Page 184 of True Blue

I grimace, slowly becoming aware of how disgusting I feel. My hair feels greasy. My mouth tastes horrible. My shirt sticks to my back, and I have no idea how long it’s been since I showered.

Slowly, I sit up in bed and squeak when something pops up from the floor next to me.

Teddy.

His eyes are wide and alarmed as he springs to his knees by the bed. His hair is a mess, sticking up in all directions, his beard longer and unkempt. His eyes are red-rimmed, with dark circles underneath like he hasn’t slept in days.

I can’t stop staring at him as he cradles my cheek, then places the back of his other hand on my forehead.

“Are you okay? Are you dizzy? Do you need the bucket? Your temperature feels much better, I checked last night and you were at 100. Are you feeling⁠—”

“Teddy,” I croak, gently cutting through his panic.

My eyes look to my other side, seeing the large space on the bed he could have slept on.

“You slept on the floor?”

His cheeks go a little pink beneath his beard and he shrugs, like it’s nothing.

“I didn’t want to crowd you.”

Guilt and affection make a dizzying combination in my chest. But all I can really focus on is how gross I feel.

“How long have I been out?”

“About three days,” Teddy says, wincing.

I blink a few times at that. It’s not surprising, given how awful I felt and the combination of being sick and concussed. But three days is a while.

And he stayed. He took care of you, my mind whispers happily.

“You’ve been in and out. I think your fever finally broke… do you remember anything?”

“Bits and pieces,” I say, rubbing at my head when I try to remember. I get flashes of his voice, his green eyes wide and concerned, a cool cloth, and a voice softly singing to me. I give Teddy a smile.

“I feel better,” my voice cracks, and I try to clear my throat. Teddy’s already moving, grabbing an insulated bottle of water, and sitting on the edge of the bed.

He brings the straw to my lips and lets me take a few sips.

“Do you want a bath?” he asks, my hands shaking as I try to hold onto the water bottle.

Teddy just places his hands over mine, steadying the glass and bringing it to my lips.

It feels like heaven in my dry, cotton-mouthed throat, and I have to keep reminding myself to sip, or else it’ll just come back up.

“Please,” I say hoarsely, before going back to sip some more.

My stomach doesn’t feel that empty pang of hunger, so he must have been able to get something in my system during the days I was out.

“If you’re comfortable,” he starts, then looks down for a second before meeting my eyes again, “I can help you. Bathe you, I mean. I don’t mind. But only if you want me to.”

He looks at me then, almost hopeful, like he really wants to take care of me. After days of this, of seeing me like this, he hasn’t left my side. He’s still looking at me like that.

He’s still here.

Affection pushes through the fog in my head.

“Yes, please,” I rasp.