went down.
I guess it all worked out. I have Apple’s medicine along with some other things the pamphlet attached to her script mentioned she might need. Quincy is wise not to say anything when he starts hauling bags from the backseat. But I don’t miss his raised eyebrow when he sees the cool-mist humidifier.
“What?” I snap, catching a can of chicken noodle soup that rolls out of the bag and onto the floorboard.
“Nothing, Brother.”
I shovel some more shit that escaped back into a bag. Without meeting his gaze, I apologize by way of explanation. “It helps with breathing.”
He shrugs. “Not my business.”
“Glad to hear it.”
He follows me inside and through the main room. I don’t acknowledge the curious stares from my Brothers. I head straight to my room and tell Quincy to leave the bags on the floor outside my door. I’m gathering the last few from the hall when I see Jinx headed my way. I pause and stare at him—knowing if I don’t hear what he has to say, he’ll just knock on the door. If he wakes Apple, then I’ll really be pissed.
“Can I do something?” he asks, stopping several feet away.
“No.”
He smirks. “You at least gonna tell me what’s wrong with her?”
“She’s sick.”
“Well if you need me….”
“I won’t.” I step inside and close the door. I can hear the asshole’s chuckle on the other side.
I check on Apple and she’s still in the same position she was when I left. Her breathing sounds like shit and her body still shivers under the covers. I don’t know why they let her leave the hospital. Knowing her, she probably protested staying.
Stubborn girl.
I plug in the humidifier then put everything but the thermometer, her medicine and a bottle of Gatorade in the closet. Using the light in the bathroom, I read the instructions on her prescriptions and shake out the correct amount of pills.
Sitting on the side of the bed, I place the thermometer to her forehead. It reads almost instantly—102.2.
Shit.
I shake her gently to wake her. When she makes a noise of protest, I slide my arm around her shoulders and sit her up. Her head falls to my chest. Her body trembles and the heat of it burns me even through her clothes.
“Come on, sweetheart. Take these then you can go right back to sleep.” I put the pills to her mouth, and she opens. I hold the Gatorade to her lips for her to sip. She whimpers in pain as she swallows, and the sound breaks my fucking heart.
“Stay.”
The one worded plea is so desperate, there’s no way I could deny her. Even if I wanted to. But when I kick off my boots, slide under the covers, pull her to my chest and hold her, it’s not because she asked. It’s not because she’s sick. I do it because it’s exactly what the fuck I want to do.
Thirteen
APPLE
I don’t know what day it is.
The room stays dark, so I’m not sure when it’s morning or night.
Time is measured by when I wake up, and when I fall asleep.
Bouncer is always here when I rouse with pills in hand and a cool bottle of liquid I can’t taste. He helps me to the bathroom. Carries me back to bed. Tucks me in. Holds me until I fall asleep. Then the process repeats itself over and over.
Today is different.
When I wake up, I’m not cold. I’m covered in sweat. The covers are kicked to the end of the bed. I’m thirsty and hungry. But most importantly, I’m alone.
Where is Bouncer?
Did he leave?
Is he gone for good?
The feeling of loneliness doesn’t settle well with me.
Before I do something stupid, like cry, I force myself to a sitting position and swing my legs over the side of the bed. When I feel balanced enough to stand, I ease myself up and take small steps to the bathroom.
I’m stiff and sore—a result of lying in bed for so long. I’m winded by the time I make it to the bathroom. A small cough turns into a coughing fit that ends with me hacking up some nasty shit that I’m thankful Bouncer isn’t here to witness. I’m no doctor, but I know enough to understand that this is a good sign. The infection in my lungs is breaking up. Even if it is super disgusting.
I stand at the sink and turn the cold water on, splashing it on my face and rinsing my mouth. I feel so sticky and gross. I