Page 12 of Hutch (Minnesota Raptors #2)

Daisy

The weekend went by in a haze and then on Monday, I woke up still feeling all icky so I took myself to the student medical center.

I got antibiotics and went back to bed. Missing classes wasn’t ideal, but it was necessary.

I was just too sick to go. The cold found its way into my chest and I’ve been hacking up a lung since Saturday night.

All I’ve really been doing is sleeping. I have managed to get through my classes today and my lab without causing everyone in the room to think I’m trying to infect them with Covid or something.

My job interview is tomorrow afternoon so I’m hoping these antibiotics start working and I can get through it without sneezing or coughing my head off.

The interview is thanks to Christa and I’m praying I get the job.

It would take some of the stress off me.

I’m going to start searching for scholarships so I won’t be so strapped for cash next year.

I’m a straight A student so there has to be a few I can find.

One of the girls told me Hutch came by to check on me yesterday, but I don’t remember if I said anything or not.

I literally just slept all day. Honestly, it was sweet, but I have no desire to go anywhere near a relationship or a casual situation.

I just want to focus on school and graduating. I don’t have time for anything else.

My phone buzzes and I look at it as I sit on my bed.

I really should block her number, but I’m always afraid if I do, something bad will happen to her.

At least if she leaves a voicemail, I know she’s alive.

Not that I plan on ever answering any of them, but still, she’s my mother.

My brother blocked her number years ago, but Nana loved her.

She always spoke with her. I can at least make sure she has an answering machine to talk to if not me.

It goes to voicemail and I toss the phone on the bed, looking through my book bag for my meds.

After taking the amoxicillin, I down the prescribed dose of cough syrup so I might be able to eat without coughing and puking like I did Saturday night.

While I appreciated the soup, I did not appreciate the puke fest later that night.

I should go downstairs and cook, but I don’t have the energy.

I could go back to sleep and just snooze straight through the rest of the day.

But I know I need to eat something or I’ll end up sick to my stomach.

Groaning, I get up and look through the small stash of goodies I have.

A granola bar will at least get me through until I feel up to cooking.

I swear I haven’t been this sick since Homecoming my sophomore year in high school.

I miss Nana making me homemade chicken noodle soup.

We never really had a lot of money, but when me or my brother got sick, that’s what we’d all eat.

Making that would only make me miss her more, though, so it’s probably good I don’t feel like it.

Munching on the granola bar, I pull out my laptop and go over my notes for my biology exam tomorrow.

Biology was always my strong suit. People told me all through high school I should study medicine because I was so good at biology and chemistry, but that’s not what I want to do.

I want to try and help addicts and their families because of what we went through.

That feels more meaningful and impactful to me.

“Knock, knock!” Hutch opens my door without waiting for me to tell him to come in. He looks all cheerful and puppy dog happy today. He’s in a pair of jeans and a team hoodie.

“I was studying.”

“Did you eat yet?”

“I had a granola bar.”

“That’s not food.”

“It is when you’re trying to catch up on everything you missed.”

He waltzes in and glares at me. “You’re not going to get better if you don’t eat.”

“I’ll find something later.”

“Nope. I’ll cook something for you.”

“You can cook?”

“I can use a microwave.”

“Uh, no thanks. I don’t do microwave dinners. I’ll make myself something in a bit.”

“I’ll order food…”

“No. I’m done with takeout. I prefer home cooked meals. I’ll make my own food.”

“Then let’s go downstairs and you can cook yourself dinner.” He crosses his arms like he’ll stand there all day until I do exactly that.

“You’re a pain, you know that?”

He grins. “I’ve been called worse.”

Closing my laptop, I grumble but get up. I was going to go find food soon anyway. Might as well do it now and get him out of my hair. I don’t know why he has this need to feed me. I eat enough. Mostly.

I head to the cabinet I’d bought to hold my pantry items. It was easier to buy a cabinet at Walmart then to go downstairs and find the guys ate it all while I was asleep or in class. The question is what to make? I need to go shopping.

“What?” He comes over and looks inside.

“I need to go shopping.”

“Then let’s go shopping.”

“I don’t feel like going shopping.”

“Then tell me what you want and I’ll go get it.”

“No, I don’t want to impose.”

“Woman, let me get you groceries. I’m the reason you’re sick, so let me do this. Please.”

“I suppose you are going to want to eat too?”

“I haven’t had dinner yet, so yeah.”

Sighing, I go downstairs to see what’s in the freezer. It doesn’t yield much outside of frozen pizzas, chicken nuggets, and bagel bites. These people have no idea of nutrition.

