Page 30 of One Little Chance
After he returned the dish to the sink, he came back to find me sitting up on the bed.
“Will you sit down beside me?” I asked with a sniffly voice.
“Of course, Rogers.” He plopped down beside me, and I nestled into his side. After all these years, I still fit in the nook of his neck just right.
“Wanna watch a movie?” he asked, reaching for the remote.
I nodded.
“Which one?” he asked.
I only murmured into his chest, too tired to think. My symptoms were declining, but now my body was demanding sleep.
Next thing I knew, Julia Roberts and Richard Gere were on the tiny TV screen on the dresser across from my bed. You couldn’t go wrong with Julia and Richard. Jordan ran his fingers through my hair until I was lulled asleep.
Later, the sun was setting outside my window. The movie was over. Jordan had one of my thrillers in his lap and his arm looped around me. I felt so wholly content.
It felt so good, so right to wake up beside Jordan Silk. To have his ankles crossed, all comfort and warmth, relaxing on my bed. My eyes began to pool with tears—to have something, even if for only a moment, that I’d thought I’d lost forever.
He noticed my waking movements and glanced over at me. “Hey there. Good nap?”
“The best,” I whispered. Still shivering.
“That’s good. I have the thermometer right here.” He snatched it off the end table on his side of the bed. “Let’s check your temp.”
He rested one hand lightly under my jaw as he used the other to swipe my forehead. His fingertips rough against my skin.Maybe it was my fever, but every touch felt magnified. “Seems your fever has dropped a lot. That’s good, but let’s still get you some medicine.”
After I took more medicine, I shuffled into the kitchen to find him warming a jar of Nonna’s Minestrone soup on the stove.
My thinking was still kind of fuzzy, and the rules were still kind of fuzzy, so I thought,Forget the rules. I walked over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my head on his chest under the kitchen light.
“My sick Sophie.” He ran his rough fingers through my hair, resting his hands against my shoulders. “You should be in bed.”
“I should be with you,” I whispered, my voice a scrape.
He wrapped me in close. “I’m right here.”
“Don’t leave, okay?” I said, my filter gone.
The clock on my nightstand blinkedtwo a.m.when I woke up. My head finally felt clearer. My skin was no longer sweaty and no shivers. My nose and throat had felt better hours ago. I felt revived.
Jordan was asleep over the covers, laying on his back, still in his soccer coach get-up of running shorts and a sweatshirt.
I was deciding if I should wake him up to send him home or let the man sleep after being my caretaker for hours when he turned and opened his eyes to me watching him. He gave a sleepy smile, another favorite of mine.
“You stayed,” I said, breaking the quietness of night.
“I did,” he said, his voice raw with emotion and sleep.
I sat up beside him, placing a hand against his cheek. “Jordan.” He closed his eyes, turning his face into my hand. “The past few years felt like holding my breath and being near you feels like I canfinallyexhale.”
He kissed the inside of my palm, as I said, “Thank you for taking care of me today.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I want to be here.” He wrapped his hand around my wrist and pulled me closer to him. He ran his thumb over my forehead. “You still feel cooler.”
“I think my fever dropped for good.” I sat on my folded knees, my body square against his.
He ran his hands down my arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
