Dylan

by Jo Raven

  “Shouldn’t we wait for Tyler?”

  “He’ll be here in a minute. He doesn’t live far.”

  “I want to take Dylan to my doctor. She’s very good.”

  “Fair enough.” He leans over Dylan, puts an arm under him and pulls him up. “Come on, big guy.”

  Dylan’s face pales as he swings his legs off the sofa and sits up. He blinks owlishly. “Where?”

  “Let’s get you into the car. You can do it. It’s not far.”

  “Tessa,” Dylan whispers, and I take his hand again.

  “I’m here.”

  He groans when Rafe pulls him upright. The last of the color leaves his face, and I hurry to his side, afraid he’ll fall. Rafe steadies him, and I wrap my arm around Dylan’s back.

  Dylan looks down at me, his eyes unfocused. “I’ve lost …”

  “What have you lost?” I tug on him to move, and we start walking toward the door.

  “I lost time.” He licks his cracked lips. “With you.”

  My throat closes up completely. I tighten my hold around him and hide my face in his muscled shoulder. “We have all the time in the world, Dyl. Just get well.”

  ***

  Tyler, Erin and Jax arrive just as we’re ready to leave. Tyler’s expression is grave, his dark eyes filled with concern as he leans into the car to pat Dylan’s arm.

  “You’ll be fine, Dylan.”

  “My brothers,” Dylan whispers.

  “Erin and I will look over your brothers, man. You concentrate on getting better.”

  Jax is jumping around, a miniature of Tyler, and Erin grabs him just before he runs in front of a car speeding down the road.

  “Hey, Tessa.” She smiles at me as she hefts Jax in her arms, but her gaze is somber.

  I fasten Dylan’s seatbelt, and he lifts a hand to my face, strokes my cheek. “My Tess…” he whispers.

  The gesture, the words almost undo me. I can feel tears burning behind my brow. “I’m right here. See? I haven’t run away.”

  “No,” he says. “You haven’t.” In spite of the fever, in his eyes I see clarity and determination. “I was wrong. About many things. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. We’ll be fine.”

  I shut the passenger door and straighten.

  Erin is watching us, her small mouth tight. When I walk around to the driver’s seat, she begins, “Tessa, you shouldn’t—”

  “Shouldn’t what? Care for him?” I snap. Oh God, I’m falling apart. I rub my face. “You gave Tyler a second chance. Why shouldn’t I give Dylan one?”

  “Tess.” Erin steps closer, lifting her hand. “What I meant to say was, you shouldn’t trust in anyone but yourself. We’ve all been through doubt and even despair, but love won out. You love him, and I think maybe he loves you, too.”

  I wasn’t expecting this. I nod, biting my lip.

  “Thanks for coming,” I mutter and let her draw me into a one-armed hug, the other full of a squirming Jax. “I really appreciate it. Take care of Dylan’s brothers. We’ll be back as soon as possible.”

  “Don’t worry. Poor kiddos. We’ll keep them busy.” She gives me one last parting pat on the back and pulls away. “Go take care of your man.”

  I smile at her and sit behind the wheel. I wait for Rafe to cram his big frame into the back seat, wave at Tyler, Erin and Jax, who’s waving back enthusiastically, and set out for the doctor’s office.

  ***

  “There seems to be no infection,” the nice lady doctor says. “Could be just one of those viruses that go around these days. Especially if there are young children in the house.”

  “I think it might be Lyme disease,” I say from my perch on a plastic chair in the room corner. Rafe is standing by the desk, head down, arms folded over his chest.

  “Why would you think that?” the doctor asks, her red lips pursed.

  “His little brother was diagnosed with Lyme disease a couple weeks back. And Dylan said his joints hurt.”

  “He said that?” The doctor turns her attention back to Dylan, who’s lying on the narrow examination table, bare-chested and shivering, his swirling tattoos the only vibrant color in the room. I’m surprised she doesn’t seem fazed by all that inked, muscled flesh on display.

  As for me, I’m torn between staying where I am seated, out of the way, and ignoring the doctor’s presence to go sit on the bed, by his side.

  “Yes. Joint aches, and he’s been constantly tired for weeks now. Also gets light-headed a lot, but I guess this could be the fever…” God, how long has he been feverish and I didn’t notice?

