Page 18 of Dare To Live

Seeing him again is painful. Confronted by his face and his voice, I’m rocked by the admission that I’ve never been able to get over him. Being with him had been the sweetest of agony. An addiction that left me hollow when I chose to walk away.

Chapter 10

Eli

The tantalizing aroma of chicken soup wakes me moments before a hand touches my arm.

“Eli?” Her voice is low, barely more than a whisper.

I contemplate ignoring her. Maybe she’s a hallucination. Maybe she’s really a bear and I’m imagining that it looks like Arabella. The image of a bear superimposes that of how I remember her looking when I opened the door, and I chuckle at the visual of it wearing the wooly hat, thick coat, and gloves.

“What’s funny?” A cool hand touches my forehead. “You’re burning up. Eat this and then let’s get you to bed.”

I snort. “First time you’ve …” I stop to cough … “...been eager to get me into bed …” More coughing. “... in a long time.” The dig doesn’t have quite the same impact broken up by all the coughing.

She ignores me. “Can you sit up?”

I force myself to open my eyes just so I can glare at her. “Just fuck off out of here.”

Instead of doing as I demand, she slides a hand beneath my shoulders and hauls me upright. The change in position sends me into yet another coughing fit. When I finally catch my breath, she hands me a glass of water. I don’t take it.

“What have you put in it?”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“At least tell me it’ll give me a quick death.”

Her eyeroll is exaggerated and combined with a headshake. “I can’t believe how dramatic you’re being. Drink the water, then eat the soup.” She picks up a bowl from the coffee table.

“What’s that?”

“Chicken soup.”

“I’m vegetarian.” My voice is flat.

“What? Since when?”

I fall heavily back against the couch, and let my eyes close, without answering her. The silence following my statement is deafening. I sing the lyrics to ‘Ghost’ by Badflower in my head. I finish the first verse and then something hits me in the stomach.

“You’re such a fucking asshole. I should have known you’d be worse if you were sick. I should leave and just let you rot!”

I wave a hand toward the door. “You know where the exit is.”

“Fuck you, Eli. Eat the fucking soup.”

I ignore her, and after a while I hear her moving around. I wait for the front door to open, but it doesn’t. Instead, there’s the sounds of glasses clinking or maybe silverware hitting china.

I open my eyes. The living room is empty. A couch cushion is on my lap—probably what she threw at me when she saw all the meat-based meals in the freezer. The bowl of soup is on the coffee table, with a glass of water beside it. My stomach rumbles, reminding me it’s been a while since I last ate.

With careful movements, I ease back upright and turn so my feet are on the floor. Reaching for the bowl, I settle it on my lap and lift the spoon to my mouth. One mouthful turns into two, and before I know it, I’ve emptied the bowl and drained the water.

I push to my feet so I can take the empty bowl and glass into the kitchen. She’s sitting at the breakfast bar with a cup of tea and flicking through a magazine. Her eyes lift to find mine as I move past her to the sink. Rinsing the bowl, I pull open the dishwasher and place it inside, then straighten and face her.

“Get your coat on. I’ll take you back to town.”

Her spine stiffens. “I’m not leaving. One bowl of soup doesn’t magically make you better.”

“I don’t fucking want you here.”

---