Page 75 of Slew Foot
“So, you’re going to go home and get some sleep,” Dr. Pope said. “Isolate as much as possible. Wash your hands thoroughly. Sanitize. You know the drill.”
Rafe sighed. “Okay.”
Mickey glanced at his phone. “I think I have time to get you back home before practice.”
“Oh, you live together?” Dr. Pope asked with another frown.
Mickey cleared his throat. “Rafe and Tanner and I share an apartment, yeah.”
He grimaced. “Well, hopefully neither of you will catch it.”
“I think Tanner might already be sick,” Mickey said slowly. “He’s been sneezing a lot in the past few days. I didn’t think anything of it because he’s been well otherwise but …”
A tired look crossed Dr. Pope’s face. “Good to know.”
With a few more words of advice, Dr. Pope let them go.
Rafe let Mickey haul him back to the apartment and tuck him into bed.
He feebly protested when Mickey set up his nightstand with everything he would need and even placed his laptop beside thebed in case he wanted to watch something, but the care felt nice and he was too tired to do it himself.
“Should I bring back chicken soup for lunch?” Mickey asked when he was done.
Rafe glanced up, his tone hopeful. “The kind in the can with the stars in it?”
Mickey gave him a faint smile. “If that’s what you want.”
“Yeah,” Rafe said. “That’s what my mom always gave me.”
“Then that’s what I’ll bring home,” Mickey promised. He pressed his hand to Rafe’s forehead, and it felt cool and soothing. “Nowrest.”
His tone was firm, so Rafe closed his eyes and did what he was told.
Rafe was out cold when Mickey returned to the apartment after practice.
He was snoring a little because of his stuffy nose and his hair was sweaty and curling a little on his forehead. He hadn’t shaved this morning, so his beard was especially thick and dark.
Mickey resisted the urge to touch him again. Rafe had pushed up into the touch earlier and …
Mickey bit off a curse.No. He wasn’t going there.
Mickey straightened the blankets and used a fresh tissue to clean up the used ones that hadn’t quite made it into the trash can while he was gone, then slathered himself in sanitizer.
“How’s he doing?” Tanner asked with a frown when he returned to the living room. He seemed to be pretty much over whatever he’d had a few days ago.
“Sleeping,” Mickey said.
“That’s good.” A guilty look crossed Tanner’s face. “I didn’t mean to make him sick.”
“No one thinks you did,” Mickey said with a soft laugh. “It might help if you didn’t swap spit with half of Boston but …”
Tanner scowled and chucked a pillow at him. It landed at Mickey’s feet.
“Think I should wake him up to eat?” Mickey asked, tossing the pillow back onto the couch, out of Tanner’s immediate reach.
“Nah, let him sleep. I’m sure that’ll help more than anything.”
But Rafe seemed to get worse throughout the day, tossing and turning and throwing off the covers to reveal he wore nothing but boxer briefs underneath.
