“You look more focused now. I think the fever finally broke. That first day, you were out of it. You kept talking nonsense.”
“What kind of nonsense?” I asked.
He reached over to the nightstand, grabbed the pill bottle, uncapped it, and shook a couple of tablets into his hand.
“Something about needing to be awake to write a letter,” he muttered, almost like he was trying not to laugh. “You kept talking about letters. You said you had to pay off the postman to deliver them. I couldn’t make out half of what you were saying.”
He didn’t understand it, but I did. Even when feverish, I’d been thinking about her.
“Take these,” he insisted, offering me the pills.
I lifted my hand, slow and shaky, palm up. “I can put them in my mouth myself.”
“Good. Because I’ve had to force you to take them these past days,” he told me.
Lifting my arm hurt like hell, but I refused to fail. I popped the pills into my mouth and swallowed.
“Water,” Dad said. “Drink water, Julian.”
Oh, right.He brought the water to my mouth. I let him help me drink it, though I felt weak as hell for needing such help.
“Stop frowning,” he said. “This isn’t the first time I’ve taken care of you like this. When you were younger, you got into fights all the damn time. Always trying to hang with your older cousins.”
I cracked a smile. When they fought, I fought. That was the Cattaneo way. I couldn’t back down just because the boys were older and bigger than me. If Raz, Cas, Bryce, and Rome fought, I fought. End of story.
We’re blood, so we bleed together... that’s what Rome used to say all the time.
“You should’ve asked for help,” Dad said, his voice dipping lower. “You should’ve had someone go with you, son.”
“I handled it.”
“Yeah, but look at you. That big motherfucker put a whooping on you.”
I chuckled and immediately regretted it. Pain flared through my ribs.
“He was big as hell,” I groaned. “He was like two men. I was fighting three men, technically.”
Dad smirked, shaking his head. “I’ve fought more back in my day.”
“Yeah, right,” I said, still grinning even though it hurt to do so. “Back in your day, y’all were slapping each other with gloves and challenging each other to duels.”
He laughed so hard, he made the bed shake. “I’m not that old, boy.” My dad placed his hand against my forehead. “You’re no longer hot. But you still need to rest for a while. I’ll handle things at the company. You just focus on getting better.”
I nodded. “You didn’t tell Mom, did you?” I asked.
“Of course I did. She’s in your kitchen making soup right now.”
My eyes widened. “Dad! I told you not to.”
“Son, I was not about to keep this from your mother. Plus, she was with me when you called. She heard the conversation.”
“Still...” I whispered, gaze drifting to the door, wanting to see her walk through it, but dreading it also.
“Since you can’t hang up on me or walk away, now is the best time to talk to you about this. Why have you been avoiding coming home? Why have you been avoiding me and your mom? Are you hiding something? Is it because of the blind dates I suggested?”
“No, Dad. And I’m not avoiding you. I just didn’t want Mom having to come all this way to...”
“All what way? She didn’t drive here. I did. She’s a passenger princess. Stop dancing around the answer.”