shower onto a cool tepid stream. I walk back into his room as Owen bounces through the door. “Dad.” He smiles excitedly.
Cameron frowns in horror that his son is seeing him like this.
“Dad’s sick, baby. He needs to cool down,” I tell him.
Owen’s face falls as he watches his father shiver in bed.
“Come on, help me get him up.” I grab Cameron’s arm and pull him. “Cam. You need to have a shower and we need to get this temp down,” I urge. “Have you had any medication?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
“I thought you were a doctor.” I frown with a shake of my head. “Where is your medicine cabinet?”
“In the cupboard, downstairs.” He sighs.
I turn to Owen. “Where does Dad keep the band aids?” I ask.
“In the kitchen.”
“Can you show me?”
Owen scoots downstairs and I follow him and retrieve the Tylenol as well as a glass of water.
I return upstairs and force feed them to Cameron, and then get him up and lead him to the bathroom. Shit, I think I’m going to have to take him to emergency. He’s so sick. What kind of virus is this?
“Owie, go and put some cartoons on. We’ll stay here for a while.”
“Yay!” Owen calls as he disappears downstairs and I hear the television turn on in the distance.
I put my hand under the shower and I turn to Cameron and grab his face as I look into his eyes. He’s near delirious. “Cameron, are you alright?” I ask.
He nods.
“Get in the shower.”
He puts his hand out to the shower screen to steady himself on his feet.
Shit, is he going to faint?
“Cameron,” I repeat. “Are you going to fall?”
He drops his head as he tries to stay upright and holds the wall for support.
“In the shower,” I snap. Damn it. I bend and slide his boxer shorts down his legs and lead him into the shower until he’s under the cool water. He stands as he holds the tiles.
“Just stay under there for a while,” I tell him as I fuss around grabbing towels. I would tell him to sit down, but I don’t think I will be able to get him back up.
I take a seat on the edge of the bath as I watch him standing beneath the water.
He’s naked, and for the first time since I’ve known him, completely vulnerable. For twenty minutes, I sit quietly as he stands under the water. I change the sheets on his bed, and eventually, I walk over to the shower and feel his forehead again.
“How do you feel?” I ask as I check his face temp with the backs of my fingers.
“I’m okay,” he answers quietly.
“How long have you been like this?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I woke up last night, throwing up. That’s stopped, but the temperature has gotten higher.”
“Cam.” I shake my head. “You know this is dangerous. Why didn’t you call me?”
He closes his eyes, as though embarrassed. “I’m fine.”
“You are not fine. If I can’t get this temperature down, I’m taking you to hospital.”
He nods as he concedes defeat.
“Come on, back to bed.” I hold a towel out for him and he exits the shower. I wrap him in it and he drops his head to my shoulder in desperate need of comfort.
I close my eyes as I hold him and the sick feeling of protectiveness fills me.
Stop it.
I pull out of his arms and dry him, lead him back to bed, and lie him down. His eyes immediately close.
Gosh, he’s so sick.
I pull the sheet over him and sit on the edge of the bed to watch him for a while. I feel his forehead and his temperature seems to be dropping.
He has a virus, by the looks of it, but he needs some water. He’s dehydrated.
Over the next three hours, I sit with him and give him water every ten minutes as he dozes in and out of a sleepy consciousness.
Who knows what would have happened if I hadn’t checked on him when I did? After I’m positive he’s better and hydrated, I eventually head downstairs. I find Owen on the couch in his underpants, laughing out loud at cartoons and eating ice cream straight from the tub.
I smile to myself, is this what they do in this bachelor pad?
Owen’s eyes rise to me. “Is Dad feeling better?” he asks.
“Yes, he’s sleeping.” I smile and sit down next to him, placing my arm around his shoulders. “We might stay here tonight, though, I think…