which he could clearly afford, but likely doesn’t have.
Though I shouldn’t, I sink down on the end of his bed and toe off my flats. I’m shocked they’re still on my feet, honestly. His bed is heavenly, and if it didn’t also smell a bit like the sick, sweaty Gavin I’ve become acquainted with, I’d be making my own blanket fort.
I make a mental list of what I need while trying to google something that isn’t going to have national security banging down my door. Because the best thing I can think of to search is “how to move a dead body.” I’m sure there are answers to that somewhere, maybe Reddit? But exactly no one is searching how to move someone who is sick and passed out on the living room floor.
But an idea comes to me as I consider whether or not to strip his bed and wash the sheets. It’s not going to be easy, but I think I know exactly how I’m going to attempt to drag Gavin’s limp body across the house to his bed.
Chapter Ten
Zoey
My plan works. And by that, I mean that I’m able to get Gavin to the bedroom. Getting him in bed is another thing altogether. But my makeshift human sling made from his top sheet worked really well combined with his floors. I have an all-new appreciation for hardwood. I may have stroked them and given them a little kiss when I finally had managed to get Gavin as far as his bedroom. Not like anyone’s going to know. And he won’t know why he has a headache tomorrow since he didn’t wake up when his head bumped the steps again on the trickiest part of my plan, which was getting him out of the sunken living area.
He’s still out. Which concerns me for his fever.
Sitting next to him on the floor, I dial Nancy’s number, hoping to get Patty on the phone again. She answers on the third ring, her voice warm and reminding me so much of Nancy’s, but a little lower and a little sweeter.
“Hey, this is Zoey again.”
“Hello, Zoey! Did you manage to find Gavin?”
I eye the half-dressed, sweat-slick man lying beside me on the floor. “I did.”
“How’s he doing?”
He jerks a little in his sleep, muttering something, and without even thinking about it, I rest my hand on his forearm until he settles again, the lines on his forehead smoothing out.
“Not great. He’s got a high fever and passed out. I wondered if you could give me a little advice. How long did Nancy’s fever last?”
“It broke not too long after I arrived. But she was disoriented and confused—maybe a little delirious. It’s a fast bug, but quite intense. Just keep Gavin taking pain relievers every three to six hours. Don’t let him be stubborn and fight you on that either.”
I smile at the hint of scolding in her voice. I can hear how much she cares about him. It would be dangerous to my heart if I hadn’t already realized how out of my league he was. Being nice to his mom and two other older ladies who aren’t even blood relations? Yeah, Gavin is just too much.
I agree to keep Patty apprised on how Gavin is doing, and I swear before we hang up, I hear Nancy shout something about not doing anything she wouldn’t do. She must be feeling better.
Sighing, I hang up the phone and look down at Gavin. “We’ve got to get you medicated and in bed. Any suggestions on how to do that?”
I could make him a pallet on the floor, but I would feel a lot better if I could get him in bed. He’s going to have to wake up at least a little for this to work. While I’m trying to figure that out, I strip the bed and replace the sheets with a new set I find in the bathroom linen closet. Everything is folded neatly, and I have to wonder if this is Gavin’s doing, or if he has someone who keeps his house looking so orderly.
I have to step over his body as I’m tucking in the sheets, trying to make the corners perfect. Not only because I like them that way, but because I suspect he does too. It feels wrong to put his sweaty, ripe body into these clean, cool sheets, but there’s no way I could put him back as it was. And it’s not like I’m going to put