Beyond Just Us (Remington Medical Book 4): A Single Parent Marriage of Convenience Romance

by Kimberly Kincaid

  And if she wasn’t careful, she was going to fall for her husband.

  Rolling over, Tess reached out, wanting to tell Declan she was there, she wouldn’t leave him. But his body was cold—why was he so cold?—and she fumbled through the darkness, fighting off panic.

  “Tess…” His voice came from far away, as if he was under water, too, and it occurred to Tess that she must be dreaming. The last thing she remembered was falling asleep in Declan’s arms. So, this had to be a dream. But every part of her hurt, suddenly—razor-blade pain in her throat as it worked over a swallow, that turned into a series of coughs that rattled her rib cage, an ache that penetrated her muscles and went straight to the bone. She wanted to fall back to sleep so she could wake up from this nightmare. She’d never had one so vivid before. But then, Declan’s freezing cold hands were on her, pulling away the blankets and propping her up as she coughed some more, and Tess understood that this wasn’t a dream.

  “Cold!” she yelped, immediately regretful for how hard the single word ravaged her throat.

  “I’m not cold, love. You’re burnin’ up. Come, let me have a look at you, now.” He rolled something over her forehead, across to her throbbing temple, and Tess vaguely recognized it as Jackson’s temporal thermometer, which he must have gotten up to grab when she’d first reached out for him.

  “Damn it,” Declan muttered. “Can you tell me what hurts?”

  Tess wanted to laugh, but couldn’t muster the energy. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a commuter train,” was what her brain meant for her to say, but what came out was a weak, “All of it.” Now that she was waking more fully, she was keenly aware of how deep-down horrible she felt. Every part of her ached, including her earlobes and her pinkie toes, and she was moderately certain that each of her teeth was wearing its own little sweater and her tongue had been replaced by a dry, dirty sponge.

  Her mind drifted back to the elderly patient she’d diagnosed with the flu two days ago, and shit. Just because she took extreme precautions didn’t mean the occupational hazard of getting sick didn’t come back to bite her square on the ass every once in a while.

  But the flu? Ugh, it was the worst. She wasn’t going to recover for days, and she was going to be sick as hell until she did.

  Tess whimpered, but Declan swept her hair from her face. “I’m right here, darlin’. Don’t worry about a thing.”

  A bolt of panic exploded in Tess’s gut, as fierce as it was sudden. “Jackson?” she croaked, her voice cracking and raw as the word emerged from her throat. How could she be so out of it?

  “Still sleepin’,” Declan assured her. “It’s early yet. Barely five.”

  Okay, Tess thought—or, at least, she tried to think. But it was so goddamn cold in her room, and all she wanted to do was burrow under her comforter and sleep. She needed to get up. She needed to call the hospital and cover her shift. She needed to take care of her son, to monitor Declan’s meds and his glucose levels.

  But then Declan was there, rubbing her back and covering her with the blanket she’d so desperately wanted, telling her that everything would be okay, and instead of getting up, Tess trusted him and drifted off to sleep.

  Declan padded down the hall, taking care not to wake either Tess or Jackson. She’d fallen back to sleep more easily than he’d expected, although, a 103-degree fever tended to do that to a person. Running a hand over his skull trim, he forced his thoughts to fall in line. He couldn’t think of the way seeing Tess so sick had ripped at his gut, how, when the warrior-fierce woman he was coming to know so well had actually whimpered in his arms, he’d have done anything to ease her pain. He’d had enough basic first aid in the Air Force to know a fever that high meant either a virus or an infection of some kind, but beyond that, he didn’t know how to help make her well.

  But he knew who did.

  Taking the cell phone he’d had the presence of mind to grab from the nightstand before he’d skinned into a pair of dark gray sweatpants and headed to the kitchen, Declan scrolled through his contacts list until he saw Connor’s smiling face, tapping the icon even though the digital clock on the microwave read an obscene zero-five-twenty.

  “What’s the matter?” Connor asked, and relief pulsed through Declan that his friend didn’t waste time with any pleasantries.

