Checkmate

28

   After approximately thirty minutes of pacing around the room, stopping only to change the cold compresses on Sam's forehead, I breathed in relief when from the window I saw Colton making his way to the house.

I quickly rushed down the stairs and yanked the door open, stepping aside to let him through.

"Thank you for coming so fast," I said as I closed the door.

Worry was etched on his face as he curtly nodded, and turned back in search of Sam.

"Where is he?"

"Upstairs. His fever is still there but his throat hurts less," I said as I walked past him, leading us toward the staircase.

When we reached my room, Sam was laying down on his side, watching Home on my iPad.

"Isn't that my son over there? The kid that beat me at penalties and FIFA?"

Sam looked over his shoulder and gave him a lazy smile.

Colton came to sit down beside him, gently punching his shoulder as he looked him over.

"How are you feeling, kiddo?"

Sam began to mime all his symptoms.

   Though I was exhausted, there was no way I was getting any sleep tonight.
Colton tried his best to joke around with him but after some time, Sam began to show his frustration. I'd kept routinely putting cold towels over his head, it's helped but when he struggled to keep his eyes open, the constant back and forth made him whine in discomfort. His temperature went down but not enough to put me at ease and regardless of his protests, I had no choice but to keep his head cool.

I was humming him a lullaby when Colton appeared in the doorway carrying two mugs. The aroma of the warm beverage invaded my nostrils the closer he got.

When he was at arm's length, I breathed in the caffeinated scent, basking in the energy boost the smell alone was giving me.

"You look like you could use some of this," he said, handing the black mug.

Letting go of Sam's forehead, I accepted it with a small smile, whispering, "Thank you," as I blew on the steaming beverage.

   My lips caressed the warm ceramic, the lingering touch already bringing me back to life before I even drank my first sip. I drank the sweet liquid with a moan of delight, my shoulders slumped and a sense of relief washed over me as I basked in the feeling.

   Eager for another gulp, his chuckle made me pause to look at him. Finding him watching me as I took another sip, my eyes didn't deter from his gaze. I was way too stubborn to show my embarrassment, so I enjoyed my coffee and then looked down at the mug in my hand as I pensively hummed.

"You were always so good at making coffee," I said, eyes traveling from my drink to him.

"It's a survival skill when you're a junkie," he chuckled lightly more to himself, his large hand over the cup as he stared ahead.

I hummed as I remembered all my past attempts at recreating his comfort drink of choice. In all our years together, I always failed, but his skill proved extremely valuable during exam weeks when I'd find myself lost in my notes late at night with only coffee and the promise of better tomorrows to push me forward.