Love Me Like I Love You

by Willow Winters

  “One-oh-one.” I show him the thermometer. “Your temp is going up.”

  Chase sighs and runs his hand over the back of his head. “I’ll take more meds and crash. After I fuck you senseless, that is.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “As much as I want to have sex with you, I think we should skip tonight. You’re sick, babe. You need to rest.”

  Chase grumbles but doesn’t protest, and that’s all I need to know he’s feeling worse than he’s letting on. We change into pajamas and get ready for bed. I bring Chase medicine and a glass of water. He takes it and lies down, falling asleep within minutes.

  I’ll ask him about his past another time.

  Chase was still in bed when I left for work Monday morning. Tylenol did nothing to bring down his fever, and he was in more pain than he was letting on. Around noon, he texted to say he was going to his place to get new clothes and would come back and be at my house when I got off work. He said he was feeling worn out and wanted to go back to sleep.

  I didn’t hear from him after that, and the assumption that he was in my bed passed out kept me from worrying. But when I got home around four o’clock and Chase was nowhere to be found, panic set in. I called him three times with no answer. I can’t help my mind going to the worst place, and I get a vision of Chase cold, stiff, and dead on the living room floor of his apartment.

  “Stop,” I say out loud. Most people don’t die young. I feed the cats, throw a load of laundry into the washer, then get in the car and head to The Mill House. I call Chase again, annoyed that he never set up his voicemail. The phone rings and rings and rings, but he doesn’t answer.

  There are a few cars in the parking lot, and Cory, the bartender working tonight waves to me as I cut through the bar, taking the faster route to the stairs. The door to the apartment is locked. I knock, anxiety growing by the second.

  “Oh, uh, hi,” I say when Jax answers the door. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and boxers, and looks like he just woke up. “Is Chase here?”

  “Yeah,” he starts, and I enter the apartment. Empty beer cans and a spilled bag of chips is on the floor by the couch where Jax has been sleeping. “He’s being a pussy and says he’s not feeling well.”

  “Still?”

  “I know, right? Go play nurse and make him feel better. I’ll put on headphones and try not to listen.”

  I pull a face but ignore him, striding through the living room to get to Chase. His bedroom door is shut, and I enter without knocking. The blinds are drawn and there’s a trashcan next to the bed.

  “Chase?”

  He mumbles something incoherent in response. I take off my shoes and get in bed, crawling over to him.

  “Babe, you okay?” The second I touch him, I can tell he still has a fever. A high fever. “You’re burning up!” I exclaim and rip the blankets off him.

  Chase starts to sit up but stops, wincing. He looks at me, blinks a few times, and then shakes his head. “Sierra? When did you get here?”

  “Just now. You’re burning up, Chase. You have a fever.”

  “Yeah.” His eyes flutter and he lies back down.

  My chest tightens. Something is wrong. Really wrong.

  “I think you should go to the doctor. You’re sick.”

  “I’m tired,” he mumbles. “That’s all. Lay down with me and I’ll feel better.”

  “No, you need more than a nap. You don’t own a thermometer, do you?”

  Chase doesn’t respond. His eyes are closed and his breathing is slow. I put my hand on his shoulder and give him a shake. He starts to sit up and winces again, hand going to his stomach.

  “Fuck,” he says hoarsely and reaches for the trashcan. I get it to him just in time for him to throw up. He groans and lays back, hand still on his stomach. “Can you bring me water?”

  “Of course, I’ll get it now.” I take the garbage full of puke out with me, trying hard not to let it gross me out. Chase is really sick right now. He needs me.

  I get water after the trash is cleaned out, and hurry back to the bedroom.

  “Doesn’t sound too good in there,” Jax says, raising his eyebrows.

  “I thought you were putting on headphones.”

  “Nah. I’m not going to get laid anytime soon. I need to get my jollies somewhere.”

  I roll my eyes. “Has he been like this all day?”

  “Like what?”

  “Kind of out of it.”

