Page 17 of Totally Fanatic

Get better soon,is written in block letters, but it isn’t signed. I crack the lid, and the most delicious smell fills my nose. I really should leave it or dump it. God only knows who dropped it off, but my stomach growls in protest. I haven’t eaten in who knows how long and the pit in my gut only sinks deeper the longer I wait, so I grab a spoon and sit.

It’s probably from Ryan. He’s always cooking for the guys. Or Duckie. No, he’d use a duck note, not a cat one. Yep, probably Ryan.

It tastes even better than it smells, and after finishing it off completely, I pop a few Advil and climb back into bed, sleep finally coming easily.

***

I grab my coffee and climb through the window onto the fire escape. It’s early, but I’ve been asleep for the last fourteen hours and am finally starting to feel like me again, so what better way to give myself a little soul boost than to watch the sunrise over Savannah from the rooftop terrace. I lean on the bar top I bolted to the ledge. I have the best view. From here, I can see the old lighthouse and the tops of the yachts moored at the marina. The sky is peppered with clouds, their dark undersides contrasting with the brilliant golds and yellows of the rising sun behind them.

“Good to see you’re feeling better,” a voice calls from below. With the sun not yet risen high enough to illuminate the street well, all I can tell is they’re big.

“Thanks,” I reply, not wanting to be rude.

“I was going to drop this off at your door, but if you’re up and about, maybe you don’t need it.”

I squint to try to see them better. “Sorry, I can’t see you all that well down there.”

“Oh, no problem. I’ll come up.”

Then he disappears from view, and I hear the rattle of the fire escape ladder.He can’t be serious. Is it a guy from the team, and I’m just too tired to recognize his voice? He’s kind of Harry’s size, nope, actually he’s not, he’s bigger.

A flash of the Misery movie crosses my mind, and I look around me for something I can use as a weapon if this guy ends up being some kind of sunrise serial killer. It’s not like I can run inside, he’s on his way up using the only way down. I head overto the smoker and grab one of the long forks from my barbeque tool set.

“Wow, this is really cool,” the voice says, and I spin to find Lion standing on the terrace, wide eyes staring out at the sunrise.

“Oh, hey, umm, Lion, right?”

“Yeah. I know it’s not a name you hear every day. My parents had a thing for animal names. I’m Lion, my sister is Mouse, and I have a brother, Buck. But hey, you look great. Mrs. Crisp’s soup is amazing, right?”

“You brought the soup?”

“I thought it might help. Ryan told me you were sick, that’s why you weren’t at the game.”

“Did Ryan tell you where I live?”

“Nope. I ride past here on my way to work and saw you climbing out the window a while back. I just counted the floors up.”

“Oh. Umm, thanks,” I reply, scratching my head. Is this guy for real?

“You’re welcome. So, are you feeling better?”

“A little. I actually do think the soup helped.”

“Oh, good. I brought you more. Mrs. Crisp is my neighbor, Daffin isalwaysat her place, so when I was sick a few months ago, she brought this to me, and I was good as new in two days. With how much you want to be out on that baseball field, I wanted to help.”

I finally notice the bag in his hands. It’s a good thing he wasn’t a serial killer standing up here with a knife or chainsaw in his hands, I wouldn’t have even noticed. He really commands the space. Not just because he’s big. Though his extra-wide shoulders don’t exactly hurt. It’s his eyes and smile that hold your attention. There is a childlike happiness that radiates fromhim, and it completely disarms any fear or nerves that had risen before I saw it was actually him.

“Is Daffin your… partner?”

“My cat, one of them. I have four. Daffin, Chip, Reynolds and King. Wow, this view is really amazing.”

“I was super excited when I saw the space up here, it was the perfect place for my smoker.”

Lion turns away from the view to take in the whole space.

“You cook, too?” he asks, moving over to the lounge area and placing the bag on the coffee table.

“I barbeque,” I reply, suddenly releasing that I’m still holding the fork. I place it away with the other tools and sit on the corner seat of the lounge.

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