  “Tess is sick.” He rattled off her temperature—which made Connor curse—along with the few other symptoms he’d been able to see. “I don’t know if she realized it, but she was shiverin’ the whole time I tried to talk to her.”

  “It sounds like the flu,” Connor said. “Is the little dude sick at all?”

  “Other than his ears? No. And his temperature and mood were nearly back to normal last night when he fell asleep.”

  Connor, whose voice said he was fully awake now, made a noise of approval. “Okay, that’s good. How about you? Do you feel sick at all?”

  “No,” Declan said. Not that he’d leave Tess’s side even if he did, but… “I feel fine, just like yesterday. And Gupta worked me up nine ways to Sunday.”

  “Let’s hope that holds. First thing we need to do is find out what we’re dealing with for sure, though. Hang on for a sec, let me pull Charlie in on this call.” As if Connor could sense Declan’s WTF over the phone, he added, “I can help Tess in a lot of ways, but I’m not an M.D. Sometimes, you need the big guns.”

  Declan didn’t hesitate to agree, and a minute later, Connor had added Charlie to the line. “Hey, Declan,” she said, any traces of sleepiness that might’ve lingered in her voice lost to her practicality. “Can you give me a rundown on Tess’s symptoms?”

  Grateful to have both Charlie and Connor’s expert ears, Declan relayed Tess’s temperature and everything else he’d been able to gather just from their brief exchange, ending with, “She’s got to be exhausted. She fell right back ta sleep.”

  “Okay, that’s not the worst thing,” Charlie said. “I think Connor’s right. It sounds like the flu. Let her rest for now. I’ll be there in about a half an hour to take a look at her, just to rule out anything serious. Until then, do yourself a favor and hit everything Tess might’ve touched in the last day or so with disinfectant wipes. And if she wakes up, try to get her to drink some juice and take ibuprofen to chip away at that fever.”

  “Copy that,” Declan said.

  By the time Charlie arrived thirty minutes later with a small bag on her shoulder, Tess’s condo had been sanitized within an inch of its life, and Declan was still on high alert.

  “Thanks for coming,” Dec said, ushering her over the threshold. “I feel bad, wakin’ ya like this, but…”

  Charlie shook her head and smiled, a few scraps of her copper hair falling out of the loose knot she’d pinned to the top of her head. “Don’t. Tess needs help, and you got it for her. The good news is the flu isn’t serious in most cases. But let’s make sure that’s what we’re dealing with, then we’ll figure out what to do next.”

  They moved down the hallway. Tess was still curled up in bed, and Declan tried to ease her into wakefulness by starting with the light in the bathroom.

  “Tess, love, you need ta wake up.” He smoothed a hand over her hair, the heat rolling off of her sending a jab directly to his solar plexus. “Charlie’s come ta take a look at you.”

  Tess stirred, then groaned. “M’sick. Everything hurts.”

  “I bet,” Charlie said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Declan says your temperature is pretty impressive. I’m going to take it again, okay?”

  Shifting the black nylon bag she’d brought with her from her shoulder to her lap, she opened the thing to reveal a temporal thermometer. “Bag of tricks,” Charlie said to Declan. “Comes in handy from time to time. Ooof, girl.” She turned her attention to the thermometer, which had beeped out its result. “103.3. No wonder you feel like shit. Have you had any flu patients in the ED in the last four days?”

  “Mmmmhm.” Tess turned her face in toward the crook of her arm and coughed for a full t
en seconds, then started to shiver. “Head hurts. Muscles hurt. All hurts.”

  Declan’s heart twisted behind his T-shirt, and he looked at Charlie. “What d’ya need to help her?”

  Charlie maneuvered through a basic exam, listening to Tess’s chest and looking at her throat and ears with a flashlight Declan had procured from the junk drawer in Tess’s kitchen. She managed to get Tess to drink some orange juice and to take some ibuprofen along with it, helping her friend to the bathroom before settling her back in bed.

  “Well, the bad news is, we can’t tell for sure that this is the flu without running a nasal swab at the lab, which requires a trip in to the clinic or the ED.” At Tess’s whimper, Charlie added, “The good news is, I’m more than ninety percent sure that’s what it is, even without the test.”

