Rolling over, I have to quickly turn right back so I don’t cough in Sam’s face.

“Morning,” he grumbles, sliding his hand down my back. “Still not feeling well?”

“I’ve felt better.”

“You sound terrible.” He sits up, blinking a few times. “I heard you coughing all night. You’re sick, babe.”

“Ugh, I know. I wanted to walk in the woods after breakfast.”

“It’s sunny but chilly,” he tells me, looking out the window. “I don’t think hiking would be a good idea.”

“Maybe after a nap,” I say, eyes fluttering shut. “I found some cough medicine with codeine in the cabinet downstairs and now I feel all sleepy.”

Sam makes a face, trying hard not to lecture me about taking prescription meds that aren’t mine. “Please tell me you took the appropriate dose.”

“I doubled it,” I say with a wink. “Yes, five milliliters along with two Advils and one spoonful of honey.” I wrap the blankets around my shoulders, feeling chilled. “You can go have breakfast with your brothers,” I say, getting sleepier by the second. “I’ll stay here and sleep. I know you don’t get to see them very often.”

“I’ll stay with you.”

“I don’t want to get you sick.”

“You didn’t feel well when you got off the plane, right?” he asks.

“Right.”

“Then you were already sick and contagious. We’ve had sex every day that you’ve been here and slept in the same bed. If I was going to get sick, there’s a good chance I’m infected already. But so far, I feel fine.”

“I hope you…you don’t get sick.”

“Go back to sleep, babe.” He kisses my forehead. “You feel like you have a fever. Do you know if your dad has a thermometer anywhere?”

“Yeah. Um. I think it’s in the same cabinet with all the medicine in the kitchen. Oh, and…and…” I force my eyes open. “You left your phone downstairs. Your ex, Stacey, called.”

Sam tenses. “Did you answer?”

“No, I just sent the call to voicemail. Does she still want you?” I slit my eyes open. “Do I need to fight a bitch?” I smile because I’m joking, though I do feel slightly possessive of my Sam.

Sam swallows hard and looks at the wall behind me. “No…no…I’ll, uh, I’ll talk to her.” His eyes close for a couple of seconds and then he meets my eyes and smiles. The gesture seems forced, and if I wasn’t drugged up, I’d think it was much weirder than I do right now. “And I think I will have breakfast with my brothers. Want me to bring you anything to eat?”

“Yeah, just whatever your mom makes. I’m still hoping for biscuits and gravy.”

He leans over and gives me a quick kiss. “I’ll see what I can do.”

16

Sam

My nerves are shot. Fucking shot.

Stacey called, and Chloe saw. Nothing stopped her from answering. It wouldn’t be wrong or weird if she answered my phone, told Stacey to hang on a minute, and came up to get me. This is the second time I’ve cut it this fucking close, and it should be the second time the universe got up in my face and told me to just fucking tell Chloe the truth.

She needs to know.

There’s no way around it. I have to tell her. Come right out with it. Let her know that she’s the only one for me. Always has been, always will be, and I don’t want things to change between us. Things will change, I know that, but Chloe will always have my heart.

But what the fuck do I say? My ex-girlfriend showed up the other day and told me the strangest thing—fuck, no. I can’t say that. I have something to tell you. Nope. That’s as bad as “we need to talk,” though we do need to talk. I quietly step out of the upstairs bathroom and walk down the hall, pausing at the bedroom door. Chloe is back asleep, snoring softly due to her stuffy nose. She’s sick yet looks peaceful as she lies there sleeping, and I hate myself already for bringing down her happy world.

“Just fucking tell her,” I order myself. That’s all I can do. Let her know this wasn’t planned—at fucking all—and she’s the one I want to be with, though I know things are going to get messy. But isn’t life messy? Hasn’t our friendship been messy? Yet here we are, finally together despite it all.

It will work out. It has to.

Sighing, I go downstairs and add water to the coffee pot. The sun is shining bright above me, shining in through the window and illuminating the little specks of dust that hang in the air. My phone is still on the counter where I left it last night, and I can’t help but think about how different things could have been if Chloe had answered.

Why is Stacey calling me this early anyway? She knows I’m not in Chicago. Something could be wrong, and I need to call her back as soon as I leave the house. The coffee starts brewing as I look for the thermometer, finding it in the cabinet Chloe said it would be in. I go back upstairs to check on her as the smell of coffee fills the air.

“Chloe?” I say softly, not wanting to wake her up, but also not wanting to startle her. She hasn’t moved since I left the room only minutes ago. Moving slowly so I don’t wake her, I cross the room and sink down on the edge of the bed and gently push her hair back. Her skin is hot, and I don’t have to check the numbers on the thermometer to know she has a fever.

“Babe,” I say gently and pull the top blanket off of her shoulders and put the thermometer against her forehead.

“Sam,” she groans, smiling slightly as her eyes flutter open. “What are you—oh.”

The thermometer beeps, little digital screen glowing red. “Fuck,” I mutter. “You gotta unwrap from all those blankets.”

“I’m cold.”

I set the thermometer down and lay in bed next to her, slipping my arms around her, using my body heat to keep her warm. “You have a really high fever, and I need to see if it goes down if you unwrap.”

“How high?” Her voice is a little hoarse.

“Hundred and three point four. For an adult, that’s high. Sometimes being all bundled up can cause a false high reading,” I say, which I’m hoping for.

“Okay. But I’m cold,” she repeats.

“You don’t have to totally uncover, but you shouldn’t be this bundled.” I sit up and roll the comforter down, leaving the top sheet and a soft blanket over her. She has the chills and starts shaking right away. “I think you might have the flu, babe.”

“No, it’s just a cold.”

“You went from feeling not-so-hot to really sick fast, plus you have a high fever. That sounds like the flu to me, but what do I know, right?”

Chloe blinks her eyes open. “My five minutes of Google searching my symptoms trumps your years of med school. And I have a cold. Or that fast six-hour flu.”

“I don’t think that’s an actual thing.”

“Google says I’m right. So I’m right, you know.”

“Oh, trust, me. Enough patients have challenged me on it. I know.”