Page 80 of Thorns and Ashes
“I get it, Ainsley.” Tom smiles, and she seems to relax before walking away.
“And this is why we can’t have nice things,” Tom grumbles at me once she’s gone. “Come on, we can eat at your place.”
The rest of this week has only gotten worse. By the time my next shift comes around, not only am I emotionally wrecked, but my body has decided to turn against me as well. I had a feeling I might be coming down with something last night, but I thought, there’s no way. I never get sick. Krystal used to joke around and say I must be superhuman because I never took a day off.
“Go home and get some rest.” The Chief doesn’t even bother asking me if that’s what I want to do. He can already see I’m barely hanging on by a thread this morning, and working a Friday-to-Sunday shift when I’m not feeling good would be the worst imaginable torture. Whatever illness I’m coming down withis begging me to close my eyes. I’ve barely said more than two words today since getting to the firehouse. “I’ll cover for you this weekend.”
I barely manage to pick Ellie back up and make it home, but by some miracle, I do. I kick my shoes off, not caring where they end up, and crash onto the bed. If I’m lucky, I’ll finally get a few hours of much-needed sleep in.
Chapter Eighteen
Tris
Rolling over in bed, my eyes flutter open. With a groan, I clutch my comforter, not sure why I’m suddenly awake. The clock on my nightstand says it’s three in the morning.
Absolutely not.
It took me forever to fall asleep tonight, and not without trying. I throw my arm over my eyes and roll onto my side. I’m almost back to sleep when Ellie’s bark sounds through the wall. My body jolts, arm hitting the pillow. It’s not like her to bark at night, and she’s never done that in all the time that Levi has lived here. There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach, but I try to ignore it.
Maybe it’s nothing.
She barks again, and this time there’s a whiny note at the end, like something’s wrong.
I’m out of bed and heading next door before I can think it over. My knuckles tap on the door, but no one answers. I bang harder, and I can hear Ellie on the other side, scratching. That sinking feeling in my stomach returns, and this time it hits with an urgency. I rush back into my place to grab the spare key to Levi’s. I don’t care how mad or hurt I am after our conversation earlier this week. It doesn’t matter.
Something is wrong.
As soon as I’m in, Ellie nudges my leg and takes off for the master bedroom. I stumble through the dark, but thanks to the similar layout, I find my way to his room quickly. Ice-cold fear tears through me as my eyes adjust in the darkness and I find Levi curled in the fetal position on his bed, shaking.
“Levi!” My hand flies over my mouth.
His face and bare chest glisten with sweat in the filtered light streaming through the windows, and when I call his name, he doesn’t answer. His face contorts as if he’s in pain, and Ellie nudges her nose into him, whining, but he doesn’t respond. Driven by my fear, I climb into his bed and reach for his face. His hair is damp from perspiration.
“Levi! Levi, open your eyes. Look at me.”
His eyes barely flutter.
“Levi,” I choke out, scared and unsure what to do.
His eyes open, then roll to the back of his head. He’s burning up, and I have no idea how long he’s been like this. Ellie whines again, mirroring my concern.
“I’ll figure this out. He’ll be okay,” I tell her, hoping that it’s true.
I leap from the bed and search the bathroom for a thermometer and some towels.
“Come on, come on. There has to be something in here that I can use.” I open and close cabinets and drawers until I find what I’m looking for. “Yes!” I pull a washcloth out from under the sink, soak it in cold water, and bring it back to Levi, placing it on his head. He starts to groan, and his trembling worsens.
With shaking hands, I take his temperature.
One hundred and four.
I nearly drop the thermometer. “Oh, my God.” My breaths come quick and short. This isn’t a simple fever. This is life-threatening. Growing up, I learned that any temperature higher than one hundred and four can lead to permanent damage.
“Levi,” I try again. “Levi, open your eyes, please.”
I feel the washcloth on his head, but it’s already become too warm. “Damn it!”
“Levi, I need to get you to the hospital. Can you hear me?” I push his hair out of his face. The bathroom light shines across the room, and he struggles to open his eyes. A small shred of hope shoots through me when his jade-green eyes lock onto mine.
