Page 34 of Splintered Memories
August was unbelievably steady as he walked. The motion of his steps swayed slightly, but I focused on the warmth of his body, thestrength of his arms curled around me. If my brain wasn’t currently burning itself senseless, I would’ve roiled against being touched like this. I would’ve fought with every ounce of strength I had. But I supposed there wasn’t any strength left in me, because my body was placid, dangling from his grip.
We were almost to my bed when a wave of nausea hit me. My stomach cramped, and I stiffened. My fingers curled tighter into his shirt as my molars ground together in a desperate attempt to not throw up all over him.
August stilled, pausing as I rode out the queasiness.
“You okay?” he eventually asked, still not moving.
The muscles in my jaw ached as I forced it open. “I can’t lay in bed. I don’t—I don’t want to vomit all over my sheets.”
He gave a barely perceptible shrug. “I can wash the sheets if that happens.”
I was going to argue again, but he took the few steps to my bed and lowered me into it. A sigh slipped from my lips as I sank into the soft mattress. My eyes closed as if on their own as I curled up on my side.
August pulled my comforter over my body and the warmth started to chase away the chills. Those rough fingertips brushed against my forehead, so very gently.
“You didn’t change your bandage last night.”
No, I hadn’t. I’d been too tired when I’d dragged myself to my room. As I thought back, my whole body had been aching. I’d assumed it was from the attack, but now I was pretty sure it was from whatever virus raged through my system.
A soft sigh, and a low chuckle tickled my ears. “You stubborn woman.”
I wanted to scowl back at him, but I couldn’t get my eyes to open. My stomach was still in knots and everything hurt, but being in bed was a comfort I hadn’t known I’d needed. I couldn’t remember the last time I was sick like this. I never got sick.
A hand squeezed my shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
I wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to come back, I could take care of myself. But I couldn’t find the words. They got lost on the journey from my brain to my mouth.
I was asleep before August’s footsteps disappeared.
Somethingtuggedatmyforehead, followed by a wisp of pain that made me wince.
I struggled to open my eyes. When I did, I saw nothing but August. His lips were pursed, brow furrowed in concentration as he squinted at my forehead.
“What…” I started, but didn’t have the energy to finish the sentence.
August kept his eyes pinned on my forehead. “I’m changing your bandage and inspecting your wound.”
Oh, right. That.
He reached for something on the bedside table. A bottle of antibiotic ointment and a fresh bandage. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t want to look away. He placed a dab of the ointment on the pad of the bandage before he carefully applied it over the gash on my skin. I hadn’t realized he’d already removed the old bandage. That was probably what had woken me.
His fingers were feather soft as he secured the adhesive, and then he met my eyes. “It looks good. It’ll be mostly healed in a few days.”
I already knew that. I stared at him, confused about why he was still in my room. This wasn’t a part of his job description. I had read the contract.
“What?” He frowned at the look on my face.
I narrowed my eyes but didn’t reply.
His mouth thinned, but something glimmered in his eyes. “If I would’ve known that sickness would paralyze that sharp tongue of yours, I might’ve tried to get you infected sooner.”
I rolled my eyes, and a low chuckle rumbled in his chest. We stared at each other then, neither of us speaking. That glimmer of humor dissipated as worry replaced it.
“Here.” He reached for the bedside table again. He pushed a few pills into my hand and offered me a glass of water. “Take these. It’s some ibuprofen, but hopefully it’ll bring that fever down and help with the muscle aches.”
I wondered how he knew about the aches, but I didn’t linger on the thought as I tossed the medicine in my mouth and grabbed the water. I was careful, only taking a very small sip and praying that it stayed down.
After I swallowed, August frowned. “You should probably drink more. You don’t want to get dehydrated.”
