I brought a blanket onto the couch and turned on the TV, hoping that if I got lost in it, I could forget about my stomachache for a few seconds. It was almost 10AM when my cousin, Cam, knocked on the door. I knew he was coming because he had texted me when he was on his way. I called for him to come in when he knocked, but he was already in the process of letting himself in—I could hear the sound of the door opening.
I saw as he came around the corner. "Mom sent this," he said, holding up a bag I knew was packed with food. "Aunt Kathy told her you were sick." He regarded me cautiously as he crossed my living room headed for the kitchen. "What, do you have the flu or something?"
I shook my head, staring dazedly in his general direction. "It's my stomach," I said. "One of Wynn's roommates cooked breakfast for us." I trailed off before adding, "Either that or the seafood we had the night before."
"You think it's food poisoning?" he asked.
I nodded even though there was no way for me to be sure.
He held up a box that he had just taken from the bag. "She sent popsicles," he said. "I'm putting these in the freezer."
"Thank you," I said. "And tell your mom thanks."
"I will," he said, closing my fridge door. "Did you throw up?" he asked, leaning on the counter and staring at me from across two rooms.
I nodded. "Not since six o'clock this morning, but about twenty times before that."
"The worst is probably over, then," he said.
"I breathed a humorless laugh. "Let's hope so," I said. "I'm not sure how much I have left in me."
He clapped his hands together with the confidence of a coach. "You'll be feeling better in no time," he said. He came out of the kitchen but stopped before he got to the front door. "Do you need me to do anything while I’m here? You want me to hand you one of those popsicles or anything?"
I shook my head and pulled the covers up to my chin. "No thanks," I said. "Just tell your mama thank you for me."
Cam waved and smiled on his way out.
It was roughly five minutes later when there came another knock on my door. The first thing that came to mind was that Cam left something in my house. I expected that the sound of my door opening would follow soon after the knocks, but it didn't. There came another set of knocks.
"Come in!" I yelled since I did not feel like getting up. My voice wasn't very strong, and I was almost certain the person at the door couldn't hear me. I was correct in that assumption because a few seconds later, there was a third set of knocks. I groaned, thinking it was so rude of anyone to come over when I felt like this. I figured if I just lay there and stayed quiet, they would go away. I almost did that, but curiosity got the best of me, even in my horrible condition. Any part of my family would have just walked in the door if they saw my car was in the driveway.
I opened the door to find someone walking down my front steps. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard the sound of the door, and my heart skipped a beat when I realized it was Jacob.
He was literally the last person I expected to see there. Maybe someone like Mike Tyson would have shocked me more, but I was honestly shocked to see Jacob. I had no time to pay attention to my own shock or the butterflies in my stomach because a wave of nausea hit me. I closed my eyes, letting the worst of it pass.
"Are you okay?" I heard him ask. I also heard the sounds of his footsteps coming up the steps toward me.
I was in the middle of saying, "I'm fine," when I opened my eyes to find that he was standing a few feet in front of me, holding the stool from the other night.
In spite of being sick I wanted to smile at the sight of him and that stool, but I didn't let myself. I spent the last three days feeling angry that I was infatuated with someone who could care less about me.
"You need to leave," I said, much the same way he said to me a few nights before.
I had brought my blanket with me, and I shrugged, adjusting it on my shoulders as I stared at him with a completely serious look on my face.
He shot me a confused, concerned expression. "Are you okay?" he asked, setting the stool down in front of him.
I shook my head. "Don't set it down," I said. "I want you to pick it up, turn around, and go back the way you came." It felt oddly triumphant to say the same things to him that he had said to me, and because of not feeling well, I was able to do it with a convincingly straight face.
"Alex, are you feeling okay?" he asked.
"No, I'm not, Jacob. I'm sick as a dog. I was up puking all night, and the last thing I need is for you to come over here, smelling good and bringing stools you made when you were fifteen. I don't want it. I am in no mood to have my heart trampled by you again."
