Page 34 of Hollywood King
Thirteen
Heath
A moan woke me up.It had been a long time since a noise like that dragged me from sleep. I rolled into Cathy, pulling her closer, hoping my response would let us get further than we did the night before. When my skin met hers, I jerked back. Her body burned hot. I opened my eyes and looked at her flushed face. The same heat tracked down her neck, and a sheen of sweat bloomed at her hairline and temples, and yet she dragged the covers up to her chin and shivered.
Not good.
I climbed out of bed, and she didn’t even notice as she resettled into a fitful sleep. Fevers, chills, sweats. None of those were good things. I hadn’t been around anyone sick since the last time she’d been in the hospital when we were teenagers. But I remembered the signs well.
I looked around the table trying to remember where she put her phone and then dove out the door toward my office. Her clutch sat on the edge of desk, her phone neatly tucked alongside a lip gloss. Thankful she didn’t lock it, I opened it and scrolled to the one name I didn’t want to call, and yet, with no other options, I punched his name and waited while the phone rang.
He answered with a sleepy, “Cathy?”
“This is Heath.”
“Heath? Why are you calling me from Cathy’s phone?”
No time to explain the particulars, I went straight to the point. “Cathy is at my house, and she has a high fever and chills. What should I do to help her?”
Muffled sounds cut through the line as he answered. “What’s your address?”
I rattled it off, staring back toward my room as if I could mentally fix her with my will.
“I’ll be there in five.”
He hit the buzzer at my gate four and a half minutes later. I let him in and stood at the open door for him to enter. He wore a ripped pair of sweat pants, a t-shirt, flip flops, and a medical bag in one hand. Beach Ken, Cathy used to call this look.
“Where is she?” he asked, charging in the door.
I pointed toward my bedroom, and he raced to the back, me a step behind. When he entered he skirted the bed, put the bag on the floor, and knelt next to her. “Cathy, can you hear me? Wake up?”
He pulled a device from his bag, ran it across her forehead, and peered down at the screen. “104. That’s not good.”
He opened the bag further and started to dig. “Do you have salt and ice?”
I hovered at the end of the bed. “Yes, of course.”
“Fill some bags with ice and a little salt and bring them back.”
I raced to do his bidding. Taking orders from Eddy, my how I’ve fallen. But for her, I’d do anything, including listen to that asshole.
I filled several bags and carried them heaped into my arms. He took them one by one, placed one on either side of her neck, one each under her arm pits. When he lifted the hem of her shirt, I protested.
He didn’t look up as he answered. “I have to get the ice to the hot spots on her body to bring down her core temperature. If you want to do this part, fine.”
He extended the pack to me, but I shook my head. He gave me a look and then continued his work, placing one pack over her underwear right at the juncture of her thighs. I wasn’t about to admit we hadn’t had sex yet. So I didn’t feel right touching her that way, especially with her unconscious.
He stood over her, monitoring every twitch she made. I watched him. They’d dated. Why didn’t he seem more torn up about her being in my bed? He didn’t hesitate to help, that had to be the doctor in him, but not even a protest at the sight of his woman, half naked, in another man’s bed.
“Does this happen often?” I broached.
He looked up at me as if coming out of a fog. “Sorry, what?”
“Does she get sick like this often?”
Confusion flashed across his face. “Not that I know of, but I only see her at work. She’s never had a problem there, well, before the other night when she passed out.”
“Only at work? I saw the pictures of you two in that gossip rag.”
