Page 14 of Fight for Forever

God, these are questions normal people don’t have to ask themselves. This is a decision I should be able to make without second guessing every step. Joey is my friend. I can help him.

My shift at the restaurant doesn’t start till five, so I have plenty of time. My heart is pounding as I grab my purse and jacket. What’s the worst that can happen? He tells me he is fine and to go. That will be mortifying. Joey won’t do that, I’m sure. He’s not going to yell at me.

Steeling myself, pressing a hand to my stomach to calm the nervous flutters, I head out of my apartment to do something nice for the man who is giving me back my confidence.

The soup is still warm as I clutch it to my chest and wait for Joey to answer the door. Like an idiot, I stood outside the apartment building for a good ten minutes psyching myself up. Trying to come up with excuses to leave. He’s probably asleep. He might have been lying and have a woman in there.

That one really made my stomach turn. The embarrassment of showing up with soup for him only to find he’s with a woman. In all the time we’ve spent together, he’s never mentioned a girlfriend and there are no signs of a woman being in his life, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.

Or he hasn’t picked someone up.

That is a foreign concept for me. Dating, hooking up. Michael was my boyfriend for five years. Before that I wasn’t exactly shy and had my share of boyfriends, but never anything serious.

God, why am I just standing here worrying about something that might not be true? Creating scenarios in my head has been the way I’ve lived my life for a long time. Second guessing everything, being scared to decide for myself. Fear of reprisal.

“Nothing bad will happen,” I whisper.

“Meg?”

I yelp at the voice from the intercom and almost drop the soup. I can’t see Joey but there is a camera, so he just witnessed my mini freak out.

“Everything okay?” he asks, his voice croaky.

“I…” My throat closes.

I want to slap myself. Instead, I hold up the deli bag and force a bright smile. That, I’m good at. Over the years, I could have won an Oscar for the performances I put on, making people believe I wasn’t living my life in hell.

“I brought soup… Because you’re sick. I can go if it’s not a good time.”

“No, no. Don’t leave. Soup, huh?”

I shrug, like it’s lame.

“Come on up, but please don’t judge the state of me and this place.”

My smile becomes more genuine. “I would never,” I tell him.

The door buzzes and I head inside. Joey usually waits by his front door when the elevator arrives. His is the only apartment on the floor, so there is no danger of people walking in. The front door is ajar for me, but he’s not there.

I peer around it and then push it wider. The scent of tea tree oil and VapoRub overpowers my nostrils. Joey is sitting on the couch in sweatpants and nothing else. His chest is shiny with perspiration, only it’s not from working out.

There is a blanket and pillow beside him, which he has folded and stacked up while waiting for me to get here. He has tissues, vitamins and other pill bottles on the coffee table and an atomizer blowing out the tea tree oil. Apart from that, the apartment is pristine as normal.

Joey looks up at me with tired eyes. The tip of his nose is red, and his skin pale. A little under the weather, my ass.

He seems surprised by my stern look.

“Joey Ferguson, you are more than a little sick. Now get yourself back under those blankets. Have you had any liquids today? Do you have a thermometer?”

I bustle into the kitchen space and set the soup down. He hasn’t moved.

“Joey?”

Despite the pallor of his skin and the tightness in his eyes, he’s amused. But I will not be deterred. I cross my arms until he shakes out the blanket and lays back down, watching me as I glare at him.

Then I set about getting everything I need to take care of him.

Chapter Seven

---