I heard Harris call for the medic on staff. Then Abigail said, “That lucky girl is going to lose so much weight.”
I wished I had the strength to strangle her.
Dante carried me up to my room, and he pushed the door open with his foot. He stopped when he stepped inside. “How can you walk in here? Your floor is covered in clothes.”
I started shivering. “They form a protective covering,” I said, my teeth chattering together.
He eased me into my bed, pulling my covers over me. He brushed hair off of my damp forehead. “I admit, when I’ve imagined carrying you to bed it never ended with me leaving you there alone.”
Only he would be hitting on me while I was dying. “You have got to be kidding.”
He smiled a too-big smile, and I couldn’t get warm enough. I just kept shivering under my covers. The medic came in to examine me, and said it seemed as if I had the flu. She said to give me lots of fluids and to keep me comfortable, and to get her if my symptoms worsened.
I must have fallen asleep, because I woke up having to retch again. I tried to get out of my bed, and there were arms lifting me up and carrying me into the bathroom. I got to the toilet just in time, and threw up bile. It was like I was trying to exorcise a demon from my mouth.
When I finished, I closed the toilet and leaned my head against the lid. The nice, cool, wonderful lid. I heard Dante’s voice. “Is there anything I can get you?”
“My spleen back? I’m pretty sure it ended up in the toilet.”
“You make it hard to be frustrated with you when you’re sick like this.” He picked me up again and carried me back to my room.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “I look terrible.”
“You do look terrible,” he agreed. But he sounded like that time I told him he couldn’t tell me I looked pretty, and he said I looked awful instead. “Truly horrible.”
“You’re not supposed to agree with me when I say I look bad. You’re the worst nurse ever,” I told him as he put me back in my bed.
“I’ve never taken care of a sick person before.”
“I can tell.” I sighed when he put the covers back over me. He crouched down next to the bed and caressed the side of my face. “When you’re up for it, there’s some water on your nightstand. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Why are you doing this? Why are you in here?” My voice sounded croaky.
“I want to be with you,” he said simply.
“Even when I’m sicker than a white-mouthed mule?”
“Even then.”
I reached out to take his hand. “I’m glad you’re here. I don’t want you to leave.” It wasn’t until after the words came out of my mouth that I realized what I’d said. His grin didn’t help things.
I pulled my hand back. “I’m obviously delirious. Anything I say can’t be held against me.”
“Whatever you say, Limone.”
I wanted to argue with him more, but I fell asleep instead.
Chapter 17
Flirting with you? I think politeness has become so rare that people mistake it for flirting. I just happen to be very, very good at being polite.
I woke up and stretched. I felt a hundred percent better. It was like I hadn’t even been sick. I reached for one of the water bottles Dante had left on my nightstand. Yesterday, every time I so much as looked at water, I would throw it up. I took a tentative sip and waited.
It stayed put.
I heard a masculine snoring sound. I sat up. Dante was sleeping in Genesis’s bed. He looked sweet. And hot. And cute.
And very alone with me.
I held my blanket up to my chest, which was ridiculous because I had my pajamas on and he was passed out.
Then a worse thought occurred to me. Had he and Genesis stayed there together? I put a hand to my forehead, ordering myself to not freak out. If he and Genesis had . . . done stuff . . . it was none of my business. It was gross and made me want to smack people, but it was still none of my business.
“Good morning.”
Ack! My heart slammed into my chest. “Don’t scare me like that.”
“You wouldn’t have been surprised if you weren’t busy ogling me.”