That last part might have come out a little more dramatic than I intended, but I didn't really have enough energy to care. He took a step toward me instead of away. "Can I come in if I promise not to trample anything?"
I shook my head with a serious expression as I stepped back inside, letting the screen door close between us. Jacob reached out to stop it from closing, holding it open with one hand while he picked up the stool with the other. "Please," he said. "Just for a minute."
Chapter 12
I stared at Jacob's angelic face, wondering why in the world he wanted to come into my house when I just told him I was sick.
"I'm sorry I made you go the other night," he said, in a rare vulnerable tone. "I've waited three days to bring this over here to you." He lifted the stool, which drew my eye to it.
"I'm not taking that," I said.
My stomach was still cramping, so I paused to let an especially bad wave pass. Jacob reached out and touched my shoulder. "Let's go inside," he said, reasonably. He gently pushed his way inside, balancing the stool in one hand as he turned me with the other. "I won't stay if you don't want me to," he said, following me into my living room. "I'll just help you get settled in."
I sickly sauntered back to my spot on the couch, and fell onto it, not caring a bit that I probably looked like a hot mess. I reminded myself that it shouldn't matter because I was mad at him, anyway. I closed my eyes, feeling a bit like I was on a ship that was tossing about at sea.
"Do you have a heating pad?" I heard Jacob say. It seemed like he was standing close to me, but I didn't open my eyes.
"For what?" I asked, deliriously.
"For your stomach," he said. "It might help."
"I don't have a heating pad," I said.
"I'm gonna go get you one," he said. "I'll be right back. Don't lock the door behind me even if you're mad. The heat's gonna make you feel better."
"I'll just call my mom to bring me one," I said.
"Why when I'm right here?" he asked.
I felt his hand come down on my forehead. I was startled by it, and I opened my eyes as I flinched. Jacob was sitting on my coffee table regarding me with a sweet half smile. I gave him a tired smile as I closed my eyes again. He kept his hand on my head, using his thumb to stroke my hair.
"I'll just go get it so you don't have to call your mom. I have one at my house from when I injured my shoulder. It'll take me five minutes."
"I'm gonna lock the door behind you," I said. It was obviously an empty promise, and I delivered it weakly.
"No you're not," he said. "You're gonna stay right here and wait for me to get back. It won't be a miracle or anything, but it'll help."
I smiled at him without opening my eyes. "Thank you," I said.
With that, Jacob stood and headed for the door. I peeked at him while he was walking away and smiled inwardly at how I was comforted by the thought of him coming back.
"I'll be right back," he yelled without looking back as he opened the door. I glanced around the room once he was gone and saw the stool sitting along the wall. It wasn't the place I would end up putting it, but I loved having it in my house, and I probably wouldn't beg him too hard to take it back. Even through the sickness, I felt happy. I remembered the way he'd been staring at me when he had his hand on my head, and I experienced a f
eeling of genuine gladness because I knew he cared. I could see it in his eyes.
I might have briefly fallen asleep, because it felt like Jacob was gone for all of three seconds before he got back. I thought he had forgotten something and come back in, but I could see that he had a heating pad rolled up in his hand as he made his way to me. He found the nearest outlet, turned on the heating pad, and sat on the edge of the coffee table, holding it.
"I'm gonna lift up your blanket so I can put this under there," he said.
I had the blanket draped over my shoulders like a hospital gown that closed in the front, and Jacob was poised to lift up one side. "Thank you for bringing this," I said, lifting my arms to allow him to hand me the flexible, square pad.
"Can I stay, for a little while, Alex?" he asked, touching my forehead at my hairline again.
I nodded. I agreed because I wanted him to and I knew if I told him to leave, this time he would. He stood up and went down the hall like he owned the place, and I didn't say anything to stop him. I liked the way he looked in my house, even in my out-of-it state of mind.
