Page 58 of Wanting My Husband
Nerves are eating at me now that he isn’t answering, so I try the handle and it twists, opening for me. I storm inside, ready to scold him for not locking his doors once again. He claims he’s afraid of this house, yet he leaves the house wide open so anyone can come and go as they please.
“Chad?” I call out as I look around, but don’t see himanywhere. The back door is wide open though. Maybe he’s out back setting something up for the donkeys?
A groan pulls my attention back into the living room, and my heart rate spikes even higher when I realize the pile of blankets on the couch is actually Chad, bundled under them with his eyes closed. His face is flushed, and his brown hair looks damp where a few of the strands are sticking to his forehead, far from the casually styled look he normally goes for.
I drop down to kneel beside him, checking his forehead with the back of my hand to confirm that even though he appears to be shivering under multiple blankets, he’s burning up.
“Chad?” I try again, shaking his shoulder a bit.
Relief floods me as his eyes flutter open, unfocused at first, but eventually his gaze locks on me, and he weakly asks, “John?”
“Hey. How are you feeling?” He coughs in response. “Have you taken any medicine?”
He shakes his head and coughs again. “Don’t have any yet. What are you doing here? I don’t want you to get sick too.”
“I don’t get sick,” I say dismissively as I stand.
“You don’t understand, John. I think this might really be the end. I’ve never been this sick before…” He trails off into another coughing fit, and yeah, it doesn’t sound great, but I think we can try some Tylenol before rushing him to the hospital.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell him.
“Just go, John. Save yourself. I updated my will so you’ll get everything when I’m gone. Take care of Jack and Jenny.” He closes his eyes again and snuggles into the blankets even more.
I freeze at his comment. Did he actually update his will? Or is it the fever talking? That’d be extreme, even for him.
His eyes fly open, and they lock on me. “Oh fuck. I didn’t mean that. I shouldn’t joke about dying with you. I’m so sorry.” He coughs again.
“It’s fine, Princess, I’m used to your dramatics.” I shake myhead and try to focus. Chad clearly needs my help right now, so I quickly make my way outside, and luckily, I have meds in the first-aid kit in the saddlebag on my bike. I grab what I need and return with a glass of water and some cold medicine.
“Sit up so you can take these,” I instruct, helping him when he doesn’t move fast enough for my liking.
He swallows the offered pills and some extra water after more encouragement from me, then gazes up at me adoringly. “Is this real? Are you really here taking care of me? Or am I dreaming?”
I snort a laugh. “This is real. You should feel better soon.”
“You really are my knight in faded leather. My big, tattooed biker baddie,” he says dreamily as he closes his eyes again. “All mine.”
I don’t know how to respond to that, so I don’t. I busy myself with putting food out for his needy pet donkeys and refilling their water. Since I don’t really have anything better to do, I end up washing the dishes in his sink and fixing a loose cabinet door in his kitchen. I don’t feel right leaving Chad like this, but I want to let him rest a bit more before I wake him up for food.
He only has the one couch he’s lying on in the living room, but there’s a recliner that Phil left in the corner, so I sit there and pull out my phone. This definitely wasn’t how I expected tonight to go, but I feel better here, knowing that he’s okay.
I check my emails and hit like on the picture Liam sent of him and Blake on a boat. The back of my neck prickles like someone’s watching me, so I look up expectantly at Chad, but he’s asleep, snoring softly. Maybe this house is creepy. No wonder Phil was happy to up and move south on a moment’s notice.
I nearly jump out of my seat when something wet nudges my elbow. One of the fucking donkeys is resting its head against my chair after sneaking up behind me. I didn’t even realize they could be that quiet.
“What do you want?” I hiss, but it nudges my arm again. “I already fed you. Leave me alone.” It makes a loud braying sound, and I swear it’s glaring at me for attention. “Well, don’t wake him up,” I scold.
The animal tips its chin up as if to say, “It’ll be your fault if you don’t pet me.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
Chad got “pets” that are as needy as he is.
“Fine,” I hiss. “Just this once because your dad is sick.”Your dad?What the fuck is Chad doing to me? I sound like Blake. I give in and scratch its head, hoping it’ll quiet down if it’s getting the attention it’s apparently so desperate for.
I should’ve known better though, because that makes the other one jealous or something, and before I know what’s happening, I’m petting them both. One on each side.
“Now I know I’m dreaming,” Chad’s husky voice startles me. “Are you actually petting my babies?”
