Page 89 of The Christmas Dash

It’s a good thing I feel too miserable to even think about how not put-together I look right now. I’m sure I’d be mortified to have Gabe see me so out of it like this if I had the energy to care.

“Can you swallow some ibuprofen?” He sets the water bottle down and grabs for a medicine bottle. He taps it into his hand and holds out his palm for me. In it, I see two orange-colored pills.

I go to reach for them, but I realize my arms are basically in the straightjacket of my covers that he tucked me into.

“Open up,” he says kindly.

I open my mouth, and he drops the pills onto my tongue. He gets me my water, and I take another messy sip but manage to swallow.

“I’ve got a couple crackers for you to eat too, if you can.” Gabe’s soft voice makes me sigh.

I wince at the thought of crackers, and he must sense my hesitation.

“Better not to take meds on an empty stomach.”

I nod, and he finger-feeds me a soda cracker, holding a plate under my chin so I don’t get crumbs in my bed. He’s being so nice—so considerate. If it wouldn’t hurt so much, I’d cry.

“That should help,” he says when I finish my last bite. “Need anything else?”

You.

I hear a sharp intake of breath and tense.

Did I say that out loud?

I swallow. “My mind is all fuzzy.”

Gabe brushes hair off my forehead, feeling my burning skin with the back of his hand.

“The best thing you can do is sleep. It’ll help you feel better and give the drugs a chance to work. Hopefully your fever will break soon and you’ll feel more lucid.”

My eyes fall closed again. I blink, working to keep them open and bring Gabe back into my line of sight. Not only because he’s really nice to look at, but because I have so many questions. Why is he here? How did he know I needed someone? Needed him? What does it all mean?

“Right now, I feel like I got run over by a truck,” I tell him, and tears burn the backs of my eyes and clog up my throat, making my voice give out.

“Shh. I know, Bethy.” He’s stroking my hair now. “I’m so sorry. It’s miserable to be sick. Try to go back to sleep for me, okay?”

“Don’t leave,” I whimper, and I have enough mental bandwidth to know I should be embarrassed by how needy I sound . . . but not enough energy to care.

“I won’t. I’ll be here when you wake up. Promise.”

I close my eyes at that, drifting off to sleep and knowing that with Gabe here, somehow, everything will be okay.

Chapter 28

Gabe

I’m sitting on the couch in Beth’s front room, reading the Ava Reece novel she had on her end table, when I hear the door to her bedroom open. It’s been about eight hours since I got here. Seven and a half since she fell out of bed. I’ve checked on her a couple times, and she’s been completely zonked.

In the meantime, I made a pot of chicken-and-wild-rice soup and cleaned the kitchen when I was done. I’m not a tidy cook, and I didn’t want to make more work for Beth when I was trying to help her.

The pot of soup has been simmering on the stovetop, ready for her to eat it whenever she makes it back to the land of the living.

Now, I stick my finger in my book to mark my page and crane my neck around. I catch sight of her stumbling toward me, and something in my gut clenches. It’s like an invisible hand reached inside my chest and is trying to pull me in her direction. It doesn’t have to try too hard. She’s the direction I want to go. I know that with a certainty I haven’t had in years.

I’m up and off the couch in an instant, striding toward her.

“Hey. How are you feeling?”