Page 111 of Fortunate Misfortune
Nope.
“Plus, you’re good with things like this. You know I can’t handle vomit,” Cade continues. “At all.When people around me puke, I puke!”
I fake a gag, and as always, Cade gags too.
Growing up with a dad on dialysis, vomiting was a regular occurrence in our household. Every other morning he would wake up sick, often after my mom had already gone to work. It was one of the times I felt closest to him.
“Does he have a fever?”
“No clue. When I tried to take his temperature, he almost bit my finger off.”
Men turn into the biggest babies the moment they feel under the weather. It must be some universal guy thing.
Placing the mask in his hands, I roll my eyes. “You don’t need a mask for food poisoning.”
Cade ruffles my hair and heads in the opposite direction toward his room. “I know you’ll take care of him, MalPal. Call me if you need me, but not if it’s a vomit-related need.”
I take a single steadying breath to collect myself as I push open Kenneth’s bedroom door. Scattered empty bottles of water cover the floor, and a mild smell of sickness lingers in the air.
“Kenneth,” I say, placing my hand on the unmoving lump on the bed.
He doesn’t give any indication that he hears me, so I sit beside him and pull the blanket down. Freckled cheeks are red and splotchy, with beads of sweat gathered along his brow and upper lip. Affirming my suspicions of a fever, he’s got on the thickest hoodie and sweatpants he could find to fight the chills. I mentally curse Cade for not calling me earlier.
“Baby, it’s me. Can you open your eyes?”
This time a single eye pops open. His icy glare thaws instantly when he recognizes me. “Eddie?” he croaks, trying to sit up. He rubs his eyes before giving me the pleasure of showing me both beautiful emeralds. “You shouldn’t be here. You’re going to get sick—”
“It’s just food poisoning, silly,” I interrupt. “And even if it was contagious, I still wouldn’t let you be sick all by yourself.”
He takes me in slowly, my big T-shirt, big sweatpants, and big hair. Pushing his fingers into the fluff, a small smile appears. “Where does all this hair come from? It just keeps going and going and going and going and…”
After the eighthgoing, I slap my hand over his mouth. “You’re delirious. I need to take your temperature.”
“No thanks. I’m positive I don’t have a fever.” He tries to sit up again, and I place a hand on his chest to gently push him back into the mountain of pillows.
“Stay still. Do you remember the last time you threw up or ran to the toilet?”
“Like three hours ago? I slept on the bathroom floor for most of the night. Remind me to never eat food from a sketchy food truck aga—”
I sneak the thermometer between his lips before he can finish his sentence. Defiantly, he pushes his tongue against it, but I don’t budge. Finally, he loosens his lips and lets it slide beneath his tongue.
After a moment, the thermometer beeps. “Like I thought, because I’m so smart.” Kenneth rolls his eyes at mybraggy tone. “You’ve got a fever, and those layers aren’t helping. Would you mind taking them off for me?”
Even food poisoning can’t keep Kenneth from being smug.
“I knew you couldn’t wait to see me naked.”
Without sitting up, thick fleece slips over his head with a quickwhoosh, while I pull down his sweatpants. Silly taco briefs are tight on his strong and toned thighs.
While he complains about how cold he is and that the food truck behind the gas station, which would have been my first red flag, will never know peace again, I slip out of the room to grab an electrolyte drink from the fridge. When I return, he’s sprawled on the bed like a starfish. I take the moment of calm to admire this sight. Even with his entire body damp and flushed, and his hair sticking up in all directions, Kenneth Gray is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
As if he can feel my eyes, he looks up and grins at the drink in my hands.
Or at me.
Who knows, but the butterflies in my belly are kicking up a storm.
I am a sappy mess for this man, and there’s nowhere I’d rather be.