  “Yeah, he has. I thought he was drunk at first. Then I remembered he didn’t drink.”

  I give Jax a dead stare. “And you didn’t think anything could be seriously wrong?”

  Jax shrugs. “He said he was fine.”

  I shake my head and go back into the bedroom. Chase is huddled in a ball on the bed, with his hand over the right side of his abdomen. He straightens out when he sees me, not wanting to appear weak or let on that anything is actually wrong.

  “Is that where it hurts?” I ask. “The lower right side?”

  “Mostly.”

  “I think you have appendicitis.”

  “I don’t think so.” Chase sips the water. I take the glass from him and make him lay down. Gently, I press my fingers into his stomach, on the right side.

  “It’ll hurt more when I let go,” I warn him. “And that means you need to get this thing taken out.” I move my hand and instantly feel bad for him. “You’ve been feeling sick for over twenty-four hours. We need to go to the hospital. Now,” I say through gritted teeth.

  Chase doesn’t argue, but he doesn’t get up either.

  “Chase Henson,” I say firmly. “Get your ass into the car right now or so help me God I will carry you down those stairs and put you in myself.”

  Chase slowly sits up and nods, looking more and more confused. Certain he’s having emergency surgery as soon as we get to Mercy General, I grab a fresh change of clothes for him and rush out the door.

  “Dude, you look terrible,” Jax says, standing from the couch. His eyes go to me. “Is he okay?”

  I shake my head. “I’m pretty sure his appendix is about ready to burst if it hasn’t already. I’m taking him to the hospital.”

  “I’ll drive,” Jax says. “You should sit with him in the back.”

  “Good idea.”

  Jax grabs his pants from the floor and puts them on, then helps Chase down the stairs. We’re halfway through the parking lot when Chase throws up again. Jax goes back inside for a water bottle and a trash bag to take with us in the car. I gently wipe his face with a tissue, and Chase looks around like he can’t quite figure out what’s happening.

  That’s not a normal symptom of appendicitis. My stomach flip-flops and I grip Chase’s hand, practically dragging him to the car. My fingers shake as I pull the seatbelt over him and click it into place.

  “Sierra,” Chase mumbles. “Where are we going?”

  “The hospital. Close your eyes and try to relax.”

  “Okay.” Chase’s eyes fall shut and his head tilts to the side. Jax is in the driver’s seat seconds later, and I hand him my keys. We speed off, making the hour-long trip in just over forty-five minutes. Chase is admitted right away, and after his blood work comes back, he’s whisked away for surgery, leaving me in the ER waiting room with Jax.

  “We can go up there.” He stands and extends his hand.

  “Where?”

  “The post-op waiting area.”

  I take his hand and let him pull me to my feet. His skin is rough and a quick look lets me know he suffered a nasty burn. The thick scar tissue covers the back of his hand.

  “You sound like you’ve done this before.”

  “I have. And I’ve been through it with Chase before too. He’ll be all right. He’s a tough son of a bitch.”

  I nod and the shock starts to leave me. Everything happened so fast in the ER, and the faces of the doctors and nurses told me everything they didn’t say: getting Chase into surgery and removing his ruptured appendix might not be enough.

  “Why
did Chase have surgery before?” I ask and press a button to get into an elevator.

  “Broke his leg flipping over the handlebars of a four-wheeler. He refused to go to the hospital for a week and the small fracture he got in the fall turned into a nasty break. By the time he got seen the bone had to be reset.”

  “I’ve seen the scar,” I say, recalling the straight surgical line on his thigh. “How long ago was it?”

  “Fuck if I remember,” Jax says, getting a dirty look from the woman who’s in the elevator with us. “Five years ago? Six?”

  “You two have been friends for a long time then, right?”

  “Feels like a lifetime,” Jax jokes.

  I nervously pull on my cat necklace, mind whirling. When Chase said he never stayed anywhere long, I assumed he left everything and everyone behind. We get to the surgical floor and the nerves come back tenfold.

