The Hours We Have

chapter twenty-seven

I was too hot. 

Frustrated, I threw my covers off. I heard a yelp and my eyes sprung open. I had totally forgotten about Finley. It was still dark but I realized that my skin was covered in sweat and I immediately began to shiver. I saw Finley's head over the heap of covers. 

"I'm sorry," I whispered to him and pat the covers. He crawled closer and sprawled out next to me once again. I welcomed his body heat and clutched onto him as if my life depended on it. I was going through hot and cold flashes, constantly waking up to extreme one way or another, and I was having a very feverish sleep. 

The next time I woke, Mikeal was by my bed. He was frowning and I tried to clear the haze in my head. I noticed his lips were moving but I couldn't hear a word he said. He reached out and placed the back of his hand on my forehead. I instantly hissed between my teeth and swatted his hand away. It felt like he had touched my feverish skin with the ice and it stung like a thousand bees. 

Finley was still nestled against my side. When Mikeal left my room, Finley lifted his head and then laid it across my stomach. Instantly, my body responded with a curl of nausea. I sprung out of bed and darted into the hallway. I didn't have time to go downstairs so I shoved open the boys' bathroom door and wretched my guts into the toilet. 

From shivering to sweating, when I was sure nothing else would come up, I laid on the cool tiles of the floor. It felt so nice against my skin. I heard the light scratch of claws as Finley came to check on me with a low whine. I didn't have the energy to move. 

"Are you dead?" 

I didn't open my eyes.

"Jordyn?" Their voice drew closer and yet I still couldn't identify them. "Are you okay?" 

I groaned, sounding positively miserable even to myself. Stress was capable of wreaking havoc on the body, causing the immune system to deteriorate itself, and orderly functions die like a snuffed flame. I had been so stressed these past few weeks, sometimes without even realizing it. My appetite had dropped, my sleep was bad, and now I was sick. 

A hand touched my forehead again. I flinched away. Why was their skin so cold? Not even the tiles of the bathroom floor were that cold. I heard them sigh. It didn't sound like Mikeal. Where had he gone anyway? 

Two hands gripped my shoulders and I was rolled onto my back. My eyelids fluttered but remained heavy, and then strong arms slipped underneath my knees and around my back. I found myself incapable of holding my head upright and it rolled back to rest on their bicep while they peeled my pathetic form off the floor. 

For a moment, I felt the weird swaying sensation of them walking and I thought my stomach would curl for the second time, but I was lucky this time and only darkness flitted behind my heavy eyelids. 

My back was lowered onto my bed once more and I managed to peel my eyes open. Ezra was staring down at me with a frown. Finley jumped up beside me and laid down against my leg. Somehow, Mikeal had shown back up in the mix of things, I sluggishly saw a flash of his blue eyes. I couldn't even form words, I was so out of it. 

I passed out after that. 

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A delicious scent pulled me from my feverish dreams. 

I had no recognition of what I had just been dreaming about but my eyes sprung open with a little less effort this time. I blinked a few times, clearing my vision, and I turned my head to spot Julian setting a bowl of soup on my nightstand. When he noticed I was awake, he came closer and sat on the edge of my bed. 

"Hey, how are you feeling?" 

"Like crap," I croaked. 

"You look like crap, too." He commented and when I just barely rolled my eyes, he said, "You were running a fever of one-hundred-and-three this morning." 

My brows furrowed and I looked towards my window, daylight filtering through my curtains. "How long have I been out?" 

Julian looked at his watch. "Nine hours. Your fever broke around noon." He pressed the back of his hand to my forehead. "You feel cooler now." 

"I don't feel delusional," I managed to say with a small smile, a joking tint in my voice. "You can't check me into the psycho ward just yet."  

"You were really out of it," He agreed with a nod of his head. "Mikeal said he came in because he heard your alarm ringing for work--"

"Oh shit, work!" I sat upright and instantly regretted it as my head swam. 

Julian gently pushed me back down by my shoulders. "Chill out," He ordered, "You just broke from a high fever, let your body recover. Mikeal called your work and let them know you were sick." 

"Okay, good." I sank into the comfort of my bed. 

He cleared his throat. "Anyway, then Ezra found you kissing the floor tiles in the bathroom." 

"I was not!" 

"That's exactly how he described it."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "I was not kissing anything." 

"Irrelevant," Julian smirked at me. "But since Ezra is the medical megamind, he had the brainy idea to grab everything out of the freezer and place it in your bed." He laughed a bit at that. "I mean, it worked, but it looked funny." 

"Is that why my sheets are damp?" I rose an eyebrow at him. "Because you guys threw everything from the freezer under my blankets?" 

"You were sweating like a racehorse and then shivering like we threw you out in subzero weather, we didn't know what to do. Warm you up? Keep the fever down?" He shot me a narrowed glance, "I think you should give us more credit, three of us didn't go to medical school you know." 

I cringed. I remembered that, unfortunately, sweating and shivering uncontrollably. But, I had only been teasing him, and he had taken my words seriously. He had a habit of doing that lately and I wondered if it was his way of expressing what worried him. I looked at Julian. "So, I guess I should shower, huh?" 

He crinkled his nose. "Absolutely. It smells like we dragged you out of the sewer." He stood and grabbed the bowl of steaming soup. "But first, I made you chicken noodle soup, and yes, I used your recipe so it should be perfect." 

I smiled. "Thank you." 

He helped me prop myself against my headboard and then he set the bowl into my hands. I relished in the warmth of the soup and it smelled phenomenal. He sat on the end of my bed and laid back with a hand scratching Finley's ears while I slowly ate the soup.

For the first time in a long time, I knew for sure then. 

Some people loved silently because they were afraid of what might happen if the world knew their true feelings, and I was beginning to understand that. Saying those three words was never something I could do with ease either but that didn't mean I didn't love people.

Those people were my brothers.

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Every time I write, I just keep falling in love with Julian's character. 

So, some of these scenes might be a little distant from the reality of having brothers... but the conversations are still pretty accurate, and plus I want to have some character development with these fictional brothers. Forgive me if I seem a little hypocritical? 

Real fact: I was going to say that none of my brothers can cook but then I remembered that the twins made spaghetti for dinner once, and my oldest brother makes scrambled eggs in the morning on occasion. So, they can cook, they just don't very often.