“What are you in the mood for?” I ask when I come up with no ideas.

“I have to eat healthy, so…”

“Hmm…” I tap my chin as I think. “Let’s do tacos.”

“Tacos? That’s healthy?”

“If you do it right, yes. We won’t do anything greasy or heavy. Let’s do chicken and lean ground beef or turkey.”

I go over to the junk drawer and pull out the pad of paper and a pen to start writing down ingredients. The only thing I can’t make myself is the shells and the tortillas. Well, technically I could, but it requires a lot of work.

“Let me get you some money…”

He’s shaking his head before I can finish. “If you’re doing the cooking, then I’m buying the groceries.”

“Who’s cooking?” one of the football players ask as he comes through the door followed by several more guys.

“Uh…”

They look so hopeful.

“I’m making tacos.”

One of them pumps their fist in the air. “My favorite food.”

“Food?” Three of the hockey guys come in, my roommates trailing behind them.

“Daisy’s making tacos.”

“And if you want to eat, then you pitch in on the groceries,” Hutch says and holds out his hand while giving me the list back. “Might need to make some adjustments.”

I’m not really up for this, but I’m stuck, so I take it back and start over, quadrupling what I’d originally put on it.

“When I say cheese, I don’t mean cheese in the packages. Look for the blocks of cheese. If they’re small, get a lot of them.”

“Blocks?” Hutch frowns. “If I have questions, can I send you a photo?”

“Just ask someone in the store, they’ll help you.”

“Dylan, Mitch, you’re with me. We’re going shopping.”

Dylan and the football guy both groan but follow Hutch out the door. Jenny comes through the door as they go out. “Oh, Daisy! Are you feeling better?”

“She’s cooking,” Cara says, “so she must feel better.”

Jenny frowns and come over to where I’m standing by the island. “Are you feeling better?”

“I don’t think I’m dying, so that’s an improvement.”

“You get roped into cooking?”

“I was only going to make myself something to eat and then Hutch came over and then one thing turned into another and everyone started talking about tacos and…” I throw my hands up.

“If you’re not up to it, I’ll make the tacos. I mean, I just have to cook the meat and dump taco sauce into the pans right? Shredded lettuce and cheese comes in packages, so it’s not hard.”

“Ew, no. I don’t use store bought sauces.”

“You make them from scratch?”

“That and guac.”

Her eyebrows widen. “Really?”

“Yeah. My nana was on a special diet that was bland, so I learned how to make it taste good with spices. Store bought stuff, at least to me, is either too sweet or too bitter. I prefer to make things myself.”

“I grew up on canned food and sauces from a jar.” One of the hockey guys wander over. “Single parent home. My mom died when I was nine so Dad took over. To survive, we went to canned food. It was at least edible.”

“I’m sorry about your mom.”

He shrugs. “It was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt.”

He gives me a half smile. “True. I’m TJ. I play center, third line.”

“No idea what that means.”

“She’s new to hockey,” Jenny explains. “She’s from West Virginia and they don’t have hockey there.”

“What about football?” Another of the guys comes over and plops down on the bar stool.

“Who doesn’t have football?” I ask dryly and go back to the fridge to take stock of what I need. “Uh, Jenny, can you call Dylan and tell him to add lettuce to the list? I forgot it.”

“How many bags do you need?”

“Don’t get bags. Get four lettuce heads. We’ll shred it ourselves. I know you have a grater. I saw it in the cabinet the first day I cooked in here.”

“Can you cook?” TJ asks, an eyebrow arched.

“Yeah, my nana taught me.”

“Ohh, grandma’s cooking!” Two more guys have come into the kitchen. One of them looks vaguely familiar. “Best kind. I miss my grandma’s cooking.”

“That’s Collin and Carson. They’re both on the team.”

“You don’t remember me from statistics?” Collin pouts. “I’m hurt.”

“Sorry.” He sits with Hutch. That’s why he looked familiar.

He shrugs. “I’ll just have to work hard to make myself memorable.”

“What are you two doing here?” Jenny starts looking through the cabinets for containers we can use to put everything in as we chop and shred things.

“Hutch said he was coming over to see Daisy and I wanted to hang with my bro and my new bestie.”

“New bestie?”

“You, Daisy Mae.” He winks. “If you’re going to be around, then we’re going to be besties.”

“I’m not going to be hanging around.”

“Uh huh.” He looks at me like it’s a done deal. “What can we help with?”