Cabin Fever

Chapter 9

I was still focusing on my breathing and calming myself down when a car door closing shook me out of my stupor. Before I knew it a strong hand was on my shoulder. "Joy." I didn't respond. "Joy?" The deep and soothing voice questioned, drawing out my short one syllable name. I finally lifted my head, only to meet those beautiful hazel eyes of the man I was now sure I was falling in love with. "Curt?" My eyebrows must have shot two feet high as I inhaled a sharp breath.

"Are you okay?" He asked, hand still on my shoulder, steadying me. I nodded, but immediately thought better and reached a hand to my mouth. You know that nausea that sweeps over you, taking you under in briefest of seconds? Yeah, that happened. Instantly I had expelled everything in my stomach into the sink. Yuck. What was worse was the fact that Curt had stood, solidly, right by my side as I let it all out. By the time I was done, not only was I exhausted, but I was sobbing.

"Hey." There was that voice again. I pushed myself up to lean higher on the counter and closed my eyes. Simply trying to swallow and breathe. "You're going to be okay." It was the second time in twenty four hours Curt had used those exact words. Except this time he was talking about my heart, not just my ankle. I nodded, somehow thinking that agreeing would convince me of a fact that I thought was so far from the truth that I choked out a wry laugh.

All at once, the room began spinning and Curt swooped in like a knight in shining armor. He set me on the couch and settled me in for more rest. "Well," He began as he stood. "I brought coffee and bagels." He raised an eyebrow, silently assessing her. "Neither of which would be a good choice for you now." I moaned, throwing an arm over my eyes. My head throbbed. I really was grateful for the care. Even more so that Stephen wasn't the one giving it. His theory on things had always been that he'd give care on the sole principle that the receiving party would reciprocate. Being the girlfriend of a demanding man (I hesitated to even call him a man, though. In my experience and presence he most often acted like a boy. A spoiled selfish boy. Ugh.)

I was also keenly aware of the fact that Curt stayed carefully away from the subject of who that was. He was smart. At the moment, I did not have any intention of sharing anything about the man who had just left.

Curt was perceptive, I'd give him that. He elevated my foot, set a glass of seltzer water on the coffee table, along with a few saltine crackers. Lastly he placed a cool washcloth on my forehead. The cool of the cloth began doing its job as my eyes slid shut. The next thing I remember is blinking alert to the bright daylight streaming in.

My head began throbbing at the sight and I slid my eyelids down to allow only a minimal amount of the blindingly bright light in. Okay, that was better. Now to figure out what the deal was with the washcloth on my forehead and determine why I was still in my pajamas, waking up on the couch.

"Oh God." I moaned as I sat up and all the memories flooded back. What in the world was Stephen doing here anyway? He'd mentioned that Tammy had told him I was hurt, but how did she know? I shook my head and instantly regretted it. To aid in quelching the pain, I leaned forward, allowing my head to fall into the palms of my hands.

The tiny nugget that I did remember from earlier was that Curt had been here and taken care of me. But apparently he was gone now. What time was it even? The clock on the wall told me it was almost eleven am.

Curt had been a gem. Not only had he left some things to settle my stomach on the coffee table, but also my phone and a note. I picked up the note, finding my fingers tracing the letters. It read, "Joy - Hope you feel better now. :) Don't hesitate to let me know if you need anything. Curt" The word anything was underlined a couple of times to emphasize his point. He cared. Not necessarily a feeling that I wanted to acknowledge, but it was there nonetheless. I glanced around the room, noting that my eyes were finally adjusting to the light. Thank goodness for that. Not that I should have guessed any differently, but a quick glance at the floor told me that Curt had even thought far enough to leave my crutches on the floor.