Page 11 of What's Rogue Got To Do With It

“The pharmacist gave these to me. He said they would help.”

“Gave?” He opened his mouth and I put a pill in, holding up the water so the straw reached his lips.

“Yeah... gave. He scented your infection on me.”

He sucked some water and swallowed the pill.

“Not human?

“No. Not fully.”

He froze. “I need to leave.”

“You don’t.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “Trust me. I’ll be the first one telling us to go if I sense any problem. Trust me.”

I wasn’t sure if he did or not, but his eyes were already sagging, and I eased him back down to his pillow.

“I need to do some really thorough cleaning of your wounds. It’s going to hurt. I’m sorry.”

I pulled back the quilt, took off the bandages, and began to disinfect again. This time, being a bit rougher than I had before, not allowing a speck of dirt to remain. I hated that I was hurting him, but I’d rather that than bury him.

He fell back asleep after I cleaned and finished treating his wound. I woke him when I needed him to take a pill or have alittle bit of soup, but other than that, let him sleep. He needed it for his body to heal.

For two days, we held that pattern. And then, on the third, he woke up looking better than I’d ever seen him.

“I stink,” were the first words out of his mouth.

He did and the fact that he cared meant he was a ton better.

“Yeah, good thing I have water and soap.” A sponge bath and new sheets would do him wonders.

“Do you think I could stand enough for a shower?”

“I could hold you.” Going from bed ridden to a shower was a pretty big leap, but if he wanted to try, I was going to do everything I could to help him.

He looked at me, bit his lip, and sat up.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Fabulous. I made him uncomfortable, which was the exact opposite of my intent. “I wouldn’t?—”

“No,” he cut me off. “I never thought that you would… it’s that my wolf is kind of being... pushy.”

“Tell me about it. My fox is the same way. He doesn’t understand why I haven’t marked you already. But let’s not worry about that now. Let’s get you all the way healthy first.” If our conversation went poorly, which, how could it not? I’d feel horrible having him feeling stuck here. It was far better to wait.

“How about this… I tell you about where I grew up while you take a shower? That way, if you need me, I’m there—but itdoesn’t feel...you know.” I wasn’t sure I knew— too personal, too arousing, too close? But it was definitely too something.

He agreed and I helped him to the bathroom and turned on the water. He only wore a pair of boxers, his high fever making him sweat regardless of what he was wearing. I helped out of them and into the shower making sure to look away so this wasn’t more awkward than it had to be. The shower was the size of a tiny little phone booth, which normally sucked, but in this case was good. He might not be able to stand up fully, but he wasn’t going to fall down either.

“What do you want to know?” I was an open book, at least for him I was.

“What was your favorite thing as a kit?”

“Hmmm, let me think…. my favorite thing was ... den dinners. Not the normal ones, but the ones we had when the grown-ups went on their runs.”

I told him all about the potlucks and especially the cookies my dad used to make and how the other kits and I would crawl around and pretend we already had our animals. It was a carefree time and one I enjoyed talking about.

A few minutes in, he admitted defeat and asked for my help, which I gladly gave. Washing his hair first and then his skin until the water ran cold.

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