He sat down on the coffee table holding a wet washcloth. "Wipe your face with this," he said, handing it to me.
I took it from him and used it to wipe my face. The warm water felt so good that I did my neck and arms while I was at it. "You're amazing," I said sleepily as I handed him the washcloth.
He took it and went back to the bathroom to put it away.
"Sit up for a second," he said when he got back into the living room. "I want to sit on the couch with you. You can put your head in my lap."
"I'm not gonna be much company," I warned.
"I'm not expecting you to entertain me, Alex. I'm just gonna sit here and watch TV while you get some sleep. Will the TV bother you?"
I shook my head as I sat up to make room for Jacob on my couch. He positioned some pillows where I'd be comfortable, and I fell onto his lap, feeling like I had hit the lottery of Sickland. If you're gonna be miserable, at least do it in style. I smiled at my own delirious thoughts as I settled into my lottery winnings.
"What are you smiling about?" he asked.
"That I like being sick if it winds me up on your lap."
"If it winds you up here?" he asked, sounding amused by my choice of words.
I peeked up at him since I knew he was smiling, but I didn't make it in time—it had already faded. "Well, I don't like you being sick," he said. "You scared me to death when I opened your door."
"By how I looked, or that I tried to make you leave?"
"Both, I guess."
"Because I was planning on making you leave, even if I was well."
"Thanks," he said sarcastically.
"You deserved it," I said.
There was a pause before he said, "I know."
He started rubbing my head with his fingertips again, which made me sigh. "It's starting to get warm," I said snuggling into a comfortable position. My arm was out of the blanket, and Jacob placed his free hand on top of it. It was the most comfortable I'd been in the last 24 hours, and I was so thankful he was there.
"I'm sorry I made you leave like that the other night," he said. "It wasn't because I didn't want you to be there."
I smiled weakly, keeping my eyes closed. "You don't have to explain," I said.
"I was not expecting to be okay with hanging out with anybody," he said rubbing my head.
"You're okay with Cole," I said.
He hesitated before saying, "It's not really the same thing, Alex."
I peeked up at him because I wanted to see his facial expression. He was staring down at me.
"It's not the same thing," he repeated.
I sighed and reached up to grab his hand, which was resting on my head. I guided it down so his palm was cupped around my cheek. I held it there, feeling like I had the best sleeping arrangement ever. "I'm probably gonna close my eyes for a minute," I said, sleepily. "The remote's right there."
"I see it," he said. "Just get some rest. I don't have anywhere to go."
I woke up to Jacob shaking my arm.
"Someone just walked in," he whispered.
I had no idea where I was at first, so I sat up, feeling disoriented. I adjusted to face Jacob, squinting at him while trying to figure everything out.
"Who's this?" I heard my mom's voice say.
I glanced toward the door to find her standing there, holding two grocery bags and wearing a concerned expression.
"My name is Jacob Fox," I heard Jacob say from beside me. I felt the couch move as he stood up to greet my mother.
She made no move to shake Jacob's hand or otherwise greet him. "Did you know he was here?" my mom asked, looking at me. She wore an impassive expression as if she was ready to call the cops.
"Of course I did. He just came over. He was sitting here while I tried to sleep for a second."
"Well, I thought you might be sleeping," she said. "I would have come over earlier, but I figured you needed to rest. I was trying to be quiet when I came in, but you were sitting up on the couch. Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I'm okay, Mom. I'm actually better. I think my stomach's feeling better. I think I might have gotten a little nap."
"You got about four hours," Jacob said, causing Mom and I both to look at him.
"Four hours?" I asked, in utter disbelief. "What time is it?"
"It's two-thirty," my mom said. "Did you know he was here, Alex?"
I let out a humorless laugh as I rubbed my face. "Yeah, I knew he was here, mom. His name's Jacob. He brought me a heating pad for my stomach." I turned to look at him. "I think it worked," I said, sleepily. "I'm feeling a lot better."
