Page 26 of Wild Hearts

"Keep the door unlocked. I want to be able to get to you if anything happens."

Nodding, she shuffles into the bathroom after I give her a tee and a pair of sweatpants to wear.

Unsure of what to do while she showers, I search my drawers and cabinets for medicine. There’s a purple syrup that says it helps fevers, but everything else is for coughs and sniffling.

If only it was just a cold.

It would’ve saved Grace a hard time puking her guts out.

I look around trying to figure out what else would be useful. A glass of water. The medicine. They both go on the nightstand, then I change into pajama pants and sit at the edge of my bed, waiting for Grace to come out again.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

GRACE

I slowly undress before hobbling into Wes's shower. Uncontrollable chills attack my body—my teeth chattering nonstop—as I fiddle with the metal knobs. A blast of icy water smacks my face, and I jerk back and cough from the unwelcome assault.

Sleep is calling my name, but my hazy mind urges me to get clean first, so I reluctantly shift forward as the water warms. Washing is probably a good idea. I threw up earlier, and I keep sweating and shivering.

Sweating and shivering.

That’s kind of fun to say, I think, as it repeats over and over in a catchy jingle. Steam billows in the glass stall, fogging the tile and adding to the weird floating feeling settling in my bones.

Mmm… This was a genius idea.

I mentally pat my back then actually pat my back with a hand to my shoulder. Oh, wait. I'm supposed to wash while I'm here.

Squinting, I take stock of Wes's bath products. Only male things here. Now, I'll smell like a man.

I frown.

Then another brilliant thought pops free.

I’ll smell like Wes, my favorite man.

A giggle bubbles up at my sudden great fortune as I start with his shampoo and conditioner. Two in one. So easy for guys.

Sweating and shivering.

Sweating and shivering.

The jingle continues to play. It’d probably earn me big bucks if I sold it to a pharmaceutical company.

Imagining a bank account full of cash after selling the rights to my hit melody, I turn off the water and step out to grab a towel and dry off. The bathroom smells heavenly as Wes’s shirt slides down my torso. The hem hugs my wide hips as do the sweatpants, although the length drags on the floor under my heels.

"Are you feeling any better?" Wes stands to help me to his bed once I reenter the bedroom, and I use the opportunity to lean into his sturdy warmth, his broad body a pillar of strength and stability in my weakened state.

"Drink this. It should help." He pours some liquid in a tiny plastic cup and holds it out to me. My nose wrinkles at the smell, but I choke it down.

"Good girl," Wes praises as he gently urges me under the forest green comforter on his bed, and I beam at his approval.

Good girl.

Good girl.

I think I found my second hit jingle.

Unfortunately, the goldmine song withers away as soon as my head touches the pillow, my mind and body finally succumbing to exhaustion.

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