the missing doorknob. I coughed and closed my eyes. The heat from my fever was horrible. I brought my knees to my chest. Was someone there? My mind was too hazy to get the words out and call for help. Besides, it was probably Nate or Zane anyway.
Consciousness left me again. Sharp metal clicks roused me. I tried to roll over and look at the door, but failed. I lifted my head up for a brief moment only to have it heavily fall onto the hard floor.
Then the door opened.
“Oh God,” a deep voice spoke.
I tried to open my eyes. Something fluttered inside of me. I knew that voice.
“Shit,” he whispered and bent down, his knees cracking. “Addie?” He pressed his hand against my cheek. “You’re burning up.”
My eyes fluttered open. “Jacks…” I mumbled, not able to say his whole name.
“Don’t talk,” Jackson said quietly. “How long have you been down here?”
I opened my eyes again. I was dreaming. I had to be dreaming. Or maybe I was dead.
Jackson shook his head and pushed his dark hair behind his ears. “It doesn’t matter.” His arms slid underneath me and he picked me up, pressing my body against his. He didn’t speak as he carried me up the basement stairs.
I struggled to stay awake as he crossed the kitchen. Is this really happening? My head jolted against his shoulder when he hurried up a second flight of stairs.
“Am I dead?” I croaked.
Jackson opened a bedroom door. “No, you’re not,” he said gently.
“What is…you…you…” I tried to make sense of the situation.
“Don’t worry about anything right now, Addie. You’re really sick.”
“Okay,” I breathed.
Jackson carefully lay me down on a bed. He pulled back the covers, tucked me in, and said he’d be right back. I was too out of it to wonder where I was. My heavy eyelids remained closed until I heard Jackson come back into the room.#p#分页标题#e#
He sat next to me and hooked his arm around my shoulders. “Here,” he said and pulled me up. He put a cup to my mouth, carefully tipping it. Warm liquid touched my lips. I opened my mouth just enough to sip the drink. “It tastes gross,” he warned just a second too late. I coughed and recoiled.
“Mhh,” I moaned and shook my head.
“It will help,” he said quietly and tipped the cup again.
I let the beverage spill into my mouth. It burned on the way down. Jackson switched to water, taking his time to let me drink as much as I could. Then he gently lowered me back onto the pillows and pulled the blanket up to my chin. The mattress sank down near my feet. I tried once more to open my eyes and get a good look at Jackson. I was pulled into a black sleep in just seconds.
The shaking of a pill bottle woke me up. The room was dark, illuminated only by a small lamp on the dresser across from me. I opened my eyes and took a breath.
“Addie?” Jackson said and stood. He had been sitting on the floor, leaning against the dresser. He was holding a book in one hand and a bottle of Tylenol in the other.
I blinked the sleep away and traced my eyes over his face. The breath caught in my throat, and tears stung my dry eyes. I shook my head in disbelief. “You’re alive,” I whispered.
Jackson gave me a small smile. “Yeah. I am.”
“But they shot you.”
He pushed up the sleeve on his right arm. “They did. I can’t decide if Zane’s aim is really horrible or if he meant to just clip me all along.” I took in the nasty scar on his bicep. I opened my mouth, only to close it again. “Don’t worry about me right now. I’m worried about you.” He set the book on the dresser and moved to the edge of the bed. “Do you think you can swallow pills? We need to bring your fever down.”