Page 87 of His Jersey

Leah: That would be his wicked stepmother. Ignore her. Take two ‘I don’t give a cookie about Aston,’ go back to sleep, and call me in the morning. If you need anything. I’m not far.

From beyond the hotel suite’s bedroom door, another door opens and closes. I call for Jack, but my voice is a rasp and my body aches all over. My eyes drift closed, and I want nothing more than to float away on a cloud.

A faint glow from the window stings my eyes as I wake up to the sound of running water. I have a vague recollection of this happening before, but even if I risked getting kicked out of the hotel or losing my job, I’m too weak to get up. Freezing, I pull the covers around me, curl up into a ball, and pass back out.

Sometime later, once more, I groggily surface back to consciousness when the door creaks open.

“Good morning, Ella. Are you up?” Jack whispers.

I groan.

“Ella?” He crosses the room and the bed shifts with his weight. He hovers over me. Eyes pinched with concern. “Are you okay?”

I answer with an agonizing shake of my head that makes me feel like I have a bowling ball instead of a brain. His rough hand presses against my forehead.

“You’re hot. I mean, you’rehot, but your cheeks are red and your temperature is scorching.”

“That’s not news I want to hear,” I mumble. Or maybe I say something about a bear. I’m not sure because all I want to do is hibernate until whatever this is passes.

“Stay here. I mean, don’t go anywhere. I know you won’t. But I’ll be right back.” The words come at me in pieces, but I get the gist as I burrow into the covers, unable to get warm.

I’m not sure how much time passes, but the room is dark. Acool compress rests on my forehead, a straw is lifted to my mouth, and then someone rubs my feet. I’m disoriented and can’t form complete thoughts, but I hear the low murmuring of voices, including Leah’s. Then I’m in the shower, dressed in dry clothes even though I’d prefer a parka right now—who knew Nebraska would be so cold and why doesn’t this classy hotel have heat?

Leah’s voice echoes, “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to call.”

Her brother adds, “Don’t worry, sis. She’s in good hands.”

Then I’m out again.

In fits and starts, I sleep and wake—the room is dim, but occasionally someone brings me water. Actually, it seems every thirty minutes like clockwork. Then, the figure returns to a chair near the bed. Finally, I wake up in a warm nest surrounded by woodland creatures singing. Blinking open my eyes, a hand gently smooths my hair and someone sings softly.

“Jack?”

“I’m here.”

I press my hand into his. “Thank you.”

“Are you feeling a little better?”

“Snuggle?”

The mattress shifts and he wraps his arms around me. I doze and when I wake up, I feel much better. I’m still a little achy, but that might be because I’ve been in bed for awhile.

I roll over and find Jack awake, blue eyes filled with relief.

“How long have I been out?”

“Two days.”

I brush my hand over my forehead. It’s cool and dry, thank goodness. “Gosh. I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head. “You were sick. Are you feeling better?”

“So much better.” I sit up and am instantly terrifiedthat I have the worst case of bedhead of my life. When I smooth my hand through my hair, it’s in a braid. “Did Leah?—?”

“She helped you shower, but I braided your hair.”

“You know how to braid?”

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