  “Me, too,” Tess managed.

  Charlie looked at Tess. “So, you know the drill. Rest—for real—fluids, also for real, ibuprofen for the aches and fever. It’s viral, so it has to run its course,” she said, likely for Declan’s benefit. “I can call in some Tamiflu since you’re within 24 hours of onset. It should lessen the severity of the symptoms, but if things get worse or that fever doesn’t break in 48 hours, you need to call me immediately.” This, she did aim at Declan.

  Tess coughed, then sniffled before squeezing her eyes shut. “Jackson. Work. I have to—”

  “You have ta rest. Let us figure out the rest.”

  Whether it was the quiet, no-bullshit way Declan had delivered the words, or the fact that she probably just felt that unwell, he couldn’t be sure. But something made Tess capitulate.

  “Okay.”

  After he was satisfied that Tess had what she needed to be comfortable, Declan followed Charlie back down the hallway and into the kitchen, where her first order of business was to thoroughly wash her hands.

  “I suppose it’s probably useless to tell you that you’re at a high risk of exposure and you should find somewhere else to stay for the next two or three days,” Charlie said over her shoulder, and ah, but she was a smart one.

  “It is,” Declan confirmed. “I’m not leavin’ her.”

  Charlie raised a brow. “You’re at a potentially higher risk because of your pre-existing health condition.”

  Nope. He wasn’t budging. He’d been as intimate with Tess as it got over the past ten hours. Even if he hadn’t, he would not leave her. “As far as risk of exposure goes, I’m quite sure that ship has sailed,” Declan said, and Charlie surprised him with a soft laugh as she turned to look at him.

  “Fair enough. You’ll still need to take a lot of precautions. Aside from the obvious no-kissing, no-bed-sharing stuff, be careful with her dishes. Run everything through the dishwasher, and wash your hands far more than you think you need to. And those sanitizing wipes”—she pointed to the container of them Declan had left on the counter—“are your best freaking friend right now. Got it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Declan could live with that.

  “I also have to do my due diligence as a doctor and as Tess’s best friend and strongly suggest that you take extra care to eat well, hydrate, and have someone come monitor your meds and glucose levels while she can’t.”

  Ah, hell. She was right. It was smart, plus, Tess would be furious if he took care of her, but not himself, as well. “I’ll ask Connor to do it.”

  “Now for the harder part,” Charlie said, crossing her arms in a way that told Dec he wasn’t going to like whatever came next. “Jackson’s immune system is still weakened because he’s fighting off that ear infection. I know you said he’s better,” she added, before Declan could remind her. “But it’s been less than 24 hours. If he stays here, even if he doesn’t come into contact with Tess, he could still get sick.”

  Declan bit out a silent curse. He didn’t want the boy to leave. He’d grown so used to having Jackson close, and he knew Tess would miss him terribly. But Charlie was right. Tess was in no shape to take care of him even without the risk of getting him sick. Close was dangerous, at least for the next couple of days.

  “Alright. What did you have in mind?”

  Charlie smiled. “Well, first, I want to check him out to make sure he doesn’t have a fever. But I have a spare car seat already in my car. Between me and Parker and Connor and Harlow, we can manage him for the next couple of days, especially since he’ll probably be good to go back to childcare tomorrow.”

  “That sounds like a plan,” Declan said. “I don’t s’pose there’s anyone better to mind the lad than a bunch of doctors who love him.”

  “And I don’t suppose there’s anyone better to take care of Tess than her husband, who’s clearly concerned for her welfare,” Charlie said, reaching out to squeeze his forearm.

  And as Charlie turned to pack up some baby food and a few things she’d need to ensure Jackson’s comfort over the next couple of days, Declan realized that what had started out as temporary wasn’t just starting to feel all too real.

  It felt all too right.

