He put an arm around my shoulders to help me sit up when my trembles made it clear I couldn’t do it alone. I leaned against him and lifted shaky hands to my buttons. Why were they so hard to undo? Had the buttons grown and the holes shrunk? My fingers were clumsy.
Ryan gently pressed them out of the way. Shifting his arm on my back and sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands—most at home when shooting three-pointers—were soft as kisses as he unfastened the buttons on my sodden top. He held the cuff so I could pull my right hand out of the sleeve, then traded support arms and peeled it off my back, carefully freeing my left hand. The cool air hit my damp skin and I began to shiver, hugging my arms across my chest, too cold and weary to be embarrassed.
“This probably isn’t how you imagined seeing me topless.” I tried to joke, but my teeth chattered and mangled the words.
He helped thread my arms through new sleeves. “Plenty of time for that when you’re better.” He was being so careful and his fingers brushed like whispers, but still left aching pathways on my fevered skin.
Eyes shut, I leaned my throbbing head against his shoulder as he closed the buttons over my blue-white stomach.
“It’s not the right time, not how I planned it, but I have to tell you—” His fingers stilled on my third button and he turned his lips toward my ear. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”
I was trying to summon the energy to lift my head and look at him; the noise of the door opening barely registered.
“Hey—” The greeting crashed to a stop. “You’re unbelievable, Winters. This is a hospital.” Disdain dripped off each word. I twisted my head—still on Ryan’s shoulder—to see Gyver at the door, his face darkened with contempt.
“God, what’s wrong with you? She’s sick. I would never—” Ryan’s voice choked off and he turned his back on Gyver. Fastening my last three buttons, he eased me back against the pillow and tucked the blankets up. I shivered as the cool sheets replaced his body heat.
Gyver dismissed him. “It’s nothing compared to this summer—not that you’d know.”
“You’re right. I wasn’t here then. But I’m here now—so stop acting like you know everything.” His voice was fierce, but the hand on my cheek was gentle and cool.
“It’s just the flu,” Gyver said.
“She’s neutropenic—she has no immune system,” corrected Ryan. “There’s no ‘just’ about anything she catches. Do you know how bad her counts are? Or that her temp went up four degrees since yesterday?”
“Where’d you learn all that?” My voice was too thin to reflect my shock.
“The nurses just now. Internet. Books from your dad. And I listened when the doctor was talking to you.” He sounded miserable. “I don’t want you to end up in isolation.”
“Isolation?” Gyver and I asked.
“My God, Mia. Were you in the same room when the doctor was talking? If you don’t respond to antibiotics, you have to go in isolation. That’s why there are hand-washing signs all over your door and why the nurses keep telling us ‘no kissing.’”
“But they were saying I might go home today. Weren’t they?” It was so hard to remember; it seemed so long ago.
“Yesterday it looked good, but now your fever’s back up.” He reached for my hand, stroking it with his thumb.
Gyver had gasped “huh?” when Ryan mentioned kissing. I shut my eyes. It was much more likely I was sicker via the stress of last night than the barely-brushed-lips kiss I’d stolen from him. Perhaps I should’ve reassured Gyver, but I couldn’t. “Ryan was helping me change. I sweated through my shirt,” I offered instead.
I peeked from beneath lowered lids; Gyver looked defeated, wilted. “Mi, how’d you get so sick? You were fine. I would’ve stayed.” He took a step forward, then stopped. Ryan was in his spot.
“I’m just tired,” I mouthed.
“’Course you’re tired, you didn’t sleep well last night. You can as soon as your meds come. Promise.”
“You stayed here?” There was a long pause before Gyver continued in a detached voice, “I came to talk about yesterday, but it looks like you don’t need me.”
The tears started as a whimper this time. They leaked from under closed lids and felt icy on my fevered face.
“Don’t cry, baby.” Ryan’s soft breath on my neck as his hand wiped my face; Gyver’s panicked, “Mi—”
I didn’t open my eyes, couldn’t look at either of them. Or my parents, doctors, and nurses when they arrived.
“There’s too many people in here,” barked Business Nurse over the melee of greetings, status updates, and my mother’s loud wailing. My hand instinctively closed on Ryan’s.
“I guess I’ll go,” Gyver offered.
I didn’t protest. Didn’t open my eyes.
Couldn’t bear to see him walk away from me for the second time in two days.
Chapter 36