Page 13 of A Lonely Road (Spruce Hill #2)
Chapter Eleven
Jake
T hough I was disappointed, I wasn’t particularly surprised when Nora didn’t show up to The Mermaid for a few days. Maybe she just needed time to fortify her defenses.
I decided to give her space the first day, sent a friendly text that went unanswered on the second, and began to worry—soul-deep, heart-pounding worry that seemed a little excessive when I thought about it logically, but which I couldn’t deny—by the third.
When Sam called to ask if I’d done something to make Nora ignore her texts, I was unable to quell the rush of fear pulsing through my veins.
“I haven’t heard from her either,” I admitted. “She doesn’t always come in every day, though. ”
“I’m worried. I asked how she was holding up after the incident with that guy, and she brushed it off like it was no big deal.”
Fuck. It was a big deal and Sam knew it, even if I hadn’t given my family the details on Nora’s reaction during our walk home. What if Nora started having flashbacks and avoiding the restaurant completely?
With the reassurance that I’d check in on her, I hung up with Sam and left The Mermaid immediately.
Thankfully, I’d brought the truck to work, so I could get home quickly to figure out just what the hell was going on.
Nora’s car was parked in the driveway, exactly where it had been for the last few days.
I jogged up the stairs, my gaze catching on a bundle of tiny flowers in front of her door. They lay in a loose clump, withered and dry, shifting in the breeze.
Had she picked them herself and dropped them here? Why wasn’t she answering?
Ignoring the flowers as I stood outside the apartment, I texted her one more time and waited to see if she would answer. When that proved fruitless, I called her phone, though she’d told me how much she hated talking on it. Faint ringing drifted to my ears from inside the apartment.
The sheer curtains were just opaque enough to prevent me from seeing inside, so I knocked lightly at the door, pressing my ear to the glass.
“Nora?” I called, then knocked again, louder this time .
The apartment wasn’t that big; she should have heard me. Unless she was asleep in the middle of the day. Or unless she’d fallen and cracked her head open. Christ, what if I found her lying in a pool of blood?
My heart clenched painfully in my chest. It had been stupid not to try harder to reach her these last few days. Regret and fear warred within me.
“Nora, I’m going to get the spare key from Mr. Jenkins’ house. I’ll be right back.”
Fortunately, Mr. Jenkins had plants that needed watering in his absence and the old man had left me with his house key. The spare apartment key was in one of his desk drawers, in case of emergencies.
This was definitely an emergency.
I jogged to the side door and let myself into the house, fighting down the panic rising at the back of my throat while I rifled through the drawers. When I finally found the key, I sprinted back through the house, across the driveway, and up the stairs.
A twinge of guilt broke through the fog of my anxiety. Nora was an intensely private woman—forcing my way into the apartment felt wrong on a number of levels, but not as wrong as leaving her in there alone, hurt or bleeding or who knew what else.
I leaned my forehead against the door, called out, “Nora, I’m coming in,” and turned the key in the lock .
My gaze traveled frantically across the kitchen, anticipating blood splatters or signs of a struggle, but everything was tidy and undisturbed. That didn’t stop my imagination from running wild. I tossed the key onto the counter and moved to the living room, where I froze.
Nora’s phone was there on the low coffee table, along with a box of tissues, a half-empty mug of tea, and a bottle of cough syrup.
I took another step and located the woman herself, curled up on the loveseat.
All of my breath rushed out in a sigh of relief, until I saw that she was wrapped in a heavy blanket despite the heat of the day, her face ghostly pale except for brightly flushed cheeks that practically glowed in the afternoon sunlight.
“Oh, Christ. Nora? Can you hear me?”
I crouched down beside the loveseat to set a hand gently against her forehead. Her skin was burning hot, searing my palm. As I swore under my breath, wondering what the hell to do, her eyelids lifted drowsily and she blinked up at me, her dark gaze glassy and disoriented.
“Jake?” she whispered, squinting at the brightness of the room as she tried to focus her eyes on me.
“Yeah, it’s me. I’m sorry to barge in on you here, but you weren’t answering your phone. I was afraid you’d fallen or something.”
Gently, I smoothed her hair back from her face and smiled. She was in rough shape, but she was alive and uninjured. I stroked my palm over her fevered skin, silently berating myself for not checking on her sooner.
“I’m okay.”
“I mean this in the nicest possible way, Nora, but you look like hell and you’re burning up. There’s a clinic in town, I think maybe I should take you over there.”
“No!” The hoarse exclamation burst from her lips so quickly it surprised us both. She shook her head, burrowing deeper into her blanket, and mumbled, “No, I’m okay. I don’t need a doctor. Please, Jake, I just want to sleep. I’ll feel better in the morning, I’m sure.”
I studied her for a moment, then nodded.
