The Odds of Happily Ever After (The Reyes Siblings #2)

Chapter 14

chapter fourteen

gabe

Max

Did you get kidnapped by a student or something? Where are you?

The ringing reverberated in my skull, the noise shooting aches through my body.

Who the fuck was at my door?

Mustering the last of my energy, I pushed myself off the sofa. Each movement felt like fighting my way through quicksand. Whoever was ringing my doorbell better had a damn good reason to force me up.

I trudged across the living area, thanking my past self for crashing on the sofa instead of my bed. Then again, I wouldn’t have made it upstairs anyway.

I yanked the door open and glared at Luna’s smiling face.

What in the hell?—

“Surprise?” she chirped and slipped past me faster than a . . .

My brain glitched mid-metaphor.

Still standing at the doorway, I turned and watched her unload the contents of her tote bag on my kitchen island. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, you stole my line.” Luna had the gall to chuckle, though she sobered up quickly. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“How do you know where I live?”

“Ate gave me your address before she left. You know, in case of emergency. You’re sick, so this qualifies.”

Damn it. I forgot I agreed to that when Tala asked for my permission. “It’s just a fever.”

“Have you checked your vitals?”

“What? No.” There was no need for that—I knew what a fever felt like.

“Good thing I’m here then.” Luna lifted a first-aid kit from her bag. “Don’t worry, I’ll kick myself out later. Lie down—you look like you’re about to fall over.”

Moving toward me, she closed the door, locked it, and took my hand. I recoiled at the contact, my skin tingling all over.

Her eyebrows drew together, and she stepped away. “Sorry. I was just going to help you to the sofa.”

“I can walk.” I barely managed to get there without my knees buckling. As soon as the seat was close enough, I collapsed onto it with a groan and squeezed my eyes tight.

I distantly heard the sounds of a cupboard opening and water running, and then Luna spoke to me in a soft voice. “Drink some water.” Something cool and solid rested against my bottom lip, and I lifted my head enough to take a sip.

The water eased my dry throat, and Luna held the glass up for me until I had my fill.

“Good,” she said. “I’ll check your temperature and blood oxygen.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Better safe than sorry. Don’t worry; this is quick and painless.”

I grunted as I leaned back on the cushion. A few minutes later, something beeped above my forehead.

“Your temp’s thirty-nine degrees.”

My eyes popped open in alarm, and then I realized she meant Celsius. “You almost gave me a stroke,” I grumbled.

“It’s not my fault you guys don’t follow the international scale,” she murmured. “I’ll use a pulse oximeter on your right pointer finger. There’s no needles or anything. Okay?”

“Fine.” I let my eyelids fall shut because it took too much effort to keep them open.

“Put your right hand on your chest—there. I’ll move your finger now, alright? You’ll feel a slight squeeze.”

I nodded, and then she gently lifted my pointer finger and clamped something around it.

“Ninety-six.”

“Which means?”

“It’s within the normal range. Anything lower than ninety means you need to go to the ER.”

“I told you . . . fever.”

“It’s a high one. Could be the flu. You need lots of liquids and rest.”

“I have meetings.” What time were they—three and six p.m.? Or was it three-thirty and five? My mind felt like it was stuck in a heavy haze.

“You’re hardly conscious. Cancel them.”

“Fuck.” I felt sleep tugging at my brain, but I said, “Where’s my phone? Need to inform clients.”

“Why don’t you ask your assistant to contact them?”

“No assistant.”

“I’ll do it.”

“No—” I attempted to sit up and only managed to slightly lift my head off the sofa.

“We can waste time arguing about this, or you could save your energy and let me do it.”

Even I knew when to fold. “Don’t use text speak. And no emojis.”

“Noted, Professor. I appreciate your faith in my judgment,” she said. “Promise I won’t flirt with your clients, either.”

I gave her my passcode. “Everything’s in my calendar. The numbers are?—”

“I’ve got it, Gabe. Go to sleep.”

The last thought I had was how I’d just put my career in the hands of Tala’s little sister.

Then everything blanked out.

luna

Luna

Sorry Kai, I won’t be able to make it later

Kai

No worries! I got you covered

Luna

THANK YOU!! I’ll take over your shift on Monday if that works for you

Kai

Sure. Take care there, ok?

Gabe stirred for the first time in almost four hours, pulling my attention from my econ readings. He groaned, and I got up from the armchair to check on him. His eyes were squeezed shut like he was in pain as he turned his head in my direction. Carefully, I placed my palm on his forehead, keeping the touch light so I wouldn’t startle him. His skin felt clammy, but at least he wasn’t as warm as he’d been earlier.

After dampening a washcloth, I knelt beside the sofa to wiped Gabe’s forehead. His eyelids blinked open, and my hand stopped, heart clenching at the sight of his blue-gray eyes. They were bleary and unfocused, lacking their usual keenness.

“Luna,” he rasped, spurring me into action.

I grabbed the glass I’d left on his coffee table and tilted it to his lips. He kept his gaze on me as he drank, and it took my full concentration to hold the glass steady. In all my crazy imaginings, I’d never pictured this—taking care of him while he was sick. Him trusting me enough to let me care for him, though he might argue he’d had no choice. It felt . . . intimate , being with him like this.

He tipped his head away from the glass, so I put it back on the table and used the washcloth to dab the water that had trickled onto his chin. My eyes lingered on the corner of his mouth and the urge to wipe it with my thumb hit me out of nowhere.

Rearing back, I dropped the cloth on Gabe’s chest.

