Page 65 of My Best Bet

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After arriving back in Hamilton after the tournament, I was feeling a little under the weather, but nothing I couldn’t handle. But three days later, all three of us were the sickest we’d ever been in our lives, and none of us had experience in how to take care of ourselves.

Checking my phone for the time, I realized I slept the entire day away and missed about ten calls from Mer.

Redialing her, she answered on the first ring. “Colt! Oh my God, why weren’t you answering? Are you okay?”

“I’m sick,” I croaked out.

“What kind of sick?” I could hear the worry in her voice.

“I don’t know if I'll ever be warm again. I don’t feel so good, baby. I feel like I'm dying,” I groaned.

“Colt, don’t say that.”

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“Is anyone there to help you?”

“No, Kappy and JP are also sick. We’re all dying.”

“Colt, stop, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m gonna sleep, okay?”

“Okay, yeah, get some sleep. Make sure you get some soup, okay?”

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When I woke up hours later, she was there. Her hair was still in two braids that ended in a low bun and she was dressed in yoga pants and a thin zip up, like she’d just finished practice. She came closer, offering me soup.

“Am I hallucinating?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.

“No.” She laughed and patted my chest. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I see an angel.”

“Oh my God.” She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. “Eat your soup and go back to sleep,” she ordered.

“Yes ma’am.”

I slept on and off for the next couple hours.

She fished Tylenol out of her bag for me at one point, and then I watched her pop something in her mouth too before chasing it with water.

“What’d you take?” I slurred out.

She whirled around, clearly surprised to see I was awake. “Huh?”

“You took something.”

“It’s fine, go back to sleep,” she said in a tight voice.

I wanted to argue, but my body was too weak, and I succumbed to sleep.

When I finally awoke, she was still there, sitting at the end of my bed watching a sitcom on my small TV, looking comfy in one of my hoodies, leggings, and fuzzy socks, sipping the raspberry hot chocolate that I bought specifically for her.

“Thank you, baby,” I said as sincerely as I could.

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