  “But you saw no rash on him. No red bull’s-eye rash on any part of his body?”

  “No, I…” I glance at Dylan, but he doesn’t seem to hear our conversation, his eyes closed. Shudders shake his tall frame. “Haven’t seen one.”

  The doctor frowns. “Not so important. In a great number of cases, there is no characteristic rash. Has he spent time outdoors?”

  “The garden. His brother probably got it like that, and Dylan was always with him.”

  “Okay. Well, only one way to know for sure. We need to do some lab tests to identify antibodies to the bacteria. If the tests come back positive, we must check the organs to make sure they haven’t suffered, then administer antibiotics as soon as possible.”

  Dylan whispers something, and I strain to hear, but I can’t. The doctor leans closer, then she straightens and smiles at him.

  “Yes, these tests are expensive, but they’re deemed ‘medically reasonable’ and as such are covered by Medicaid,” she says kindly, “if you were worried.”

  The doctor gives Dylan his sweater back, and I get up to help him dress. His teeth are chattering, and he’s clumsy with the fever. He doesn’t fight me when I lift his arms to pull on the sleeves.

  “Need help, Tessa?” Rafe calls, and I shake my head as I tug on the hem of his sweater and straighten it.

  Dylan glances up at me, and that same determination fills his blue eyes, like it had in the car. His mouth quirks in a faint smile. “Tess.”

  I kiss his cheek, feeling the heat coming off him in waves, and sit beside him.

  “I’ll just need to draw some blood for the tests,” the doctor says and returns with a syringe and a fresh needle still in its package.

  “And then I can go home?” Dylan asks faintly. “My brothers...”

  The doctor’s smile turns sweet, and her eyes crinkle at the corners. “Yes, then you can go back to your brothers, but if your fever doesn’t drop, then you’ll have to go to the hospital.”

  Dylan nods and lets her swab the inside of his elbow, draw enough blood to fill a small vial and slap a Band-Aid on the tiny wound.

  “We’ll get you started on antibiotics right away,” the doctor says. “The sooner you start the better. Meanwhile, we’ll have the results from the first test and know more.”

  She writes a prescription, rips it off her pad, then looks at Dylan and me sitting on the examination table. After a moment of hesitation, she gives the prescription to Rafe. “Make sure he doesn’t miss any. If it is Lyme disease, it’s very important that we beat it before it does any damage. The rest of the drugs is to bring the fever down.”

  Rafe takes the piece of paper, nodding gravely, and I help Dylan stand. He’s weaving on his feet, but even when Rafe comes up to his other side and steadies him, he won’t let go of me.

  Together we help him out and into the car. We pass by a pharmacy to get the medicine, and then finally head back home.

  Home. I’ve never thought of my apartment like that. Not even my parents’ penthouse in Chicago ever felt that way. But Dylan’s small house in the overgrown yard with his cute little brothers… Yeah, it definitely feels like home to me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dylan

  There’s a blurriness to the world. I’m aware I’m lying on my side, but I don’t know where. I see walls, but then the dimensions twist. The colors bleed into each other. Faces approach me so
metimes, mouths opening and closing, producing sounds, but I don’t understand. People, faces, events—it’s all mixed up. Time jumps. I dream and wake up and dream again.

  I’m cold. So cold I think I’ll shiver my teeth out. My head hurts like it’s about to explode. My eyes burn like fire. It’s impossible to get comfortable on the bed when I’m freezing to death, but I can’t muster the energy to move, let alone go look for more blankets.

  I think I see children’s faces, familiar ones, and a feeling of urgency grips me. I should be doing something. What?

  My brothers. Miles and Teo. Who’s taking care of them? I need to make sure they’re okay. I try to sit up but can’t quite make it. Hands push me back.

  ‘Ssh,’ a woman’s voice says. ‘Everything’s okay. Rest.’

  “Miles,” I manage through my chattering teeth. “Teo.”

  ‘They’re okay,’ the woman insists, and I let myself go for a while, lost in jagged shards of images and sounds, dreams or reality.

  ‘His fever has peaked,’ a man’s voice says. ‘If it doesn’t drop, we’ll need to put him under a cold shower.’