Oh my God, pull yourself together, Luna. The man has a fever, and here you are, checking him out.

“I thought I imagined you here,” Gabe murmured, oblivious to my inappropriate thoughts. His eyes traced my face, and I swore my temperature shot up like I had a fever too.

“Disappointed?” I joked, as though my nerves weren’t firing all at once from his nearness.

The left corner of his mouth lifted the slightest bit. “No.”

My chest seemed to burst wide open at that single word. I knew it was simply human nature to want company when you were sick, but giddiness overtook my rational side anyway. “Are you feeling better?”

“Somewhat.”

“I’m glad you woke up. You need to take your medicine again, and you should eat. I made chicken noodle soup if you’re up for it. It’s the canned type, but it’s pretty good and there’s also bananas and crackers—those should be okay for your stomach,” I babbled.

His forehead creased. “Where did you get them? I don’t have any of those things.”

“I brought them,” I said. “Hope you don’t mind that I used your stove for the soup.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Well, I didn’t have time to cook it at home cause I was rushing to check on you.”

“No, I meant you didn’t have to do all that.”

I shrugged. “It’s what friends do.” Heat swept up my neck. “Sisters of friends, I mean.” Standing, I brought the glass to the kitchen. “So, what do you want to eat?”

“Soup sounds good.” From the corner of my eye, I caught him lurching up. “Fuck. What time is it?”

I glanced at my watch. “Almost six.”

“I have a meeting. I was supposed to have one at three?—”

“Relax. I texted Felix and Olive,” I said, turning the stove on. “They’re expecting you to contact them tomorrow to reschedule.”

Silence met my words, and I glanced over to find him gaping at me, his eyes wide.

“Did you . . .”

“Tell them you were knocked out on your couch? No. I did say you had the flu and apologized for the last-minute cancellation.”

“Right.”

I stirred the soup so it would heat all the way through. “Your, ah, dad also texted. I swear I didn’t open it on purpose,” I added before he freaked out. “I was in the middle of replying to Felix when the message came in.”

“Remind me to change my passcode,” he said loud enough for me to overhear.

“Hey!” I glared at him. “I could have messed things up for you big time but I didn’t. A little appreciation would be nice.”

He had the decency to look rueful. “Sorry. Thank you for handling my clients.”

“You’re welcome. It might be a good idea to get an assistant. Especially since you’re juggling two jobs.”

“And soon, a dissertation.”

My mouth fell open. “No way. How are you going to do all that at the same time?”

He lifted one shoulder. “Time management. And an assistant that I have yet to hire.”

“Uh huh. I could never.” Ladling soup into a bowl, I placed it on a saucer along with a spoon and some crackers. I brought it to the coffee table, mindful not to spill anything on his rug.

Gabe maneuvered himself into a sitting position, wincing as he moved. I propped up the cushion behind him.

“Thanks again, Luna,” he told me. “I appreciate it.”

“Sure.” I reached for the bowl, but he shook his head.

“I’ve got it,” he said as he reached for it himself. He carefully held the bowl in front of him and scooped a spoonful of soup, blowing on it before he ate.

“Is it okay? Not too hot or too salty?”

“It’s just right.”

“Good.” I pulled the armchair closer to him just in case and sat.

“You seem like you’ve done this before.”

I fiddled with the hem of my shirt. “I don’t have Ate and Mama’s training, but I helped take care of Lola at home. I learned from her nurses at the hospital, and Mama taught me a bit too.”

“What was it like,” he asked, “taking care of your grandmother?”

The old emotions swelled up inside me again. My words came out unchecked. “Hard. Painful.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his gaze steady on mine.

I swallowed. “I’m not.” Looking past him, I recalled Lola’s hand wrapped around mine. How she thanked me for taking care of her. “I’m glad I was able to do that for her.”

“I’m sure you made her happy.”

“I hope so,” I whispered. Those months after Lola passed, I wondered if I’d done enough for her. If I’d made her feel loved the way she always made me feel. The not knowing haunted me so many nights when I cried in bed, trying not to be too loud so my brother wouldn’t hear.

Liquid dropped on my hands, and I cringed at the realization that I was crying in front of Gabe. “Sorry,” I said as I wiped my face with trembling fingers.

“No, I’m sorry for making you sad.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I brought up the topic.”

“I’m the one who’s still not over it. It’s been four years. You’d think I wouldn’t be as emotional about it now.”

He was silent, and I hazarded a look at him. His lips were pressed together as though in thought. “I haven’t experienced loss like that,” he said slowly. “But I imagine it would take a while to heal, especially when you loved the person so much.”

I nodded, turning his words over in my mind. Then I tipped my head up to stop the waterworks. When I felt almost sure I had it under control, I dropped my gaze and checked his bowl. “Try to eat more.”

He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I like the sound of that. You should say that more often.”

“Don’t get used to it.” He ate all the same, getting through half the soup and the cracker before he put the bowl on the table. “It’s getting late.”

The room had grown dimmer without me noticing, and when I glanced out the window, the sky was soft and tinged with pink-orange.

“Oh, yeah. Let me just get you your medicine and clean up.” I grabbed the bowl and brought it back to the kitchen. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yes. This isn’t my first time being sick on my own.”

He said it in a matter-of-fact tone, like he couldn’t care less that he’d had to get through being sick on his own. I hated it for him.

“But . . .” he added, “It was nice to have you here.”

I smiled at him. “Yeah?”

He dipped his head. “That said, I’m still changing my passcode.”