Derailed

Chapter Sixteen

The light of the train grew closer as I stood, unable to move. I vaguely realized that people were shouting at me to get off the tracks, but all of my focus was on the light coming toward me and the heat rapidly spreading through my body.

I woke up with a start. I was sweaty, but not the cold sweat of a bad dream. I still felt on fire. I kicked off the covers, but it didn't help. I struggled out of my pajama pants, hoping for some relief from the heat. I winced when I tried to swallow, my head pounded, and my entire body hurt. I was really and truly sick. I wanted to take a cold shower, but the walk down the hall seemed insurmountable.

I rolled over, hoping a change of position would ease the body aches. It didn't help. Pulling myself out of bed, I fumbled around for my purse, knowing I had a small container of ibuprofen. Shaking out two tablets, I threw the now empty bottle back in the purse and took a gulp of water from a bottle I'd brought home with me from the party.

I barely slept the rest of that night. I spent it tossing and turning, feeling miserable and hot. The hours dragged by. The numbers on the clock moved at a snail's pace. When my phone rang at eight a.m. and Ben's number flashed across the screen, I felt the first semblance of relief.

"Hello," I croaked.

"Yikes. Not feeling any better, huh?"

"So much worse."

"I was calling to see if you wanted to take a sailboat out, but obviously that's not happening. Is it just a bad cold?"

"Fever, body ache, sore throat." I tried to suppress a moan, but failed. I felt beyond miserable.

"Have you taken anything?"

"Two ibuprofen last night, but I'm out."

"Hang in there. I'll be over soon."

"You don't have to come." I really hoped he wouldn't listen.

"Like I said, I'll be over soon."

I tried to fall back asleep, but it wasn't happening. Sometime later, I heard the front door open. I was glad I hadn't demanded Ben return the key. I was pretty sure I wouldn't have made it downstairs. He quickly ascended the stairs. The squeaky second from the top step let me know he was close.

"Hey, love." He sat down on the edge of the bed next to me. He touched a hand to my bare leg, but quickly removed it. "Wow, you are hot." He reached up to touch my forehead. "Okay, let's start with Tylenol."

I heard the rustle of a plastic bag before he propped me up and handed me pills and water.

I painfully swallowed the medicine. The pills felt enormous. "Thanks so much. You didn't have to come. I don't want to get you sick."

"Don't worry about me. You haven't eaten, have you? Are you hungry at all?"

"Not really."

"At least have a few crackers." He opened a pack of Ritz.

"The only kind of cracker I'll eat."

He smiled. "I know. Mom's going to bring some of her soup over in a few hours, but hopefully this will hold you. I can make you tea or whatever."

"Wow, you really know how to take care of a girl." I cringed as I croaked out the words. I sounded worse than I expected.

"I'm Prince Charming, remember?"

"How could I forget?"

He got up suddenly. "I've got an idea." He picked up my "Ben" box and rolled my desk chair over to the bed. "I'm sure this box can keep us busy until your meds kick in or you fall asleep."

"You don't have to wait until I fall asleep. You can go."

"Uh uh. I'm not leaving when you fall asleep."

"You're not?" I asked.

"Nope. I might go downstairs and watch TV, but I'm here at your service."

"I feel bad."

He leaned down close to me, kissing my forehead. "I know you do. You're sick."

"That's not what I mean."

He laughed. "Just relax. I'm here because I want to be. Besides, you'd better get used to me taking care of you. And just so you know, you're a VIP, because I wouldn't do this for just anyone."

"No? I made the short list?"

"The very short list."

"How short?"

"One name."

I closed my eyes, leaning back into my pillow. "Wasn't there some nostalgia to experience?"

"Yes. Shall I start by rereading some of my award winning letters? It looks like you kept them all."

"I knew they might be worth something one day."

I relaxed as he read his letters in one ridiculous voice after another. I must have nodded off because, when I woke up, I was sweaty again. Ben was there with more Tylenol and his mom's famous chicken soup. He propped me up with pillows and gently helped me balance the bowl.

After a few bites, the way he watched me made me self-conscious. "Wow, I bet I look really hot right now."

"Yeah, but hopefully the Tylenol will help."

"Ben!"

"Okay, okay. You look sick, but beautiful as always. I'll take it as a good sign that you are feeling well enough to even question it."

We spent the afternoon looking at old pictures and playing card games between naps. I felt much better until four o'clock rolled around.

I moaned and groaned as I curled up, trying to find a comfortable spot.

"I wish I could do more to help." He looked at me sweetly.

"You've done plenty. Don't you want to go home?"

"I told you, I'm not leaving."

"What, are you going to stay here all night?"

"Yeah. I figure Shayna can't complain if I sleep in her room, right?"

"Seriously?"

"Please don't sound so surprised. You're hurting my ego," he teased.

"I love you." The words slipped out without warning, and my stomach did flip flops. For a split second, I debated blaming it on the auto pilot, but the truth was, I'd never stopped loving him.

He smiled, picking up my hand and squeezing it. "I love you too."

Ben kept his word. He spent the night in Shayna's room, coming in to give me medicine just when it was time for more. The next morning, he made sure I had breakfast and a shower before he left.