  Something cool slides over my forehead, and it feels damn good, easing some of the pain. I try to open my eyes, but my lashes feel crusty and stuck.

  The world lurches. I find myself sitting, and pills are pressed into my mouth, then a glass. Cold water spills down my throat, making me cough and hack.

  Fever’s dropping, the woman’s voice says.

  That’s good news, the man says, and I wonder who he is.

  Both voices sound familiar, though, so I relax. Friends. Family. My body is heavy on the mattress, my head resting on a pillow.

  I’m in a bed. My bed. I feel as if I’m sinking through the mattress, falling down deep, into darkness.

  I think I see Mom. She’s whispering something to me, but I can’t make out the words. Her hand is on my head, stroking my hair, and God, I won’t wanna admit it to anyone, but I’ve missed her so much.

  Yet before I can say anything to her—ask why she left, how she could do it—she’s gone once more, and the darkness thickens.

  When I resurface, my mind is clearer. Slowly, details emerge. The dimness of my bedroom, the closet, photos of the football team on the walls. Was Mom really here?

  No, just a dream. I lift my hand to rub my gummy eyes, and the effort leaves me breathless.

  Fuck. What’s wrong with me? What happened? I can hardly remember how I ended up in bed.

  I should get up. Find my brothers.

  I roll on my back, and the ceiling starts spinning in lazy circles. Dizzy, I close my eyes again.

  When I reopen them, Tessa is there.

  “You’re sick,” she tells me, sitting by my side, holding my hand between hers. She says I was running a high fever, but now I’m better. The antibiotics are working.

  Tessa. She’s here, always here. She’s the only sharp, brightly focused point, the only constant. She gives sense to the nightmarish jumble of images and sounds.

  As I sleep, because sleeping seems to be the only thing I do all day, I think I hear Dad’s voice, and I blink.

  He’s there, standing by my bed, his hair grown shaggy, hanging around his lined face. He’s forty-two, but looks over sixty these days. He scratches at his three-day beard with dirty nails and sighs.

  “Pestilence,” he mutters. “Need to cleanse this house from sin and misfortune. Burn everything. Erase everything, liberate the soul.” He leans closer to me. “I can smell the disease on you. Smell pain and sorrow. I can help you. I can help all of us past the sky gate. Let us be free.”

  I blink once, twice, and he’s gone. “Dad?” I call out, my voice a scratchy whisper. “Dad? Are you there?”

  I carefully push myself into a sitting position. The room tilts sharply, and I grab for something not to fall. “Fuck.”

  “Hey.” Zane appears in my line of vision, tilting together with the room and everything in it. He makes a grab for me and eases me back on the pillows. “What are you doing, fucker? No getting up yet.”

  I figured as much myself. I lie panting, still searching the room with my eyes. “My dad.”

  “What about him?” Zane frowns at me and leans against my closet, arms folded over his chest. He’s wearing a black Deathmoth T-shirt, the white letters showing through his unzipped jacket.

  “Has he been here?”

  His frown deepens. “Here, in this room?” He looks at the door, then back at me. “You were asleep for a couple of hours. I was in the kitchen with Dakota and your brothers. I didn’t see or hear anyone entering the house.”

  I chew on this. Another dream, then.

  I swallow the bitterness welling in my throat and let out a long breath. “If my dad comes home…”

  “Does he have a key?” Zane doesn’t look happy about this.

  Neither am I. “It’s his house, so yeah. If he comes, just take Teo and Miles and leave quickly. Take them someplace safe.”

  “The hell, Dylan. You think he’s dangerous?”

  “I don’t know. Something’s off.”

  “Has he ever threatened you or beaten you? Why would you think he’d do it now?”

  “Dammit, Zane, I don’t know.” My heart is pounding in my throat, in the back of my skull. “Please, man. Just do it.” I close my eyes, the effort of looking up at him too much.

  I don’t care what my dad does with me. The main thing is to keep my brothers safe. And Tessa.

  “Is that so?” Zane asks. “You think we’d go and leave you behind?”

  I frown.

  “Tough, fucker. Not gonna happen. Besides. Your brothers and Tessa would never let us live it down if we let anything happen to you.”

