Page 81 of When Sky Breaks

What am I going to do? I have to take Foster to his appointment tomorrow, and as the flush creeps over my cheeks and a chill wracks my body, I realize I’m feverish. There’s also the haunted house I’m supposed to be working on and a million other things that need my attention. Not to mention the encounter I had with August. I grab my phone and sink back into my pillows.

“Honey, why are you calling me from your room? Wait, are you not home? Did you stay the night with someone?” Foster’s voice morphs from concern to amusement.

Did he already forget I told him about breaking things off with Johnny? “No, I’m in my room. I’m sick.”

A long pause. “Is that, uh, code for something?”

Huh? “Dad! It means I’m sick. What did you thin—oh heck no, I’m not pregnant. Why does everyone think when a woman is sick, she’s automatically pregnant?”

“Was that a serious question for me?”

I let out an exasperated chuckle. “No, it means I can’t come out of my room—I can’t get you sick. Do you have anyone you can call to take you to your appointment tomorrow? I’m so sorry. I just couldn’t handle it if something happened because of me.”

I hear his voice echoing from in the house. “No worries, baby girl, I got someone I can call.”

Relieved, I tap end call and try to get comfortable, covering my tired eyes with my forearm. My body aches, and dealing with this is the last thing I want to do. But I can deal with it. I’m a nurse, for goodness’ sake. This alone makes us the worst patients, but I’ll sleep it off, and everything will be fine.

What’s probably several hours later, a knock on my door rouses me. Bleary-eyed, I sit up and squeak out, my throat spasming from the pain. “Dad, don’t come in here!”

“It’s me.”

Frozen solid, I blink at my closed door. “August?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Foster called me.”

I hang my head, feeling a headache coming on. “Of course he did,” I grumble, swiping back the sweaty strands of hair sticking to my scalp. I’m going to have to change my sheets later. They’re soaked. “You can’t come in here. I don’t want to get you sick, either.”

“I know. I have a plan.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re going to my house if you think you can drive yourself over there, and you’re going to stay until you feel better. I’ll sleep here on the couch and take care of your dad.”

I must be delirious. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, Shortcake, I’m serious. Do you think you’re able to drive?”

I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this as I clear my throat, wincing as it hurts. “Yeah, you’re not that far, are you?”

“No, ten minutes tops.”

A few erratic beats of my heart later and he speaks again. It sounds clearer, so he must be right against the door. “I’m sorry for being stupid about the whole Johnny thing. I don’t have any excuses except I turn into a complete idiot around you. Will you please let me help take care of you?”

That brings out a small, pained chuckle from me, and I sag my achy shoulders. The idea of someone else taking the reins and me getting to just rest? Sounds amazing and not something I allow myself to do often. August knows this. “Fine. I accept your apology. And yes, I’ll go to your house.”

After I agree with this crazy plan, my stomach flutters with a million butterfly wings. I’m going to his house. His personal space.

He sounds relieved. “Good. I have a guest room, and you can have anything you want in the house. I left some medicine out and some stuff for you in the bathroom.”

Damn, he really thought this through.

“Why would you do this for me?”

There’s a heavy silence outside the door, and I wait, clutching at the hem of my T-shirt.

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