  I can’t lose Chase. I wouldn’t survive it. Sitting in the cold, hospital waiting room, thinking about Chase on the operating table, makes my stomach churn. I close my eyes and get hit with another vision. I’m standing in a graveyard, watching a coffin get lowered into the ground. My heart is inside that coffin, but no one believes me. The dirt falls, burying me deep underground.

  I’ve been through it before.

  “Hey,” Jax whispers, putting his hand on mine. “It’ll be okay.”

  I open my eyes and realize I’m close to hyperventilating. I blink back tears and nod. Jax pats my hand and leans back in his chair. I wrap my arms around myself and stare up at the TV in the corner of the room.

  What feels like hours later, a nurse calls my name. I scramble up and over to her. She gives me a quick rundown—surgery went fine, but the infection was worse than they thought, which was why Chase was so out of it before we came here. He is being moved to the ICU to be treated for sepsis after this. She takes me back to see him, and tears fill my eyes the moment I see him lying in the recovery bed, hooked up to IVs and machines.

  His eyes are closed, and he looks peaceful. The nurse warns me he might wake up totally confused and even combative, saying that’s pretty normal.

  “Chase,” I whisper, putting my hand on his, careful to avoid the IV line. I gently stroke his skin, pressing myself close to the bed to stay out of the nurses’ way as they check the monitors.

  Chase’s eyes flutter open and he starts to sit up. “Sierra,” he mumbles.

  “I’m here. Right here. Don’t sit up, Chase. You just had surgery.”

  His head falls back onto the pillow and a few seconds go by before he opens his eyes again. “Why did I have surgery?”

  “Your appendix burst. You’re pretty sick, babe. You need to rest.” I blink tears back. “But you’re gonna be okay.”

  “Right,” he agrees and twists his hand around, interlacing our fingers. “Sierra?”

  I lean in, straining to hear what he has to say. “Yes?”

  “I think I love you.”

  I don’t try to stop the tears that fall this time. “I think I love you, too.”

  The last time I was in the Intensive Care Unit, Jake died. Slight jitters take over when I step through the doors. Everything is the same. The lighting. The smell. Even the nurses.

  Jake was at the room at the end of the unit, farthest away from the nurses. It didn’t matter by that time. The curtains were drawn around the glass walls. They gave us privacy because that’s all we had left.

  Chase is in the second room, right across from the nurses’ station. The curtains and pulled back, and a nurse is in there now, adjusting tubes and checking on him. He’s awake and looks bored. It’s easy to convince myself that he’s fine and out of the woods. But having an infection turn septic is serious. Very serious.

  Chase looks up, smiling when he sees me. I stay to the side, waiting for the nurse to finish, then go in and hug Chase.

  “I guess you were right,” he says, running his hand through my hair. “I did need to go to the doctor.”

  “Yeah, no shit,” I say back and we laugh. Chase winces slightly. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll be fine. Give me a day or two.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “I think you’ll still be here in a day or two.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “You have a drain in the wound.”

  “It’s turning you on, isn’t it?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Hey baby, want to see my wound drain?”

  I laugh and run my fingers through his hair. “Do you know Josh’s number?” I ask Chase.

  “It’s in my phone. You can get it,” he replies, then tenses.

  “Your phone is at home.”

  “Good.” Chase relaxes, eyes fluttering closed. “Why do you need his number?” he asks a moment later.

  “To let him know what’s going on.”

  “No, he just left the hospital with the boys, remember? I don’t want to make him worry.”

  “That’s really sweet of you, but he needs to know you won’t be at work.”

  “Fuck. Right. I should call him.”

  “I’ll handle it,” I say and continue running my fingers through his hair. Chase closes his eyes again, and within minutes, he’s asleep again. I tuck the blanket around him and slip out, filling Jax in on how Chase is doing, and then going into the hospital lobby to make a few phone calls. I get ahold of my mother first and am surprised by her concern. I have to stop her from getting in the car and coming here right away. Instead, I send her on a mission to get Josh’s cellphone number, and texts it to me in a matter of minutes.

