Three's Company

23. In Sickness and In Heath

On the third day of his stay, Heath hadn't seen her in over twelve hours.

He had wondered if she needed space and spent his day alone, helping out on the farm and doing some odd jobs. He had taken leave of work due to his mental state so it was not like he needed to go into the city.

It was only after he finished dinner and began washing the dishes that the worried dog came up to him, whining and howling.

"What's up, boy? You hungry?" He cooed gently. The man frowned, crouching down to see Otto's dog bowl in his mouth and went to take it out when the dog refused.

He was certain his ex-wife would've fed their dog by now, finding it strange that he hadn't caught either of them the whole day.

Waggling his little tail, the dog simply bounced on the balls of his feet before turning and running out of the door. That was the hint he needed to follow after him, walking down the empty home and up the wooden stairs.

They passed one of the many spare rooms before passing his room and then eventually stopped when they reached the master bedroom they once shared.

Otto started to charge into the room, causing the man to raise a brow. He didn't want to enter her room and make things weird but the dog was insistent.

And when the door opened wide, he realised exactly why.

There he met the sight of her body wrapped in a million blankets and a pile of used tissues scattered. Her curly locks were pulled into a messy high bun and her nose looked red and irritated.

Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of howling, her body shaking from chills.

"Oh, my sweet boy. I told you to get me the sick bowl, not your water bowl." Mona sighed heavily, moving her gaze over to the clueless pup. "You got confused, huh?"

She ignored Heath's wandering eyes and awkwardly cleared her throat. "The bowl is under the bathroom sink, boy. Over there in the other room."

It was no use though. The dog dropped the water bowl by her bed and jumped on top of the covers.

He couldn't stand there and say nothing for much longer, and finally said. "You've been in here sick the whole day and didn't think to tell me, Mo?"

"I'm not sick." She was quick to interject, blowing her nose loudly into her crumpled-up tissue. "I'm not. It's just a runny nose, I can handle it."

"Jesus. So that's why you didn't come down for dinner? Have you even tried to eat anything?"

She scoffed. "I've barfing all day, Heath. My entire body aches, my stomach hurts, I have a sore throat, my nose is stuffy, and I have a headache. The last thing I want is to feed myself."

So she was sick.

He rolled his eyes. "Why didn't you just call me and ask me to look after you? You know I've been doing shit all."

"I didn't want to bother you."

That was all he needed to get into action. He left her in the room, walking into the en-suite bathroom and reaching down for the cabinet under the sink. A clear throw-up bowl resided in there which he retrieved with two fingers and then he got back up to his full height.

He rummaged through the top cabinet and pulled out some medicine she would need.

He had dealt with and seen her sick many times in their relationship and he was well aware of how to handle the situation.