Falling for the Grinch ✔️

Twelve | Sleigh

Rhett

I'm fucking sick.

Like literally running a fever and having a massive migraine the size of Texas. I was fine when I went to bed last night after our Caroler session was over and I brought Holly home, but as I woke up this morning to a scratching Sammy against my arm, my head started pounding.

Even swallowing hurt my throat. It felt like knives were slicing through my damn windpipe. I let out a groan when I stood up from my bed, taking slow steps toward the bathroom to brush my teeth and splash some water onto my face — it made me feel a little better, like a normal human being again, but the pounding wasn't just in the back of my crown anymore, it was slowly moving into my eyes.

I swallowed again, cursing under my breath before turning off the light and meeting Sammy in the kitchen near his empty bowls.

"I know, buddy... I'm trying."

Even speaking was pathetic.

My voice was groggy and a slight cough escaped through my lips. After taking two Advil with a small glass of water, which only irritated my throat more, I sat down on the couch and stared up at the ceiling as if that would be the answer to my pain.

Sammy jumped onto the couch, sitting beside me with his face in my lap. I'm scratching the back of his ears when I hear my phone go off in the bedroom. I quickly look to my right, eyeing the time on the microwave. It's after eleven on a Sunday.

Don't people usually rest on Sundays?

And on the seventh day— he rested.

Some people need to bring out the damn scripture and reread it word for word, but honestly, if I had to guess, I knew exactly who it was.

She's fierce. Unlike anyone I've ever met.

Grabbing my phone from the bedroom and sitting back inside my little hole on the couch, I find a text from Holly and a missed call.

Junkie: Rude that you didn't answer... just so you know it was very important.

Me: Did you need help deciding on what fuzzy socks to wear?

Junkie: Actually, no, but I'll keep that in mind for next time.

Me: What do you need?

Junkie: Do you like Candy Canes?

As random as she is, I shouldn't be so surprised. With a tilt of my head to try and relieve the ache in my neck, I respond.

Me: That's important??

Junkie: Mom wanted to make you a gift basket, so yes it was.

A gift basket? I can't remember the last time someone had made an effort to get or make me anything. The feeling makes me uncomfortable.

Me: Renee doesn't have to do that.

Junkie: Yes or no?

So persistent.

Me: Not really and even if I did I wouldn't be able to eat it.