  “Hello?” Josh answers, and I’m so glad he does. I never answer unknown numbers.

  “Hey, Josh, it’s Sierra.”

  “Hey. What’s going on?”

  “I’m at Mercy with Chase. He just has his appendix taken out.”

  “Shit. Is he okay?”

  “He will be. His appendix ruptured and turned septic. He’s in the ICU right now.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “No,” I say quickly. “He doesn’t want you to come. He didn’t even want me to call you and make you worry or take time away from the twins. But I knew you needed to know.”

  “Right. Are you staying there with him? You sure he’s okay? People die from sepsis.”

  “I’m not leaving, and the nurse seemed confident he’s going to recover.” I sit on the bench right outside the entrance doors. Night has fallen, and the city is far from asleep. “He was really out of it when I got to his house this evening, and his fever was high. The ER doctor told me we got here just in time.” Tears fill my eyes and I don’t know why I’m telling this all to Josh. “It was scary.”

  “I’m glad he has you. He’s lucky, you know.”

  “Yeah,” I say and sniffle. “I think I am too.”

  A baby cries in the background. “Call me if anything changes?”

  “I will. Bye, Josh.”

  The crying gets louder, drowning out whatever Josh said. I hang up and call Mrs. Williams, and then call my mom back to make sure she’ll feed the cats. Back inside, I tell Jax to go back home, and he takes a taxi so I have my car. Chase is still sleeping, so I sit in a chair next to his bed, resting my head against the wall. Before I know it, I’m asleep too.

  Chapter 24

  Chase

  There must be some unwritten rule stating that hospitals have to be cold and uncomfortable. I wake up freezing and I’m the one covered up with a blanket. Sierra is curled up in a chair, goose bumps broken out on her arms. Her head is resting on her shoulder as she sleeps.

  Carefully, I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I’m hooked up to so many damn lines it takes a minute just to stand without pulling something lose. I take the blanket and a few steps to Sierra when someone knocks on the door.

  Sierra jerks up, blinking as she looks around the little room, trying to remember what’s going on.

  “Chase?” she asks. “What are you doing?”

  “Good question,” the nurse echoes, standing in the doorwa
y.

  I give Sierra a smirk and hold up the blanket. “I was going to smother you in your sleep.”

  She smiles right back. “I thought we already established blankets don’t make good murder weapons. I’m actually disappointed. We’re in a room full of objects you could use to kill me and you go for the blanket.”

  “That’s my girl.” Aware the nurse is staring at us like we’re crazy—and probably wondering if she should call security—I go to Sierra. “I thought you were cold.”

  “I am, but you shouldn’t be up, right? It’s only been like six hours since your surgery.” She turns to the nurse.

  “Right. Well, not alone. Getting up and walking is good for you, but with assistance.”

  I roll my eyes and sit back in bed. I’m still tired, and in more pain than I expected. Sierra leaves to use the bathroom while the nurse assesses me. She brings me pain medicine and two extra blankets. I move over as far as I can in bed, making room for Sierra when she returns.

  “I’m not hurting you, am I?” Sierra asks, covering us up. “These beds aren’t made for two.”

  “It feels good having you next to me.”

  “Good, because I’m going to be here with you for the next few days.”

  “Go home. You’ll be bored sitting here. I’m already bored.”

  Sierra shakes her head. “I’m not leaving.”

  “I could be here for a week.”

  “I’m staying right here for the next twenty-four hours at least.” She tips her head my way, and I see tears in her eyes. “I need to make sure you’re okay,” she whispers. And then it dawns on me just how hard this must have been on her…and how hard it still is. Going to the hospital to see my nephews created too much anxiety, and here I am in the ICU, with IV antibiotics, trying to fight off a serious infection. When I really think about it, it even freaks me out.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I promise and take her hand, moving the IV tubing out of the way.

  “You better not.” She lets her head fall against my shoulder, and I feel a weird sense of peace, despite the discomfort I’m in.

  “Sierra?”