Page 52 of Hold the Line

His eyelids fluttered open into little slits. “Just for a while,” he croaked.

“Oh, Deacon. Are you sick?”

His brow furrowed. “Sugar.”

“That’s not an answer.” I rested the back of my hand on his forehead and nearly yanked it away at how hot he was. “You’re sick, honey. We need to get you inside. Can you stand if I help you?”

He grunted. “Resting.”

“You’ll rest so much better in bed.”

One eye cracked. “Bed sounds good. Gimme a second.”

With a lot of my help, we got him to his feet, but he was leaning on me hard. One arm around his waist, the other on his abdomen to keep him upright, I guided him into my apartment. When we reached my bed, he all but flopped onto the mattress.

“Don’t fall asleep. We need to get water in you—” My words cut off when his hand wrapped around the back of my thigh.

“Why’s my bed so soft?” He squeezed. “Like you, but you’re softer.”

Leaning down, I brushed his hair off his forehead. “We’re inmyapartment, Deke. You’re in my bed. I need to find a thermometer and medicine. You have to let me go for a minute, okay?”

His glazed eyes roamed erratically over my face. “Think I’m dreamin’. Have to be. Best goddamn dream I’ve ever had, sugar.”

Despite my worry, I couldn't stop from smiling. My heart was not hard enough to handle Deacon Slater, sick and adorable as he lay in my bed. I had to get away from him.

“I’ll be right back. We’re going to get you better.”

His brow pinched with panic. “Don’t go.” His hold on the back of my thigh tightened, but he was so weak I could have easily broken free. “Stay with me.”

I slid my fingers through his hair until the lines on his face eased. “I’m not going far. You need medicine to bring your fever down. You have to let me go. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Slowly, his fingers opened, and I stepped away. Only when I was out of my bedroom did I start to freak out. I wasn’t sure I had a thermometer. I wasn’t sure what to do to bring down his fever. I hadn’t been sick in ages. When I was younger, my mom—

My mom.

That was who I needed.

My mother arrived with supplies and confidence and went right to work helping me sit Deacon up to get medicine and fluids into him. His temperature was alarmingly high. She had me take his socks and shoes off, then run a tepid washcloth along his forehead and down his arms. Through it all, he was pliant, lethargically moving where we wanted. He barely seemed to notice my mother had joined us.

While I ran the washcloth over his skin, she called our family doctor. He didn’t make house calls on a normal basis, but for Elena Kelly, he made an exception.

Deacon grumbled a little more as the doctor poked and prodded him, but the moment I slipped my hand in his, he settled.

The good news was his lungs were clear. The bad news? He had the flu and the next few days would probably be rough. There was never a question of whether I’d be taking care of him. But how I would do that and run my business, I did not know.

The medicine kicked in, and Deacon finally fell into a deep sleep. My mom pulled me out of my bedroom and into the kitchen, a slight furrow between her brows as she looked at me with worry.

“Is there someone you could call to stay with him?”

I shook my head. Though that wasn’t true. I now knew a list of people who cared for Deacon, but I wasn’t going to call any of them.

“I’ll feel better being the one to take care of him,” I admitted.

“Of course you would.” She ran her hand from my crown down the length of my braid, tugging the end. “You haven’t mentioned him in a while. I was under the impression things between you had petered out.”

Despite the way he’d hurt me, I hadn’t had the heart to tell anyone Deacon and I had ended. Deep down, I still wanted to protect him. And maybe, even deeper, I held a small bit of hope he’d somehow make things right, and if I’d told my family what he’d done, they would have never been able to forgive him.

“They have, but I can’t leave him alone right now.”

---