Jess pushed herself up to sit next to him. “In case you didn’t get the memo, it’s my turn to take care of you right now.” Ike dropped his face into his hands on a groan, and Jess’s cool hand massaged his neck. “Oh, my God. You’re so hot.”
He chuffed out a small laugh. “Why, thank you.”
Jess chuckled. “You realize you don’t have to fish for compliments, right? Not from me. Because I will straight-up tell you that the sight of your Ravens tat stretched over all these muscles gives me a lady boner.” Her fingers traced the design across his shoulder blades—a spread-winged raven perched on the hilt of a dagger sunk into the eye socket of a skull. The block letters of the club’s name arched over the menacing black bird.
He threw her some major side-eye. “I know I’m sick because the perverted part of my brain just heard you say my ink gives you a lady boner.”
She waggled her eyebrows and laughed. The sound was so free and playful, he almost eked out a smile in return. Right before he thanked God that he was too sick to react to her saying something so ridiculously hot. Under any other circumstances, he had no doubt he’d be popping a boner of his own after hearing that spill from her lips.
“I didn’t know your brain had any other parts,” she said, grinning.
Fuck, smiling hurt. “Stop making me laugh.”
“But I like to make you laugh.”
Ike groaned. “I’m dying.”
Jess’s expression was full of sympathy. “I know. Think you could stand a cold shower? Might help.”
He barked out a laugh that turned into a scratchy cough. If she knew the shit that had been going through his head, she’d realize how ironically appropriate her question was. “Yeah, I’ll try that.”
Ike stood under the cool shower for a long time, his hands braced against the white tile, his head hanging on his shoulders so that the water rained down on his neck. By the time he was done, he was freezing, which he took as a good sign. The fever must’ve broken. At least for now.
Having just witnessed Jess go through this, he knew it wasn’t likely gone for good. Dried off and wearing a pair of dark-gray boxers, he found her leaning over the kitchen counter eating a blueberry Pop-Tart. “Breakfast of champions,” he said.
“Pop-Tarts make me happy,” she said around a bite. “Want some?”
He looked her over from pigtails to short-shorts. He wanted a bite, all right. “Ugh, no. Thanks, though. Happiness is all yours.”
She chuckled. “Go upstairs and take the bed for the day. The more you sleep, the less aware you’ll be of how shitty you feel.”
He frowned. “Don’t wanna leave you alone.”
Jess rolled her eyes. “You’ll be right upstairs.”
“Fucking hate this,” he said. She nodded, no doubt thinking he meant being sick when what he really meant was not being able to do the job he was here to do—watching over her. Goddamn, he hated giving in to weakness, but the sooner he got better, the sooner he’d have his head back in the game. Finally, he nodded. “All right. Call me if you need me.”
Chapter 8
Jess reached her hand into the Doritos bag only to come up empty. She looked inside the foil. Annnd, yup, she’d polished off the whole thing over the course of the day. Oops.
She was going straight to caloric hell for that.
So worth it.
Besides, she hadn’t eaten for the better part of three days, so noshing on the crispy nacho cheese goodness of Doritos was her way of celebrating not dying of the fever from hell.
Speaking of which…
Her gaze drifted to the loft. She hadn’t heard from Ike since he’d called down for more medicine around four. It was now pushing ten thirty.
Jess turned off the TV and cleaned up her mess. In the bathroom, she washed the neon orange off her fingers and brushed her teeth for good measure. And then she went up to check on Ike, meds, water, a wet cloth, and his cell phone in hand—it had buzzed incoming messages all evening.
When she settled on the bed’s edge, his eyes popped open, bleary and unfocused. “Hey,” she said. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve just gone ass over handlebars and eaten some major asphalt,” he rasped, rubbing his hands over his head. “Think it’s getting worse again.”
“Drugs,” she said, handing over the pill bottle. He swallowed them down.
“What time is it?” he asked.
“Going on eleven. Thought you might want to check your messages,” she said. “Phone went off a few times.”
On a groan, Ike pushed himself up and worked his fingers over the screen. “Shit,” he bit out.
Dread curled into Jess’s belly. “What happened?”