Page 10 of When It Snows

“Never had a woman make up a fever to get me undressed before.”

“You can give me the lame pick-up lines after your fever has broken.” She wrestles with the buttons of my shirt. I allow her since the room is spinning.

“When did we get on the tilt-a-whirl? I don’t enjoy carnival rides. My sister. Do you know Sophia? She’s five years younger.”

She murmurs words I can’t understand. I take her words as a yes.

“She loves carnival rides. She’ll ride the rollercoaster at Mermaid Mystical Gardens over and over again. Never mind it’s a kiddie rollercoaster.”

My world tilts and I realize I’m staring at the ceiling. “This log cabin is nice. I can understand why Hermit Jeremy never went anywhere. Why go out when you live in this place?”

Scarlett places a wet towel on my forehead and I sigh. “Feels nice.”

“Do you think you can swallow a pill?”

“Sorry, darling. You must have me confused with someone else. I’m not the swallowing kind.”

She tugs on my hand until I’m sitting up.

“Why am I sitting? I was enjoying the tilt-a-whirl.”

“I thought you didn’t like the tilt-a-whirl.”

“It’s better when someone places a wet towel on your forehead. I didn’t know the tilt-a-whirl did that.”

She giggles. “This should help break the fever.” She waves a pill in front of my face.

I scowl. “The waving is giving me a headache. How is this helping?”

“You need to take this pill. Open up.”

I open my mouth and she pops the pill in. She places a glass of water against my lips. “Tilt your head back. Now swallow.”

I groan. “That hurt. Why did you make me swallow a razor? I thought we were becoming friends.”

“We are, Weston. We are. Now why don’t you take a nap?”

“I’m not much of a napper but sleep sounds good.”

She helps me to lay down and places a blanket on top of me. And then, to my surprise, she kisses my cheek. “Feel better, Weston.”

I cuddle into the blanket. “Already do with you watching over me.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Chapter 5

I can't get out of bed on days when the temperature is less than my age.

Scarlett

Weston groans in his sleep. I glance over and notice he’s grimacing. I set my laptop on the floor and go to check on him. His forehead isn’t as hot as it was but he’s still warm and feverish. His cheeks are flushed, and his brow is sweaty.

I place a wet washcloth over his forehead. He sighs in relief.

“You take good care of me,” he mumbles.

“Shush. Go back to sleep.”

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