Page 54 of Hold the Line

Except I’d never had a dream this good. I lay on something so soft, it might’ve been a cloud, sugar all around me, warmth at my side, cocooned in a comfort I’d never experienced…

So how could I be dreaming it?

I cracked one eye open. A distant light broke through the shadows in the room, outlining the rounded woman who lay in the bed beside me. There was no mistaking her. That was when memories came to me in flashes.

Phoebe’s face, her hands on me, her supporting my body. Cold water, medicine, moving. Icy blue eyes peering at me, a stethoscope on my chest, bitter medicine in my mouth. Phoebe’s voice reassuring me, staying beside me when I basically begged her not to go.

I’d never felt as shitty as I did right now, but if I were given the choice to feel better in an instant, I wouldn’t have taken it if it meant leaving this bed. I knew I’d never get back here.

I must’ve made some sound because Phoebe shot up on her elbow, her hand going to my forehead.

“You’re burning up again.” Her face moved closer to mine. “Deacon?”

“Right here,” I forced out the words with a whole lot of effort. As good as it was to be beside Phoebe, I felt like I was moving and breathing in a thick layer of sludge laced with spikes. My entire body ached, and the simple act of speaking took more energy than I had.

“I’m going to help you sit up so you can take more medicine.” I must’ve groaned because her voice dropped, low and soothing. “I know, honey. I know you don’t feel good, but you’ll feel so much better after a little medicine and water.”

I couldn’t say I helped her much in getting me upright. My body was pretty much deadweight, but she managed. Her touch was gentle but firm, guiding me without a hint of hesitation. I watched her bustle around the room. The way her hair caught the light, the way her brow furrowed with worry…it didn’t make sense. None of this did. Why was she here? She had no good reason to be taking care of me. Hell, she had every reason to turn her back and leave me to fend for myself.

Then again, that wasn’t who she was. She was a much better person than anyone I knew. Of course, she’d take pity on me. But that didn’t explain how I’d ended up in her bed. I racked my fever-fogged brain, trying to piece together the fractured memories. Last thing I remembered was stumbling toward my door, the world tilting sideways. Everything after was a blur.

The mattress dipped as she perched on the edge of the bed, her hip pressing against my side. My arm fell across her lap, heavy and clumsy, fingers curling instinctively into the soft warmth of her stomach. She stilled, her breath catching for just a second before she relaxed, letting me hold on to her.

“Dreamin’,” I mumbled, my voice a rasp. “Know it.”

Her lips twitched, a faint smile breaking through her worried expression. “You think I’d be in your dreams?”

“Always are. This is the best one, though.”

She huffed as she dabbed a washcloth along my forehead. “You’re very sick, honey. I can’t imagine how this could be a good dream.”

I blinked open my eyes, looking up at her. She was haloed by the light behind her, golden and soft, her edges blurred. Or maybe that was just her.

“Angel girl.”

She shook her head. “It’s probably better if you don’t talk so much. You might end up saying things you’ll regret when you’re better.”

I slid my hand up her side. Here, in my dreams, I was allowed to touch her. “How do you feel so good? Can’t be real.”

“Deacon.” Her hand, cool and a little wet from the washcloth, landed on mine. “You need to rest.”

Rest. I was already sinking, my limbs heavy with fatigue. But I didn’t want to let go—didn’t want to leave this dream where she was mine to hold. I fought to keep my eyes open, to memorize her parted lips and the flush in her cheeks. So damn beautiful, my angel.

Sleep was stronger, though. It pulled me down, dragging me into darkness. Just before I went under, I felt it.

A whisper of warmth.

The ghost of her lips brushing against my knuckles.

Next time I woke, I was alone in bed, but I knew I wasn’t by myself. My eyes flew open in a panic. My head rolled sideways, finding the other side of the bed as empty as expected. Rolling my heavy head the other way, I nearly pissed myself at the woman sitting in a chair two feet away.

She calmly looked up from the book she’d been reading. “Phoebe went in to work for a few hours. She asked me to stay with you until she gets back.”

Unless my eyes were playing tricks on me, I was pretty sure this woman was Elena Kelly, Phoebe’s mom. This continued not to make sense, but the way I was feeling, that wasn’t a surprise. My brain wasn’t working at full steam. None of me was.

“She’s gone?” It wasn’t easy, but I pushed myself into a sitting position.

“I offered to make the muffins, but she declined. Not that I have any clue why.” Elena stood, leaving her book on her chair, and closed the small distance. Like her daughter, she pressed the back of her hand to my forehead. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t watching you sleep. I heard you stirring and rightly assumed you’d be waking up soon, so I came in here to wait. You’re still running hot. We need to get more medicine in you. Do you think you’d be up for taking a shower? You’re starting to get ripe.”

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