He gave me an almost imperceptible smile that melted my heart. "The sleep probably helped."
I smiled back at him.
"Excuse me, how do you two know each other?" my mom asked.
"He bought that house down the street," I said.
"When I talked to you this morning, you didn't mention having your friend over," my mom said, still acting skeptical about his presence.
"I didn't know he was coming," I said. "We're friends," I said, trying to say whatever it took to make her stop freaking out. "It's not the first time we've met. We hung out a few times before this—like that night when we went froggin' with Cole."
She nodded as if comforted by the reference, but I could tell she wasn't delighted with him being there.
I felt like I needed to further explain so she'd relax already. "He came by to bring the stool I bought from him, and he saw that I was sick. He brought me a heating pad, and I'm glad he did because it helped."
"I guess I'll be going," Jacob said. I couldn’t blame him since my mom wasn't necessarily rolling out the red carpet for him. She was seriously looking at him like he might have taken advantage of me while I slept.
"He's staying," I said. I turned to look at him. "Can you stay a little while longer?" I asked with my best hopeful expression.
"I'll be here now," my mom said.
"And so will he," I said. "If he can."
"I'm gonna go grab something to eat while you and your mom catch up," Jacob said. "I can stop by later, maybe."
"I want you to stay now, if you can. Mom's got a bunch of groceries, so you can just eat here." I paused and smiled at him. "Thank you for skipping lunch so you could sit with me." I focused on my mother who had just started heading to the kitchen with her bags. "He skipped his lunch so he could sit with me," I said, loudly as I flopped back onto the couch. "And he brought me a heating pad that made me feel better. He's my new friend, and I wanted y'all to meet each other anyway. Can you please make him a sandwich or something?"
"Oh, no, please don't do that," Jacob said, extending his hand to tell her to stop. "I'll go pick something up while you two catch up." He shifted to look at me when he said, "I'll come back a little later."
"Stay," my mom said from the kitchen. "The least I could do is make you a sandwich after you skipped your lunch
to sit with her."
Jacob looked at me as if gauging the situation, and I smiled. "You can go if you need to," I said. "But I want you to stay." I put the back of my hand to my mouth as if to tell him a secret. "And my mom's harmless," I whispered. "I slept through our whole visit," I added, as an extra argument for him to hang out a little longer.
"I slept a little, too," he said.
I patted the seat next to me, and Jacob sat down.
"I don't really do moms," he said, glancing at me with a concerned expression.
"She's just my mom," I said as if that should solve everything.
"I'm trying to maintain a reputation here," he said. "She's wary and wants to avoid me just like I was trying for."
"First of all, you're not trying for that anymore… I thought we already established that. And second, she was wary at first, but she warmed up to you in about two seconds." I gestured toward the kitchen. "She's in there making you a sandwich right now.
"I don't want her to make me a sandwich, though."
"Why not? Aren't you hungry?"
"Yeah."
"Do you like sandwiches?" He smiled, knowing where I was leading with my questions. His smile was still barely there, but I loved the sight of it so much that I reached out to put my hand on his face. I just couldn't stop myself. He let me hold it there until my mom yelled from the kitchen to see if he liked mayo, at which point, he pulled back, just enough to cause my hand to fall. He told my mom he wasn't picky and that she could make the sandwich however she usually did.
Chapter 13
"I'll bring that to the truck," Jacob said as I pulled the heating pad out from under the blanket, unearthing myself at the same time. It felt amazing to shrug out of that warm cocoon. I smiled, feeling somewhat human again. I was still sore and weak, but it was so much better than before I fell asleep.
I rolled the heating pad the same way Jacob had it when he came in, wrapping the cord around it before handing it to him. I could tell he was reluctant about sticking around, and I felt bad for pushing him. "It's okay if you have to leave," I whispered. "I don't want you to, but I'd understand."
Loved Bayou (Martin Family Book 1) Page 8
