Love Rewritten Page 18

  “What am I going to do for ten days without you?” he asks, running his hand down my dripping hair as he stands behind me.

  I laugh a little. “I’m sure you’ll manage.” I’m suddenly exhausted again and want to shower up and get out so I can lounge and do nothing.

  Grabbing my bottle of shampoo, he pours some into his hands, massaging it into my hair. “I don’t think so. I’m far more addicted to you than I let on.”

  “Hmmm,” is all I can manage as his fingers work their magic in my hair.

  “Abby?” he starts, sounding unsure, “now that your manuscript isn’t due the week after break, do you want to come home with me?”

  Shit.

  My eyes fly open as I stare, unseeing at the white tile covering the wall.

  What the hell do I say to that?

  I really don’t want to.

  I’m just not there with him yet, but how do I tell him no without hurting his feelings? I know his feelings for me are deeper than my own, and maybe it’s unfair of me not to have said something about that.

  “Honestly, Brandon,” I begin and then stall for a second before I continue, turning around to face him, “if I was going to go anywhere next week, I’d fly home, but I’m not feeling great and am kind of looking forward to the downtime. Is it okay if I just stay here?” I bite my lip, worried how he’ll take this. I know he wants me there. This is the second time he’s asked me and I feel bad about turning him down.

  Just not bad enough to say yes.

  “Of course. It’s fine. I realize it’s a lot to ask after only being together such a short time.” He doesn’t say this with any indication of hurt or aggravation in his voice, but I can sense it’s there underneath.

  “That’s not it entirely. I mean, it’s not like I don’t want to meet your family, especially your brother. I do and I want to be with you, but the thought of getting on a plane right now isn’t appealing.”

  “I understand,” he says with a smile and I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes a little. “I do,” he laughs. “Really, it’s cool. Maybe I’ll come back a day or two early and we can have some alone time then.”

  “I’d like that, but I don’t want you to miss out on time with your brother, so we’ll see how the week goes.”

  “Deal.”

  CHAPTER 19

  MY CHEST FEELS LIKE IT’S going to explode and scalding hot lava will come pouring out. My head is full and heavy and my body aches like I’ve never felt before.

  Ever.

  I want to die.

  Preferably this very moment.

  I should have gone into the walk-in center today, but I just couldn’t build up the energy to drag my ass out of bed. Aubrey, along with everyone else, left yesterday and here I am, lying in my bed, coughing like crazy and trying to bring air into my shredded lungs at ten at night.

  The door to my room flies open and Xander stomps over to me with a heavy march.

  “You sound terrible,” he barks, but freezes as he reaches the side of my bed. “Fuck,” he mutters, bending down and placing his hand on my forehead. “Why didn’t you go to see the doctor today?” he asks in a softer note and I just don’t have it in me to answer him, so I start to cry instead. But the act is so painful and exhausting that I give up on that quickly too. “Oh, Abby.” His hand caresses my cheek, his eyes glazed with worry. “Can you walk?”

  “I don’t know,” I admit. I don’t even think I can get out of my bed. Thankfully, I’m already dressed in a sweatshirt, pajama pants and heavy socks, because I’ve been shivering, despite taking three Advil earlier.

  “I’ve got you,” he whispers gently as he lifts me up into his arms, cradling me close to his chest. “I’m taking you to the emergency room.”

  “No, Xander,” I start to protest, “I’ll just go to the walk-in tomorrow.” I can feel his head shaking as he bounces me in his arms. I realize we’ve left our apartment and are waiting for the elevator. I feel beyond silly in his arms like this. “Put me down.”

  “Stop fighting me, Abby. You’re burning up with fever and are far too light in my arms. You can barely lift your head for, Christ’s sake. Just let me take care of you and get you to the hospital.” I feel his hand touch the back of my hair tenderly and I just don’t have it in me to pull away from him.

