Page 2 of Fighting Fate
A groan tore through Baylor’s mind as Chipper bent and buckled him into the passenger seat of a car. Even in his fading state, the car smelled expensive. The world became less and less in focus.
“What in the hell is wrong with me?” Baylor didn’t get to hear if Chipper answered. The world went black.
Was Chipper stalking Baylor? Yes. Had he ramped up his efforts in the last four-ish months? Also, yes. Was he embarrassed by his antics? That would be a yes too. Did he intend to stop? Probably not. The guy drove him insane. Chipper could have anyone in the world. He could pick up his phone right then, call absolutely anyone no matter their sex, and have them in his bed by the end of the night. Anyone. That wasn’t conceit. It was reality.
The thing about all that bullshit was no one wanted him for him. Everyone wanted the world champion. They didn’t care to know him for real. He doubted any of them knew anything about him beyond his stats or whatever. Baylor didn’t want him. That had never happened to him before. Admittedly, and as cliche as it was, that had been what truly caught his attention at first. Beyond Baylor’s looks, of course, because the guy was… damn. Dark hair, green eyes, and tiny body. He was an angry sprite. Chipper smiled. Yeah. That was what he liked. Baylor had gumption. He had a spark. The guy was a little mean, to be honest.Le sigh. He had Chipper fascinated. He also worked too damn much. Baylor was killing himself.
Chipper glanced Baylor’s way as he drove home. He was out cold. Chipper fought the urge to run his fingers through Baylor’s thick hair. It looked soft. He wasn’t trying to get creepy, though. The stalking was bad enough. Baylor had been burning up when Chipper checked earlier. He needed to get him home and check for sure. To him, by touch, it felt like he had a really high fever. Chipper needed to know if this should be a trip to the ER.
His house came into view, and he let out a sigh of relief. Worry beat at his brain. He had always been an overthinker, and this was enough to send him over the edge. Illness was his kryptonite. He was ready to dance around Baylor like an old mother hen. Chipper hated this shit. He pulled into his garage and parked his Audi next to his truck. Chipper jumped from the vehicle and circled it to Baylor’s side. He gently lifted him out and carried him inside. Baylor never budged. Chipper’s anxiety shot through the roof. Not only did he not want anything bad to happen to Baylor, but he would also have a hell of a time explaining why he—the guy who had been stalking him—had Baylor’s dead body in his house. That was a bad look.
He chose the spare room next door to his bedroom. There was a connecting door. Chipper could leave it open so he could keep an eye on him throughout the night. As he stepped into the room, Chipper froze. What if this was some sort of flu and Baylor choked on his own vomit or something in the night? Next door wasn’t good enough. Anything could happen. He switched directions and carried Baylor to his bed. Chipper could keep a closer watch over him here.
After getting Baylor settled, Chipper stared at him for a moment. Shoes! Chipper removed the guy's shoes but left his socks. Then he immediately changed his mind and took off his socks too. Chipper hated sleeping in his socks. The guy had nice feet. Chipper wasn’t like a foot guy or anything, but it was obvious Baylor found time to care for himself in some ways. He stepped back again. Baylor still wore his suit. Damn. It took some work, but he got the guy out of his jacket and tie. Then he realized he wouldn’t want to sleep in a long sleeve dress shirt. The pants were probably uncomfortable too, but Chipper wouldn’t go there. He would take off his belt, though. No one wanted to sleep in one of those. He could find Baylor some pajama pants. Chipper tossed out the idea. They were nowhere near the same size. Shit. Baylor had a cute body. Chipper tucked it beneath the covers before he turned into a full-on perv. He went in search of the thermometer.
It took Chipper a minute to find it. He never got sick. Seriously. Never. He had the immune system of a horse. Chipper headed back to the bedroom. At some point, Baylor had rolled onto his side and curled into a ball. He shivered, but was still asleep. Chipper scanned his forehead. The screen turned red and beeped loudly several times—like a blaring alarm. Chipper didn’t know the thing did that. He checked the numbers. Fuck. One hundred and three point four. That sounded bad. Chipper tossed the thermometer on the nightstand and rushed back to the bathroom. He found his bathroom bottle of Tylenol, as opposed to kitchen Tylenol and car Tylenol. Oh, and his living room one. Wait. That was ibuprofen. He might need that too. Chipper hesitated. Which one was better for fever? Fuck it. This one was closer. He raced back into the bedroom and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge in his room. Chipper needed to keep ice packs close after his matches. Plus, he was boujee. He could afford to be.
After cracking open the bottle and shaking out a couple of pills, he sat on the edge of the bed. Chipper ran his fingers through Baylor’s hair. “Hey, gorgeous. I need you to take these pills. You have a really high fever.”
Baylor’s eyes peeked open a hair.
Chipper smiled. “Hi. There you are. Do you think you can sit up enough to take these?”
Baylor tried to sit up.
Chipper helped. He watched over him as Baylor swallowed the meds. It looked like they didn’t want to go down. He was a little worried over Baylor’s lack of fight. It wasn’t like him to have anything to do with Chipper. Much less be in Chipper’s bed. Baylor didn’t even ask where he was.
“What else do you need? I can get it delivered.”
“Everything hurts. Cold.”
Chipper decided, since Baylor was awake enough to consent, now was a good time to get him comfortable. “They’d be huge on you, but would you like to borrow something else to wear? Someone gave me these thick flannel pajamas for Christmas. I never wear them. I’m too hot natured.”
Baylor nodded. He looked ready to fall over.
“Come on.” Chipper got him settled under the covers. “Rest. I’ll grab them.” He rushed around the room, hunting. By the time he found the outfit, Baylor was out of it again. Chipper hated to wake him, but he didn’t know what else to do. “Hey. Here are those pajamas we talked about.” He handed them to Baylor.
Baylor halfheartedly held them against his body. “Can’t. Too tired.”
Chipper shifted from foot to foot. “I could do it, but I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I’m pretty sure I already do that,” Chipper muttered under his breath.
“Don’t feel good enough to care.”
Chipper smiled. Damn. The guy really was sick. Chipper rearranged his features and went to work. He tried to keep things impersonal and made a point of averting his eyes at a certain point. By the time he finished, Baylor shook so hard, Chipper wondered if he should call an ambulance.
“Do I need to call someone?”
Baylor’s teeth chattered. “My assistant. I have appointments.”
“Um. The fuck you do. You’re not leaving this bed until you’re better. Are you trying to fucking kill yourself?”
“Have to reschedule.”
“For fuck’s sake.” He crawled into bed and pushed Baylor over so he could hold him. Chipper piled the covers on top of them. “Let’s get you warm and then I’ll take care of everything. I know your business is everything to you. Lord knows, I know it. But no one wants to meet with you while you’re like this. Nobody wants to catch this shit. Do you want that on you? Do you want clients telling everyone you gave them the bionic flu or whatever?”
Baylor’s teeth chattered. He buried his face against Chipper’s chest. “The code to my phone is easy. It’s nine one one zero zero one. My assistant’s name is Sacha. There’s one only contact on my phone under that name.”
“I should hope so. How many Sacha’s are in the world?”
