Chapter 17: Eight Weeks

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Chapter 17

"I don't wanna love you / don't wanna need you / just wanna leave you" Keyshia Cole - (I Just Want It) To Be Over

860-590-2230: we have to talk

I shielded my mouth in the crook of my arm while I sneezed uncontrollably followed by a prolonged coughing fit. My throat burned and head throbbed. I felt like shit; worse than shit. Like molded bread at the bottom of a trash bag under sour milk and week old Chinese take out. I pulled the blanket up around my shoulders, trying to hold in some heat. I had the chills even though I was sweating.

Joe cracked the bedroom door open carrying a steaming mug in his hand. He was dressed in his work attire looking incredibly handsome as he walked over to me, placing the mug on the nightstand. One whiff of the cinnamon aroma made me stomach flip, sending me in a minor dizzy spell.

I shook my head and turned away from the warm beverage.

"Drink some tea while you take these." I heard what could only be a pill bottle hit the oak wood. Joe's large hand momentarily palmed my clammy forehead. "You're burning up." Weakly, I pushed his hand off my head, only to see a thermometer coming towards my lips.

"I knew I shouldn't have let you go out with Sparkle and Tay last night," Joe fussed while waiting for the thermometer to beep. My head hurt too bad to roll my eyes but I did it mentally. Lately communication has been extra strict. Joe wants to know where I'm going, why I'm going there and how long I'll be gone.

But.

If he doesn't 'approve' he has to accompany me or have someone he can trust. And his list of people he trusts is very small.

Joe pulled the thin device from between my lips when it chirped. He held it back, reading the small numbers. He placed it on the table near the untouched mug of tea and pulled away my layers of covers.

"Stop," I whined faintly. Joe slid one arm under my back and under my legs lifting me up.

"We're going to the hospital. You have a temperature of 104." All I heard was hospital, I tried to build up some strength to kick my legs but it was no use. Joe carried me into the guestroom, which, I'd practically turned into my closet with the help of a few rolling racks.

He laid me on the bed then picked out a brown sweatshirt and extra large sweatpants. Joe dressed me quickly then lifted me up again.

"I can walk."

He ignored me, carrying me through the house and out the door to his car. He opened the door, lowering me into the passenger seat. I grabbed my seatbelt and clicked it together without his help. It was the least I could do. Joe came around to the drivers seat, slamming the door after he got in.

"Elle did you drink last night?"

The tension in his face had me reluctant to answer but I whispered, "yes." He sighed heavily while starting up the car.

"You like needles and IV's hooked up to your arm?" he yelled. "I'm getting tired of this bullshit with you." I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. "You probably have alcohol poisoning again," he fussed. "Did you eat anything before drinking?"

I stayed silent in the seat, trying not to puke from the bumpy ride. So what, I drink. He knew that when we first started this thing that we were in. So what, I get drunk sometimes. I'm never drunk around JJ and I'm always better in the morning.

.
I finished preparing two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for Rick and placed them on the small square table in the kitchen. He was still in his work clothes with his tie loosened around his neck.

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