  “Thank you,” I whimper, leaning my head against him further, breathing in his comforting smell that reminds me of home, even if my home doesn’t actually smell like aftershave, body wash and something that can only be described as unique to Xander. “I feel so ridiculous.”

  And I completely do. I’m being carried like a baby.

  “I’m so angry with you for this, Abby.”

  “I didn’t ask you to take me to the hospital.” I snap indignantly, and then lapse into a coughing fit.

  “That’s not why I’m mad at you, sweetheart,” he says when I’m done coughing, but doesn’t elaborate.

  “Then why are you mad?” I can’t help but ask.

  “Because you didn’t take proper care of yourself. You allowed it to get to the point where you’re so sick that you can barely move. Your fever is so high that I’m sweating just from having you near me.”

  Even though I want to say something biting back to him for making me feel like a child, I know deep down that he’s right. I didn’t take good care of myself. And I can hear the worried edge to his voice, so I know that’s where his anger stems from.

  I feel the tears starting again. I always cry when I’m sick. But I really don’t want to cry in front of Xander. So I do that unladylike sniffle thing as he sets me down next to the passenger door of his car.

  He unlocks it, opening it up and trying to help me in, but I push him away, not wanting to feel totally useless. We ride to the hospital in total silence. Not even the radio is playing, but given the pounding in my head, I’m not complaining.

  I’m slouched against the car window when we come to a stop.

  “We’re here,” he whispers, brushing some hair off my face.

  “You can just drop me off. You don’t have to stay.”

  His eyes lock into mine for a solid minute.

  I’m too afraid to even blink, for fear that I’ll miss a half second of it. His fingertips lightly brush against my forehead before gliding down and cupping my cheek. I lean into him. I can’t freaking stop myself from doing it. He finally breaks eye contact, turning away and opening his door, slamming it shut behind him.

  “Go sit down.” He points to a green love seat made out of what looks like hard, unforgiving pleather. I do as I’m told and he goes over to the lady at the front desk and starts speaking to her. The large waiting room is pretty empty. One of the benefits of living in a college town during spring break, no doubt. Only three other people sit in the waiting room, and are all collected in the other seating area that is set in front of a wall-mounted flat screen television broadcasting national news.

  The chair is just as uncomfortable as I imagined it would be and the second my sore, aching body hits the hard plastic, I groan. I’m missing my bed right now something fierce and part of me is tempted to go ask Xander if we can just do this tomorrow, but I’m here and I know that he will just shoot me down.

  He comes and sits down next to me, with an intolerant expression. “It should only be a few minutes. The nurse said they’re not that busy tonight.

  “I’m sorry you got stuck with this.” I look over to him, my eyes welling up despite my best efforts. “You really can go. I’ll be fine.”

  “Abby?” He looks at my cheek waiting for a response.

  “Yes?”

  “Do me a favor and just stop with the apologies and telling me to go already. I’m here and I’m staying. There is no way I’m leaving you alone in the emergency room in the middle of the night.”

  I nod and the tears start to fall, but I reach up quickly to brush them away, turning my head in a vain attempt to hide them.

  “Come here, baby.” He pulls my body into his, burying my he
ad in his warm chest, as his arms encompass me. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, skimming his lips against the top of my head. “I’m just really worried about you and I don’t handle that well,” he admits and it only makes my tears fall harder. “I’ve got you. Shhh. It’s okay.” He runs his hand down my hair. “I’ve got you, baby.” He rests his cheek on the top of my head and I close my eyes, enjoying a moment I know won’t last much longer and is only happening now because I’m sick.

  “Abigail Scofield?” A young nurse, probably in her late twenties, wearing dark green scrubs, calls my name. I raise my head reluctantly from Xander’s chest, which is a little wet with my tears and start to stand up.

  “That’s me,” I tell her, walking in her direction.

  “Your boyfriend can come back too.” She nods her head in Xander’s direction and for a moment I’m about to correct her, but I doubt she cares and really, what’s the point?

  I turn, wave a hand for him to follow and he stands with a small, relieved grin.

