Page 61 of Misconduct Zone

Chapter 31

Dylon

My panic level has hit Defcon 1. I never dreamed my solo fight would leave me solo. Lars missed dinner and isn’t answering his door or his phone. I’m not letting this rift between us get larger. The front desk is busy, and I pretend to be Lars and that I’ve misplaced my room key.

It works and I all but run to the elevator. This is a huge invasion of privacy, but Lars can only dump meafterhe hears my side.

His room’s dark, but from the hallway light, I can make out his outline on top of the bedding. That’s my first clue something’s wrong. Lars hates lying on hotel comforters because they don’t get washed. He usually folds them in the sheet so they don’t touch his skin.

“Lars,” I say quietly, but it sounds loud in the still room. I reach out to him, and his skin is sweaty and hot. “Lars,” I say louder, rolling him over.

He moans, his body’s limp and burning up. I rush to the bathroom to make a cold compress for him, but my hands are shaking. If only I had checked on him before we left, he wouldn’t be this bad.

I place the cool washcloth on this forehead and text Grayson.

Me: Lars needs a doctor! EMERGENCY!

Thirty seconds later, there’s a pounding on the door and Gray’s kneeling by the bed before I say a word. “How long has he had a fever?”

“I’m not sure. I thought he was avoiding me and that’s why he didn’t come with us to dinner,” I say, and Grayson swears.

He tries to wake Lars, but all we get are moans. There’s another knock, and our doctor enters wearing a mask. I’ll need to remember to put his number in my phone.

“Start the shower with cool water. We don’t want to shock his system, but we need to get his temperature down fast.” The three of us carry a semi-conscious Lars into the bathroom.

It takes a herculean effort to rouse him in the shower. He growls when the cold water hits him but doesn’t open his eyes.

I swear the water sizzles on his skin.

“Fuck,” I grumble. The water’s so cold, prickling shards of ice.

After drowning in Antarctica forever and a day later, the doc says we can get him out of the shower. He takes Lars’s temp, and it’s still 102 degrees.

“He’s going to need IV fluids, and we should determine if he has the flu or Covid or some other infection.”

Doc leaves to retrieve the necessary supplies, and Grayson holds Lars while I dry him off. By the time I rummage through Lars’s suitcase and find dry clothes for myself, Doc is back and a sleeping Lars has an IV. The doctor hands me a medical mask identical to Grayson’s and voices his concerns about Lars flying back with us tomorrow.

“I’m not leaving him here,” I argue.

Doc opens his mouth, but Grayson cuts in. “I’ll talk to Coach and Mr. Dimon to catch them up and your offer to stay with him.” He pins me with a stare, but at this point, I would rather quit my job than leave Lars.

They leave after the three of us watch him breathe forever and then some.

He becomes restless, and I climb into bed with him. Lars gravitates to me and buries his face in my side, inhaling deeply, then coughs rack his body. His fever turns the bed into a sauna, but I can’t stand the thought of moving away from him. My hand caresses the planes of his back, vigilantly tracking his breathing, soothing him.

Lars has been my rock, steadfast and strong since we met, and it’s unnerving to see him sick and weak. I slide down to rest on the pillow next to him. His nose works its way into my armpit and he sighs.

“Dyl,” he rasps, as if saying my full name takes too much effort.

“I’m here,” I murmur. “Go back to sleep.”

“Left me,” he whimpers. “Don’t go.” His large hand grips my waist, fingers digging in.

This man needs me, and I’m not letting him go. The very least I can do to repay him is not abandon him in a foreign country by himself, sick as a dog.

“You lied.” The sound grounds out so low and anguished my heart flops onto the bed to make amends.

I hurt him, and he still took it upon himself to avenge the hits I took in the game, all while suffering.

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