“Okay. I’m going to carry you to your bed then, all right?
Just relax, I’ve got you,” I murmured as I slid one arm beneath her knees and the other under her back to lift her, blanket and all.
Her eyes drifted closed and didn’t open again even after I laid her on the bed, though she rolled onto her side and curled into a tight ball.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was muffled by the blanket she’d drawn up around her chin. “I couldn’t reach the phone.”
I eased down onto the bed beside her. If she were feeling better, she’d be kicking your ass, I warned myself, but it was no use.
Seeing her like this tore me apart inside.
Even when she was still twitchy around me after first moving in, she’d always been so vibrant, shining like a lantern in the dark.
This Nora seemed more like the faint flicker of a candle flame, weak and vulnerable .
“Nothing to be sorry about,” I said gently. “Can I get you more tea, or some broth maybe? Something for the fever?”
The questions went unanswered, and I realized she’d fallen back asleep.
I could hardly bear to leave her side, but I forced myself to go into the kitchen and rifle through her cupboards, looking for soup but finding little more than dry cereal and packaged snacks.
I drew my phone from my pocket and fired off a text to Sam.
Even if all I could do right now was keep an eye on Nora while she slept, I’d make damn sure I was ready to take care of her properly once she woke up.
An hour later, Sam dropped off several large containers of soup from The Mermaid and an assortment of cold medicine.
The flowers had blown off the porch by the time I met her at the door, and I left Nora’s side only long enough to stick the containers in the fridge and set the medicine options out on the counter.
Then I lay carefully back down on the bed, close but not quite touching her.
It took all of my willpower to resist the urge to gather her into my arms.
Just after midnight, Nora mumbled something that broke through my light doze. I reached out to stroke her hair, noting with relief that the fever didn’t seem to be running quite so high anymore, and she repeated it a bit more clearly.
“You should go. Might get you sick.”
I scoffed. “I’m healthy as a horse, Ms. Cassidy. I’ll pop some extra vitamin C, if it makes you happy, but I’m not leaving until you’re feeling better. Sam dropped off some soup from The Mermaid, do you think you could eat something?”
Though the bedside lamp was on, her eyes looked nearly black in the dim light. “I can try,” she whispered.
Her focus still seemed hazy, but I smiled at her before her eyes drifted closed again, then rolled off the bed, careful not to jar her. When I returned with the soup, I set it on one of the bedside tables and helped her sit up against the pillows.
“This might be easier if you weren’t wrapped up like a burrito,” I said with a grin.
“Blanket burritos are the best thing for illness. Where did you go to med school?” she grumbled.
I laughed, relieved at the return of her wit. “I’ll remember that for the future. Must be a regional thing. Do you need me to feed you?”
“Not if you value your life.” Nora scowled at me as she struggled to withdraw her arms from her wrappings.
I lifted the bowl with one hand and wrapped the other arm around her shoulders for support while she managed to swallow a few spoonfuls of soup.
Though part of me waited for her to send me away so she could wallow in her misery, I rejoiced in the fact that she simply leaned against my shoulder and seemed to take comfort in my presence.
After I set the bowl aside, I helped to tuck the blanket around her body once more and lowered her back down to rest, though I regretted not nestling her into my arms when I had the chance .
“How long have you been sick?” I asked when her eyes didn’t immediately fall closed again. I reached over to lay my palm against her forehead. Her skin still felt heated, but I was confident that the fever had come down at least a few degrees.
Nora blinked a little and I wondered if she even knew what day it was. “I was feeling a little off the morning after I saw you last. It was just a headache at first, so I thought it was probably stress-related. The fever started that night, I think. I woke up shivering a few times.”
“I hate the thought of you here alone and miserable. You could have called me, you know. That’s what friends are for,” I said gently.
She flinched, just slightly, though I didn’t mean it as an admonition or an accusation.
I might not have readily used the word wistful to describe myself, but at that moment, it seemed fitting.
Concern for her flooded my body and I saw her reading my furrowed brow, taking in the downturn of my lips.
“I didn’t want to bother you,” she mumbled.
“I’m guessing you didn’t want to need help. When you’ve survived on your own so long, I imagine it must be pretty hard to ask.”
She didn’t contradict me. After a moment, she whispered, “You’re a good friend, Jake.”
“So are you, Nora. So are you.”
We both fell silent, but her eyelids looked heavy again, those long lashes sweeping drowsily downward before she forced them back up. Her complexion was still deathly pale, but the crimson flush of fever was finally fading.
I decided to risk a swift rejection and reached out to trace a finger over her cheek. Instead of pulling away, she leaned into my touch as I smoothed back the hair at her temple.
“Close your eyes and rest, Nora. I’ll be right here if you need me.”
She didn’t need to be told twice. With my fingers sifting lightly through her hair, she drifted off to sleep.