  We both follow the nurse, who introduces herself as Catherine, back behind two large metal doors into a brightly lit area that is a mass of different quartered off rooms with light yellow curtains, and one large long work area with various boards and monitors behind it.

  “This way, dear,” she says with a kind voice, walking me back into a room that has a glass sliding door. “What brings you in here tonight?” Her warm brown eyes go first to Xander, but then settle on me.

  “I’ve been sick for a few weeks with what I was told was bronchitis, but in the last few days I’ve gotten worse.” And then I start to cough because I just spoke one of my longest sentences of the night.

  She holds her hand up. “I get the picture.” She writes something down in a binder before hooking me up to some machines to check my vital signs. “Your temperature is 102.6.” Well that explains why I feel like death. “Have you taken any medications?”

  I nod. “I took three Advil a few hours ago.” Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t comment on that and proceeds to write something down.

  “All right, well, we’re going to need to get you changed into this johnny.” She tosses me a thin blue checkered half gown that is fastened only by strings. I’ve had to wear these before when I went to the gynecologist and I’m not liking the imagery that this is conjuring up. “I’ll be back to hook up an IV and draw some blood. Dr. Friedman is on duty tonight and he should be in shortly.” She smiles before leaving us alone.

  “Uh. I’ll just step out so you can get changed,” Xander says with an uneasy expression.

  “Xander?” I ask so timidly I’m surprised he heard me, but he turns to me expectantly so I know he did. “I really hate to ask, but I can barely raise my arms.” I close my eyes, swallowing down my guilt and shame as my cheeks flame a deeper red than I’m sure they already are. “Can you just stay and help me get changed. I’m sorry,” I add quickly when his expression resembles something similar to terror.

  “Oh, Abby.” He shakes his head.

  “You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need your help.” I start to cough and I think this does it for him, because I practically collapse back onto the rock hard plastic bed when I’m done. I’ve never felt so weak and helpless in my life.

  “Fine.” He walks over to me, putting his hands on either side of the hem of my sweatshirt, swallowing hard.

  “It’s okay.” I look up at him briefly. “I know I look like hell right now and that I’m the last girl in the world you find attractive anyway. I know it’s not like that for you with me. You’re just helping me out. It’s okay,” I tell him again, trying to make this more comfortable though this is the farthest thing from a comfortable situation.

  But I do need his help.

  I can barely sit up, and just the thirty foot walk it took to get back here and into this room completely eliminated any energy I had left.

  He doesn’t say anything, just closes his eyes, lifting my sweatshirt over my head. I cover my bare breasts with the gown thing, slipping my arms into it. Xander reaches around, tying the strings at the back of my neck. I manage to scoot myself out of my pajama pants. Once I’m more naked than I’ve been all night in this stupid johnny, I collapse against the thin white sheet on the gurney, covering myself with a blanket.

  “You do look like hell,” Xander finally says after being silent for almost five minutes. My eyes find him, but I don’t move my head or body because it hurts too much. “But you’re still by far and away the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  He sits down in one of the hard chairs that they have for visitors. Pulling out his cell phone, he busies himself with it, ignoring me and the weight of his words that clench my already heavy chest.

  “Miss Scofield, I’m doctor Friedman.” A young guy, maybe twenty-eight at best, comes in the room. He’s the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome with smoldering deep brown eyes and perfectly coiffed matching brown hair. He’s wearing blue scrubs and black shoes, with a white lab coat and the requisite stethoscope around his neck.

  He’s the equivalent of George Clooney from ER. I’m watching the door for the bald guy from Revenge of the Nerds to walk in, followed by Noah Wiley.

  “I understand you’ve been sick for a few weeks and was previously diagnosed with a viral bronchitis.”

  I nod.

  “Okay. I’m going to give you a brief exam and probably order a chest x-ray to rule out pneumonia. Catherine is also going to come back in and give you an IV with some fluids and get some blood for labs.”

