thing, aren’t ya,” he mumbled as he crawled into the bed. The muscles in his arms and legs began to tremble as he reached for the covers, and after he pulled the blankets up to his chin, he whined, “It’s freezing in here.”
“It’s not cold.” I placed the palm of my hand on his forehead and said, “You’re burning up. We really need to get you to a doctor.”
“No, I just need some sleep,” he argued, barely able to keep his eyes open. “Maybe some aspirin or something. My head is pounding and I hurt everywhere. I feel like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck.”
“I’ll get you something for the fever. It will help with the aches and pains,” I told him as I walked out of the room. When I returned from my apartment a few minutes later with some Tylenol cold medicine, a bottle of Gatorade, and a cold rag, he’d already fallen asleep. He looked so sweet lying there, almost angelic, and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. I knelt down beside him and gently nudged him until his eyes crept open. “You need to take this.”
He lifted up on his elbow and took the medicine, then fell back onto the bed, closing his eyes as I placed the cold rag on his head. He coughed again before saying, “Thanks, Hazel.”
“I’m going to let you sleep. I’ll be back a little later to check on you. I’m going to take your keys with me so I can get back in,” I told him, but he wasn’t listening. He’d already fallen back asleep.
When I got back to the apartment, the kids were getting ready for bed. I went in to check in on Hadley and she immediately asked, “How’s Clutch?”
“He’s pretty sick, but I think he’ll be okay.”
“He’s all alone. Are you going to take care of him?” she asked.
“I’ll do what I can, but Clutch is a big boy. I’m pretty sure he can take care of himself.”
She shook her head. “Not when he’s sick, Livie. Momma always said that men are at their worst when they’re sick.”
I smiled. “Well, she wasn’t wrong about that, so I’ll do what I can to help him.”
Relief washed over her. “Good. He’s going to need you. Maybe you could make him some of your chicken noodle soup.”
“Maybe. Let’s just wait and see how he’s feeling tomorrow.”
After the kids went to bed, I finished cleaning the kitchen and folded another load of laundry. By the time I was done, it was almost midnight. I stared at the wall, wondering if Clutch was doing any better, and finally decided that there was only one way to find out. I crept across the hall and tapped on his door. I didn’t expect him to answer, but I figured it was the polite thing to do. I waited a few seconds, then used his key to open the door. I was a little apprehensive as I stepped inside his apartment. Even though I had a good reason for intruding, I still felt a bit uneasy about walking into a strange man’s home without permission. Ignoring my anxiety, I tiptoed down the hall and into Clutch’s bedroom. I turned on the light as I entered and found him sprawled out over the bed, legs on top of pillows, his head hanging off the side, and his mouth draped wide open. The covers had found their way to the floor and there was no sign of the cold rag I’d placed on his forehead. I stepped closer and put my hand on his forehead to check his fever again, and the minute my palm touched the heat of his skin, I panicked. He was hot, dangerously hot, so I rushed out of the room and headed over to my apartment for a thermometer.
When I returned, I placed my hand on his chest and pushed, trying to get him to wake up long enough for me to take his temperature. Finally, I got him to open his eyes and I said, “Open up. I need to see how high your fever is.”
Thankfully, he didn’t argue and let his mouth fall open. Once I’d placed the end of the thermometer under his tongue, he closed his mouth. While I waited for it to beep, I found the wet rag and placed it back on his forehead. When it was ready, I took the thermometer from his mouth and became immediately concerned when it read