  23

  Declan felt like the living embodiment of Mr. Fucking Clean. Tess had slept away most of the morning, waking just long enough to brush her teeth, drink some of the Gatorade he’d picked up at the pharmacy along with her prescription, then take said prescription before curling back up beneath the blankets. Deciding that the scrub-down he’d given her condo in the wee hours of the morning as he’d waited for Charlie wasn’t thorough enough, Declan had set his sights on a deep dive. Midway through mopping the kitchen floor, his cell phone chirped from where he’d left it on the breakfast bar. The ringtone marked it as a medical reminder, and Declan dutifully leaned the mop against the nook where Jackson’s high chair stood and went to check his blood sugar levels, then take all six pills worth of his midday dose of trial meds.

  And here, he’d managed to slip nearly a whole day under his belt before he’d had to think of what Dr. Gupta had said at yesterday’s appointment. Along with what she hadn’t.

  The trial wasn’t working.

  Yet, he heard Tess say in his head, in that headstrong, hopeful way of hers. She’d been so certain that this trial would be the thing to save him, to tide him over until a kidney could be found. But Declan had never been one for hope. He knew firsthand how unforgivingly it could crush a person when the fragile strings holding it together snapped.

  He’d begged his mother not to die, yet she had. He’d sworn he’d do anything not to be sick enough to be discharged from the Air Force, and yet he had to leave with no goodbyes.

  Just as he’d held out hope that his sister, his best friend, the person who’d seen past his rough edges and gruff nature to still love the boy beneath, would set aside her anger and see reason.

  Know this. If you go, you’ll be dead ta me…you’ll never hear a word from me again…

  Saoirse had never seen reason. And Declan had never seen her again.

  Oh, hell, but this was pointless, he thought, putting the medication back in the high-up cupboard that was far out of Jackson’s reach. He’d never really thought the trial would work, but it was his only option. He’d ride it out until he couldn’t. In the meantime, being with Tess and Jackson, and reconnecting with Connor and his group of friends at Remington Memorial made him forget all about Dr. Gupta’s frown, and insulin needles, and being alone. And so he’d take it.

  He belonged here, so here he’d stay for as long as he could.

  After pausing for a quick handful of almonds to keep his blood sugar levels nice and steady, Declan reclaimed the mop, working his way out of the kitchen and leaving the now-sparkling floor to dry. He didn’t want to vacuum while Tess slept, but he could toss the throw blankets she usually draped over the back of the couch into the laundry, just in case.

  Declan got most of the way across the main living space when a harsh electronic sound shattered the silence that had settled over the condo. His heart vaulted into his throat as he realized Tess must have a landline, and he swung a lightning-fast glance around the condo u
ntil he caught sight of the thing, tucked discretely away on a side table. He should let the call go to voicemail, he knew—he hadn’t even known she had the phone, so it wasn’t as if he’d ever given the number out to receive calls on it himself. But Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, that ringer could unearth the dead, and Tess needed to rest.

  Declan grabbed the receiver, noting the “cellular caller” label on the caller ID. Eh, probably one of those highly annoying telemarketers trying to get her to switch her carrier or get a new credit card she didn’t want or need.

  He roughed his voice up just enough that whoever it was would accept his “not interested” on the first go. “Tess Michaelson’s phone.”

  The pause that followed was brief and deafening. “I beg your pardon,” came a disdainful female voice. “To whom am I speaking?”

  Talk about a shite sales tactic. The back of Declan’s neck prickled. “This is her husband. Who the hell are you?”

  “Her mother.”

  Well, bollocks.

  “Charming,” said Tess’s mother, and damn it, he’d let that slip out loud.

  “Apologies,” Declan muttered. Just because he wasn’t inclined to like the woman didn’t give him license to be rude. Not yet, anyway. “You caught me off guard, is all.”

  “I could say the same for you.” Mrs. Jameson’s tone grew frost with every word. “I wasn’t aware that Tess had remarried.”

  Declan’s molars came together with a clack. Christ, Tess hadn’t been embellishing about her mother’s snobbery. Although he was tempted to tell the woman that yes, he and Tess were entirely and happily married, fuck you very much, he kept quiet. The last thing Tess would want was for him to go all sharing-is-caring with details about her personal life, even if they had gotten married for the sheer convenience of it.

  “It’s recent,” he said, going with what was obvious.