Page 70 of Relief Pitcher

“Go sit down.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” He attempted to salute but started coughing again.

When he went into the living room, I moved into the kitchen, placed the Dutch oven on the stove, and turned it on to simmer as Caleb had instructed. Then I set the oven to preheat for the bread he’d sent with me.

“You made soup?” Cooper called.

I clucked my tongue at the note of skepticism in his voice. “No. Caleb did, so it’ll actually taste good.”

“I can’t taste anything anyway, so yours probably would’ve been fine.”

I walked into the living room and took in the sight of Coop sprawled out like a lump on his recliner. His long legs hung over the edge of the footrest.

“That sucks for you because I’m sure it’ll be delicious. I’ll describe in detail how good it tastes.”

Cooper managed a halfhearted middle finger before he coughed again, then pressed his fingertips against his temple.

“Your head hurt?”

“No, I’m trying to telepathically tell you to show me your jock.”

“Still got a sense of humor with a nasty sinus infection. Impressive. Eat now, jock later.”

“Promise?”

“We’ll see.” I winked.

There was more color in his cheeks as he smiled, but then it shifted into a wince.

“Yeah, I’ve got an awful headache. The pounding behind my eyes and at the top of my head won’t quit.”

I pulled out my phone and shot Seth a quick text to ask him for the medication instructions again. He’d given me suggestions on what to get beyond the prescriptions I’d picked up.

Seth: There’s a really cool feature with medications called instructions. They’re even right there on the box and more in the box! Magic. Read them.

I sent back a middle finger emoji.

“All right. Let’s get you nice and drugged up.” Duh. Of course there were instructions on the box. Not wanting to screw up had me way too rattled.

I dug through the bag and placed the antibiotics and cough suppressant on the coffee table, then the nasal spray, throat spray, two boxes of tissues, headache medicine, and cough drops next to them.

“Did you rob a pharmacy?” Coop’s red, watery eyes looked fond as he stared at the medicinal bounty I’d brought him.

“I had some help. Seth’s prone to sinus infections and Danita told me about your prescription.” I ignored his stare as I read the instructions on each box and mentally calculated a schedule I would write down for him. Most of the pills suggested taking them on a full stomach.

“Will you be able to eat a little?” I winced at his rough coughing fit.

“Yeah. Thanks.” He smiled and melted further into the recliner.

I returned to the kitchen and filled the kettle with water, then grabbed the box of honey ginger tea I’d bought. Once the soup was back to optimal temperature and the bread was crispy how I liked it, I fixed Coop some food, brought it out, and set it on a TV tray. I avoided eye contact to not make it weird and went back in to grab some for myself.

I sat on the couch, turned on the TV, and switched it to the Hallmark channel before digging in. The soup was amazing, but of course it would be. Caleb was a whiz in the kitchen. The chicken was tender and seasoned perfectly, the vegetables were soft but not mushy, and the flavorful broth tasted like herbs instead of just liquid sodium. The thick-crust bread with a slab of butter was a perfect addition. Cooper ate a few bites of bread and half the soup, which I declared sufficient for his medication.

I carefully double-checked the instructions for each pill and dosed them out to him. I was probably being too fussy, but I wanted him to get better soon. Softball wasn’t the same without him. I needed my eye candy, and Rick wasn’t as good of a catcher.

Coop grabbed my wrist and gently squeezed when I refilled his water. “Thank you,” he said sincerely while holding eye contact.

My cheeks burned, and I nodded, then retreated to the kitchen to do dishes before I jumped on his lap and snuggled him until he fell asleep.

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