  I swallow hard and open my eyes again, squint up at him. “Didn’t realize I said anything out loud.”

  He chuckles and draws back. “You’ve been talking in your sleep a lot. Sleep, fever coma, whatever. You’ve been saying these things over and over again. About needing to make sure your brothers are all right. About Tessa.”

  Damn. I clench my fingers, grabbing handfuls of blanket, and look past him, at the wall. A flush is trying to make its way up my neck. “Have I now?”

  “Relax. It’s cool.” He grins. “Finally fessed up to Tessa? You’ve been telling everyone how much she means to you, but have you fucking told her? Does she know?”

  “Everyone?” Alarm makes my voice even hoarser. “Who’s everyone?”

  “The guys. We’ve all been around these days, taking shifts. Tyler and Erin, Asher and Audrey, me and Dakota. Rafe. Your neighbors.”

  “And Tessa?” I clear my throat. “Was she here?”

  Maybe that was a dream, too.

  “Fucker.” Zane shakes his head. “She’s been here all day every day, and every night, too. Girl only leaves to go to work and return. Audrey loaned her clothes, ’cuz she hasn’t even been back to her apartment yet. Doesn’t want to leave you alone even for one fucking moment.”

  A grin spreads over my face. It makes my cheeks hurt, as if I haven’t used those muscles in a long while. “She doesn’t, huh?”

  “Smug bastard. That girl’s golden. She loves you. She always has. Question is, are you gonna stay with her this time round, or will you change your mind again?”

  “I’m not gonna change my mind.” I tug on the blanket. “I never have. She was always the one I wanted.”

  “Took you a while to realize that. To get in touch with your feelings and shit. Motherfucker.” He’s smiling, though, so I don’t think he’ll punch me just yet. “You’re lucky you’re still sick, or I’d have kicked your ass seven ways to Sunday already.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I try to find a comfortable position. My joints still hurt.

  “Hey, man, take it easy.” Zane helps me settle on the bed. “You’ve been out of it for three days.”

  Three days. Wow. “I think I remember going to the doctor.”

  “Tests came back positive. Lyme disease. Caught it just in t
ime. Tessa’s the one who suspected it. You owe her one.”

  I shake my head. “No,” I say. “Not just that. I owe her everything.”

  ***

  Voices outside my room wake me up sometime later. I’m lying on my back, buried under my winter quilt and several blankets.

  It’s dark outside my window. My bedside lamp is on, and the faint light stabs my eyeballs.

  “Who’s there?” I call out, my voice rusty.

  Asher pokes his head through the half-open door. “You awake? There’s a football team, and they demand to see you.”

  His dark hair is standing up in crazy spikes. I wonder if Jax, his nephew, has been tugging on it. Random crazy thoughts.

  Wait… Football team? “I’m awake.”

  Ash winks and grins like we just shared a joke—a joke on me, probably—and opens the door wide.

  In pour several guys, talking in loud voices and laughing. They fall quiet when they see me, and I suddenly wonder what I must look like after days lying in bed.

  “Hey, man,” Alonzo says, a tall, black guy who used to be the tailback in the team. I wonder if he’s the quarterback now I’ve left. “Good to see you.”

  “Good to see you, too,” I say truthfully. I haven’t seen the guys in months, and I missed them.

  They stand around the bed a little awkwardly, all big shoulders and long legs, crowding the already cramped space.

  “Coach said you’re coming back to the team,” Jeff, our fullback, a huge blond guy says. “It’s about time. This team sucks without you.”

  Martin cuffs him on the head and chuckles. “Yeah, you have to come back, or we’ll be stuck with Jeff taking the lead.”

  I smile, then their words sink in. “Coach said I’m coming back?”

  “Yeah. He said he got you some funding lined up. You’re starting next semester.” Martin narrows his eyes at me. “Not true?”

  “I… Fuck.” I lick my lips and try to sit up. It feels weird to be lying on my back with all of them standing. Alonzo moves to help me, and that’s a good thing as I seem to have no strength left in me.

  “Of course he’s coming back,” Jeff says. “Why wouldn’t he? He’s the best.”

  Can I go back? My life’s on fucking hold right now, even more so since I fell sick.