Page 54 of Haze

Her temperature is 106. Should I be doing anything for her?

A few minutes pass but they feel like hours.

Dinah Alloway:

How long do you think it’s been that high?

About 90 minutes.

See if she has an ice pack, try and bring it down a bit. Between her legs, under her arms, or around her neck, depending on the size of the ice pack and your comfort level. I’ll text you once we’re in the air.

I head to the freezer. One of the few things in her freezer, next to a bag of broccoli and cheese, is a solid ice bag.

“Finn,” she murmurs when I come with the bag, wrapped in a soft towel.

“I’m here, Kathleen.” My voice comes out gravelly with fear, and I can’t fight it back. “You’re really sick, faolan. Cade is sending Dinah Alloway to take a look. She said to cool you off, I’ve got a cold pack for you,” I whisper to stop the quake of fear. I run my hand through her hair. “Where do you want to put it?”

“Go away,” she hisses.

The light feeling in my chest from her asking for me slowly fades as she demands I leave.

I inform her, “I’m not going anywhere until you’re safe. Let’s get you lying on this ice bag.”

Pulling her up slightly, I rest the cool bag behind her shoulders and neck.

She shudders hard, her teeth immediately chattering. I pull the blankets off the end of the bed to cover her, hoping it helps with the chills. It seems like the right move. Dinah will be here soon enough to tell me how badly I’m fucking up.

I don’t know how to care for someone sick. I’ve helped with the wounded, the bleeding out, and the ones on the way to death’s door but never anything like this.

“I’ll be back in a bit, Kathleen. Get some rest.” I leave the bedroom door only slightly ajar as I walk out.

I begin pacing and turn on the living room light now that the sun is setting.

Our mate is unwell. My wolf paces inside me. We’re back and forth across her apartment. I finish the dishes from our last meal and scrounge the fridge but find no remaining food.

I check on Lena every ten minutes and message Dinah updates about the fever holding steady for the entire flight. She instructs me on moving and removing the ice bag. Lena objects less and less each time.

Finally, a message with hope comes in.

Dinah Alloway:

I’ve landed at MSP and I’m catching a car to head that way. Cade mentioned you’re carrying a firearm. I’d appreciate not seeing it. I’ll be coming to the door wearing a set of blue scrubs. You’ll be able to see the family resemblance, but in the event not, here’s a picture of Lena and me at Equinox this spring.

A beautiful picture of Lena and another woman comes through. They’re smiling wide. You’d have to be an idiot to miss the family resemblance between them. In tidying up, I had hung my coat by the door. I look at the chest holster tucked inside and rotate the folds to hide it from sight. I have nowhere to put it besides the rental car, which is a good way to lose an unmarked gun.

Dinah Alloway:

Have you eaten? I know Lena is a shit cook so I can’t imagine that you’ve had anything substantial since before her heat. Text me what you like. I’ll get it.

Do you know what she took?

Never mind on the medication, I’ll figure that out when I get there.

Not in the last 12 hours, but we ate well during her heat. I can cook. I don’t know what she took.

I sit for barely a quarter of a rugby match, trying to distract myself, before there’s a knock at the door.

When I’m within talking distance of the door, I ask, “Who’s there?”

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