  He walks over to me, pulling his stethoscope off his neck. The smile he’s giving me is meant to be comforting, but it’s not. It’s seductive. Maybe that’s just because he’s too good-looking to be a doctor. Modelling would be a more appropriate career choice for him.

  “Turn on your side for me,” he says softly. My eyes scroll over to Xander who isn’t paying any attention to me or the doctor. His eyes are fixed on his phone screen. “You have a very high fever despite the use of antipyretics. That is a little concerning to me. Have you noticed a decrease in your appetite and shortness of breath?”

  “Yes. To both,” I answer. Antipyretics?

  “All right.” He places his hand on my shoulder as his cold stethoscope presses against the exposed skin of my back causing me to break out in chills. “Some slow deep breaths for me, Abby.” He calls me by my first name—my nickname at that—like we’re old friends.

  But I could care less what he calls me as long as he makes me better.

  I take two deep breaths and before I know it, I’m coughing for my life. Dr. Friedman waits me out, and then I give him a few more. They’re more shallow this time because the deep breaths are painful and make me feel lightheaded.

  “So, am I dying?” I jest, lying back against the hard mattress when he’s finished listening to both sides of my chest and doing a few other things like looking in my ears and throat. Xander hasn’t glanced up from his phone once, and I’m a little relieved by that.

  This is embarrassing enough.

  Dr. Friedman chuckles. “No, Abby, you’re not dying.” He touches my shoulder lightly. “But your lungs sound pretty bad. They are filled with what’s called rhonchi, which is a type of sound that could indicate pneumonia. And since you didn’t clear that sound from one particular area when you coughed, I’d be willing to bet that’s what you have.”

  “Pneumonia?” Xander finally looks up with an expression that says he’s annoyed again. “So if she had taken better care of herself, say, last week, it might not have gotten his far?”

  “Give it a rest, Xander. I’m here and it’s too late to go back in time. You sound like Aubrey.” I roll my eyes and then regret it because my head feels like it will explode.

  “He’s just worried about you. Boyfriends are like that,” Dr. Friedman says, trying to be the peace keeper. I start to protest and so does Xander, but Friedman keeps going. “I’m going to order a chest x-ray and get you started on some medications to lower your feve
r and some fluids as well. I think you’re also a little dehydrated. That’s certainly not helping your fever go down. You rest up. I’ll be back after the x-ray.” Dr. Friedman gives me that smile again before walking out and leaving the two of us alone.

  CHAPTER 20

  XANDER AND I DON’T SPEAK to each other for the next hour while the nurse comes in and places an IV in my arm, takes blood and checks another set of vital signs. We also don’t speak when I get the x-ray or when everything is finished. We don’t speak until we’re waiting again. It’s well past midnight and he looks beyond exhausted.

  “Why don’t you go home and get some rest? I’ll be fine here and I can always take a cab home later.”

  “I’m not leaving you.” His head leans back against the thin wall, stretching his long legs out in front of him as he tries to get comfortable.

  “Then come here.” I scoot over in my bed all the way up against the railing on the side the IV is hooked up, dripping a bag of clear fluids into my arm.

  “What?” His head lifts from the wall to look at me.

  I pull back the meager white blanket and pat the space next to me on the small hard bed. “Come and sleep here. You look exhausted and very uncomfortable. If you’re going to stay and suffer through this with me, you should at least get some sleep.”

  “I’m not getting in the bed with you.” He looks almost appalled, yet as his eyes linger on the space I just patted. He’s tempted. “You’re sick. I’m fine here.”

  “Xander, please.” I pat the mattress again.

  “I don’t think your boyfriend would like me sleeping next to you.” He smirks a little, shifting in his seat. I know he wants to take me up on this offer, but in typical Xander fashion, is far too stubborn to just say yes.

  Especially to me.

  I snort. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not like you’re going to try something on me. Come on,” I wave my hand towards myself. “We could be here for hours and if you won’t go home, then I’d feel better if I knew you were at least getting some sleep.”