“Of course we did.” Mrs. Harris comes into the room, and Mason sets a vase of yellow roses on the bedside table. “I was so worried when Sam called and said you were admitted.” She looks around the room. “Where is he?”

“He went to get something to eat,” I tell her. “He should be back soon.” I hope so at least. I don’t like pity, and while it was really nice that Mrs. Harris and Mason came by to visit, I feel awkward sitting here.

“How are you feeling?” Mrs. Harris asks.

“Worn out. I’m ready to go home now. I don’t like hospitals.”

“I don’t either,” Mason agrees. “I’ve left AMA the last two times I was supposed to be admitted.”

“What does AMA mean?” Mrs. Harris asks.

“Against medical advice,” Sam tells her, coming back into the room. I smile as soon as I see him, so fucking grateful to have a guy as good as Sam in my life. “And that’s what I’d expect from someone who tried to use potato flakes to stop bleeding.”

“What?” I ask, not sure I heard Sam right.

“He read an article online that said potato flakes will stop bleeding,” Sam explains.

“So you like smashed them into a wound?” My brows go up. “That’s disgusting.”

Mason shrugs. “It worked. How long do you think you’ll be here?”

“Hopefully just over night. We need to get back to Chicago,” I reply, trying not to get stressed. I took the weekend off from writing but can’t afford any more time away. And Sam has to get back to work and I know he doesn’t want to leave me, though I wouldn’t be alone.

I already had to talk my dad into staying at Wendy’s sister’s instead of rushing back here. I’m not dying, and my plan is to leave in the morning and go back to Chicago with Sam anyway. But even if Sam has to go back without me, Mrs. Harris will make sure I’m taken care of.

“We’ll see how your labs are in the morning,” Sam says, going around his mother and brother to look at the monitors next to the bed.

“How annoying is it to have him here with you?” Mason asks, and Mrs. Harris gives him a pointed look.

“He’s been wonderful,” I say with a yawn. “Very attentive. I’m lucky I have him.”

“I’m the lucky one,” Sam says, blue eyes meeting mine.

“Gross,” Mason huffs. “At least I’m in the right place for when I get sick and throw up.”

“Oh hush,” Mrs. Harris tells him, swatting his arm with the back of her hand. “I think it’s sweet and them together—”

“Makes you happy,” both Sam and Mason say at the same time.

I start coughing again, and the jolting makes my headache come back. I’m due for more pain medicine. I think? Maybe? I lost all sense of time and only know it’s getting later by the diminishing sunlight. I don’t even remember when we came in. Eleven maybe? Sam has been by my side this whole time, and he might have badgered the ER doctor just a bit for not doing something he insisted I needed. More tests maybe? Everything is still fuzzy in my mind up until recently.

I remember the moment before I passed out, and am starting to remember flashes of people running into the room. I think I remember Sam standing next to my bed, his handsome face twisted with fear and worry, but I can’t be sure I didn’t dream it. Regardless, he’s been my rock through these scary last few hours, keeping me calm when the doctor told me how serious the reaction was and how much worse it could have been if I hadn’t received such a fast intervention.

I’ve had a handful of boyfriends in the past. Some I hoped things would get serious with, not because I was in love with them, but because I wanted to love them. It was naive of me to think if I stayed with someone long enough, those feelings would develop over time. I write romance. I of all people should know that’s now how a healthy relationship is born.

Though, no matter how long I was with someone, the feelings wouldn’t have developed because I already had those feelings for Sam. And if the shitty last few hours have proved anything, it’s just how good we are together.

“Do you need anything before we go?” Mrs. Harris asks. “You look exhausted, honey.”

“I am. Thanks for coming to check on me. And for the flowers. They’re really pretty.”

“You’re family,” she says with a warm smile, and out of the corner of my eye I notice Sam looking all tense again. He looks way, hand going to the back of his neck. He does that when he’s stressed, I’ve noticed, and I don’t quite get why he seems stressed anytime someone brings up me being part of the family.

“I’m leaving tonight,” Mason says. “I’m assuming I’ll see you at Thanksgiving? Well, if I’m able to get away from my next assignment long enough to come back.”

I flick my eyes to Sam, feeling a little awkward all of a sudden. It’s a given we’re spending the holidays together, right? Mrs. Harris brought it up yesterday.

“I think so.”

“Good. I’ll bring more whiskey,” he says with a grin. Mrs. Harris gives me a hug goodbye and I let my eyes fall shut as soon as they’re gone. I get a whole thirty seconds of sleep before a nursing assistant comes in to see if I need more water, which I do.

“You can go home and go to sleep,” I tell Sam when the aide leaves to bring me another Styrofoam cup of water. “You look tired, and I know it’s not exactly fun sitting here.”

“I don’t want to leave you.” His eyes meet mine and my heart swells in my chest. And then I immediately start coughing.

“Ugh, why am I feeing worse?”

“I’ll find your nurse. The medicine you were given when you first got admitted is starting to wear off.” He comes over and touches my forehead. “I’m worried your fever is going to come back.”

“It’s freezing in here. I don’t think it will.”

“You know it doesn’t work that way,” he says with a smile, knowing I’m poking at him. “And it is a little cold in here. If you’re not feverish, I’ll get you another blanket too.”

“Thank you. You really have taken good care of me today.”

“I love you, Chloe.” His brows pinch together, and he looks conflicted, which is even more confusing than him getting all freaked out whenever us having a family is mentioned.

“I love you, too,” I say. “And only one of us can be sick at a time, and if you don’t get any sleep, you’ll be next. Like you said, you’re already exposed.”

“Stop being logical,” he says back with a lopsided grin. “I’ll stay until visiting hours are over, unless you want me to stay the night with you. Do you want me to bring you anything from the house?”

“New pajamas, my phone charger, and my plotting notebook.”

“Really?” Sam hikes up his eyebrows. “You want to work?”

“I’m a workaholic, I know.”

“You really need to rest so you can get better.”

“I know. I’m worried I won’t be able to sleep and not having anything to keep myself occupied with makes me anxious.”