I sped home because, despite the heat pouring from the vents, Gabby’s shivering had gotten worse. Her teeth chattered nonstop.

The dark house was a welcome sight when I pulled into the driveway.

“I hope you feel better,” Nicole said. “I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

Gabby only nodded as I parked by the porch. I immediately got out and walked around the front of the car as Nicole left. Gabby blinked slowly, miserably, as she watched me.

I opened the door and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Keeping a firm hold on her, I helped her from the car and across the porch. As soon as I had the door open, she slipped from my hold, stepped inside, and started to tug off the flannel. I followed closely, ready to help in whatever way I could.

“Clay, c-can you get my towel?” she asked, pausing outside the bathroom to drop the shirt on the carpet.

A shower? I nodded. It would help warm her faster. I quickly went to her room and grabbed the towel. The closing of the bathroom door made me pause. She’d barely been able to stand. Would she be able to shower on her own?

I brought the towel to the bathroom door then waited. Inside, I listened to the small, mewling noises she made. Each one broke my heart and tested the respect I had for her privacy and my need to care for her.

Unable to stand another second, I tapped on the door. Just let me in. Please.

“J-just a s-sec,” she said, her panic clear. “I’m not ready, y-yet.”

A second later, I heard her bump into something. Taking a breath, I cautiously opened the door.

She stood by the toilet. She’d managed to get her shirt, socks, and shoes off, but her pants were obviously giving her trouble.

“Hey!” An unnatural flush crept across her pale cheeks as she crossed her arms over her chest.

If I wasn’t so scared for her, I would have taken a moment to enjoy all the skin she’d bared. Instead, I tossed the towel on the toilet lid and moved past her without a glance. I turned on the shower so the water could heat up. Then with a burst of speed, I did what needed to be done. I moved back to her side, bent, and had her pants around her ankles before she could screech.

With my eyes averted, I remained by her legs to wait for her reaction and for her to step out of her jeans.

“Clay, g-get out!”

Her outraged demand just firmed my resolve to stay.

“Really, I c-can do the rest.”

I tapped her leg and motioned for her to step out of the pants. After a moment, she placed a hand on my shoulder and did as I asked.

“N-now out, Clay.”

I picked up the pants and stood, careful to keep my gaze glued to the wall tile, then shook my head.

“The h-hell you s-say!”

She almost made me smile. I set her pants on top of the towel then pulled back the curtain and held out a hand. While I waited, steam began to drift in the air, letting me know the water had warmed. When she took too long, I nodded toward the shower and tapped the tub with my boot. Couldn’t she see she’d be warmer in there?

“You’re s-staying until I’m in? So I don’t fall?”

I was staying because I couldn’t leave her. But I shrugged, willing to let her think what she wanted.

She sighed and, a second later, placed her cold hand in mine. Sure, she still wore her bra and underwear, but I highly doubted she’d appreciate my help with those.

As soon as she was in, I closed the curtain then hesitated. She wasn’t steady on her feet. Would she fall when she tried to remove the rest of her clothes? I waited, but she didn’t move an inch behind the curtain. And, I realized she wouldn’t until I was gone. With a worried sigh, I turned and left.

As soon as the door closed, I heard material hit the bathroom floor.

After listening to the water run for five minutes with very little additional sound, I let myself back in.

“Clay?”

She sounded worse. Weak. I grunted so she’d know it was me. Who else would it be if not me?

I grabbed the towel, held it out, and averted my eyes again. The curtain rustled, then a moment later the water turned off. She plucked the towel from my fingers but remained hidden behind the curtain. I stayed as I was, facing the door with my hand extended, ready to help.

After some more rustling, she grabbed my hand and stepped from the shower. I knew how badly she felt when she scooted past me, wrapped in only a towel, and shut herself in her room. I picked up the bathroom to give her time to dress, then waited outside her door.

A long pause and short breaths followed each rustle of movement. Her pain tormented me. Yet, I knew she wouldn’t welcome any further interference. The waiting became agony.

As soon as I heard her climb into bed and pull the covers up, I let myself in and turned off the lights.

In the dark, her teeth chattered loudly. I tossed her clothing on the floor, stripped out of my clothes, and tugged on a pair of shorts from the bottom drawer. She didn’t make any other sound, just the clacking of her teeth, as I pulled back the covers and slid in next to her.

“I really hope you’re wearing shorts or something,” she said with a slight slur.

Her concern over what I wore didn’t stop her from pressing her cold feet against my legs. She made a small noise, one of relief, and moved closer to me.

Seconds later, her breathing slowed. She slept. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her to my chest, holding her as I’d wanted to do for months. My heart broke that it was because she was sick.

Please let her be all right, I thought.

I didn’t sleep, just held her. Night faded to dawn, and dawn gave way to day. Still she slept without stirring. Each hour brought more helpless fear.

By mid-morning, Gabby finally stirred. My throat tightened at the feel of her feet moving under the covers. She groaned slightly and tilted her head back, shifting away from my chest. Her eyes were open but her gaze was bleary.

“I’m thirsty.” The dry rasp of her words supported her claim.

I eased her from my arms and hurried to the kitchen, glad Rachel wasn’t home yet. With a glass of water in hand, I returned to Gabby’s side and helped her drink. She drained the glass in long swallows then curled up once more. She was sleeping before I set the glass aside.

Sitting on the bed, I studied her. Her skin seemed to have more of its normal color back. And the circles under her eyes were less pronounced. I hoped that meant she was better. The worry and fear that I’d held all night eased up, but only a little. Her need for more sleep when she’d already slept more than twelve hours didn’t seem normal.

Taking her glass, I went to the kitchen to refill it just in case she woke again. I set it on her dresser and grabbed one of my books before settling on the bed beside her. She shifted in her sleep, moving close to me. I smoothed back her hair then forced myself to open the book and began to read. Though my eyes touched on the words, I read very little. How long should it take for her to get better? Should I reach out to Sam? I glanced at Gabby, knowing she wouldn’t like that.

I stayed close, trying to read, until she started moving in her sleep.

Hoping she’d wake hungry this time, I went to the kitchen to make a very late breakfast. Rachel still wasn’t home so I could move around freely. If she were home, though, maybe she’d know what was wrong with Gabby.

I’d just turned the bacon in the pan when I heard Gabby get out of bed. She didn’t leave her room, though. She just moved around a bit. Probably grabbing her books.

I hurried to finish cooking then made a plate for her.

Carrying her food and a glass of juice, I nudged the bedroom door open and found her sitting up in bed, studying. When she looked up, I lifted the plate and glass unsure if she wanted it.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile. “I’m starving.”

Starving was good. That meant she was better. Right?