Snowed In(manxman)

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Will’s eyes felt gritty and heavy as he struggled to open them. His body was sluggish and weighted and he felt as if he were being held down or struggling through mud as he attempted to shift on the mattress.

With a moan he managed to open his eyes and take a glance around him. He was in Turner’s bed. It was dark outside and a fire burned in the hearth. Beaux was sound asleep on his favorite rug and the clock told Will it was three in the morning.

He turned his head to the side and saw a lamp burning on the bedside table and Turner in a kitchen chair he’d pulled up beside the bed. Will frowned at the sight of the man. Turner looked horrible.

His face was covered in at least a weeks worth of beard, his hair was knotted and limp around his pale face and his clothes were rumpled. His hands were folded on his stomach, his legs were stretched out, his ankles crossed and his head rested on his chest while he snored lightly.

Will had no idea what was going on. He had no idea why he was so sluggish and weary. His lungs ached and he felt the urge to cough though he held back hoping to keep from disturbing Turner. The last thing Will remembered was getting into the bed with Turner after the man threw the sofa outside.

He closed his eyes and remembered flashes of other things. Flashes of writhing with fever, flashes of Turner’s concerned brown eyes gazing into his, flashes of Turner begging him to wake up, to get well, to come back to him.

Will shifted on the bed, “Turner?” his raspy voice called. The sound was barely more than a whisper but it had Turner’s eyes flying open and the man leapt from the chair and dropped to his knees beside the bed.

“Will? Dear God, you’re finally awake aren’t you?” he demanded.

Will nodded, “T..thirsty.”

Turner nodded. He stood up, filled a cup with water from a bucket and then came back and helped Will sit up since Will was too weak to sit up himself. Turner’s touch was gentle as he caressed Will’s cheek and laid the cup against his lips.

Will took several long swallows before pushing the cup away. Turner sat it on the table and stared hard at Will for a moment. He acted as if he wanted to say or do something but was holding himself back.

“What happened…?” Will questioned, his voice stronger now that his mouth and throat were not so dry.

Turner cleared his throat and stood up, “You were real sick, Will.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

Turner blew out a long breath and rubbed his face roughly, “Three days off and on. If you’d have slept ‘til morning it would have been four. You woke up now and then but you were delirious with fever and probably don’t remember.”

“Sorry,” Will mumbled. “I’m sure you’ve had better things to do than play nurse maid to me.”

Turner’s face was unreadable as he shook his head and walked to the kitchen counter. He grabbed a bowl and then went to the fire. He ladled a bit of pleasant smelling soup into the bowl and then walked back to the bed, “You need to eat.”

Will took the bowl in his hands and looked inside, “It’s nothing but broth,” he pouted.

Turner’s mouth turned up in a smile, “You gotta take it easy, Will, you haven’t had food in days.”

Will sighed and began to drink the broth. It was good and smooth and his empty stomach roared with delight at being filled with it.

He was disappointed when he couldn’t hold more than half the broth and he sighed as he held the bowl back out to Turner who took it and sat it on the bedside table.

Will yawned, “Are you tired?” Turner asked.

“Yeah… but I feel like I’m gonna make it,” Will attempted humor.

Turner nodded, “You are gonna make it. Bernice and I didn’t make a nine hour round trip to town for medicine just to have you die now.”

Will’s eyes widened with surprise, “You went to town in that snow? You’re lucky Bernice didn’t slip and kill you both!”

Turner’s gaze softened and his fists clenched as if he were fighting the urge to touch Will, “I wasn’t gonna let you die. Now get some rest.”

Will watched Turner walk over to the arm chair beside the fire and sit down. He stared hard at the man as Turner stared into the fire. Turner had risked his life to save him. He could have very easily been killed during that trip to town and yet he had gone. Then he had taken care of Will and nursed him during those long days that he’d been delirious with fever…. .

Was it possible that Turner truly was a good man? Was it possible that he truly cared? That the change in him wasn’t simply an act to get his way?

Will coughed quietly and whimpered at the pain in his chest. He curled up in the empty bed and felt loneliness creep in. It wasn’t often that Will got sick, as a matter of fact he hadn’t been sick since he’d left home. He wanted to be held.. He wanted Turner to hold him.

“Turner?” he called before biting his lip and wondering if he could ask the man to do what he wanted.

Turner looked his way and raised a thick brow, “What is it, Will?”

“Can you…” Will took a deep breath. He’d never been the shy type and there was no point starting now, “This is your bed, Turner. Come sleep in it.”

Turner seemed surprised but then a handsome smile lit up his face, deepening the lines around his mouth, “Okay then.”

Turner stood and just before he killed the lamp, Will noticed the sheets and clothes drying on the other side of the cabin. He looked down at himself and realized he was wearing one of Turner’s flannel shirts and a pair of long underwear. The sheets felt clean and crisp below him.

“Turner?” Will whispered, embarrassment reddening his cheeks.

“Yeah? Turner asked, turning down the lamp and heading toward the bed in the firelight glow.

“Nearly four days, huh?”

“Yep.”

“And did I… well..” Will swallowed hard and just imagined what Turner had had to clean up the last few days.

Turner’s quiet chuckles filled the air as he slid into the bed, “We never have to speak of it.”

Will sighed gratefully as the mattress dipped down. He waited for Turner to put his arms around him but the man never did. Then Will remembered the way he had acted the first night they’d been in the bed when Turner had attempted to hold him. He recalled the way he had pushed Turner away.

“Turner?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m cold,” Will lied.

“You have a blanket.”

“I’m still cold… Maybe if you were closer I’d be warmer.”

Will barely had time to finish speaking before Turner’s broad, warm body slid against the back of his and his arm encircled his waist, locking Will in place. Will could fell Turner’s warm breath against his hair and he nearly burst into flames right there when Turner’s lips gently caressed his ear.

“Go to sleep, Will. You need rest.”

Will nodded and snuggled deeper into the covers and Turner’s grasp. He felt warm, safe and protected. He wanted to talk to Turner, make up for the days they’d lost while he’d been so sick. Get to know the man more than he did….

Those were Will’s last thoughts as he quickly drifted back to sleep.