SECOND CHANCES (ORIGINAL WORK)

CHAPTER TWELVE

She hesitated before she bent her head and muttered, "Something like that..."

Chuckling, Jason moved past her and walked into the house when he staggered slightly, stumbling on a thick black bag lying carelessly on the ground. With a cry, Aaliyah caught him just before his back hit the ground, holding tightly to his arm while struggling to keep hold of her own bag as well. With a deep intake of breath, he leaned against her, clutching tightly to her arm for support and burying his head in her shoulder. She heard him sniff her and sigh, and she heated up just slightly

She frowned and placed her hand on his forehead, which was blazing hot. "You have a fever," she snapped. "Go lie down while I fetch you some ice and a towel."

"I'll do it," he insisted, attempting to disengage from her hold and walk by himself. He staggered again, and she held him.

"No, just lie down, I'll take care of it."

"Aaliyah, I'll—"

Aaliyah shook her head and placed a hand on his cheek, staring into his eyes. "Please. You... you need to get better."

He was silent. After a moment, he acquiesced, and she led him to the couch where he lied on his side. She picked the bag he had stumbled on earlier and removed it from the way. Next, she picked a blanket from the sofa next to the couch and covered him with it.

"Thanks, Lia," he muttered, just before a racking cough caused him to bend over, a hand holding onto his stomach. She felt pain slam into her chest, wishing she could bring herself to tell him of her past; it hurt that the name that rolled perfectly off his tongue was only an alias. She felt like a fraud.

Brushing the thoughts away to focus on making him feel better, Aaliyah went into the kitchen and rummaged through the drawers, retrieving a clean dish towel with red roosters printed on it. From the wooden cupboard, she pulled out a large bowl before moving over to the freezer. She scooped some ice into the water and carried it to him.

She placed the bowl gently on the coffee table beside the couch and took a seat at the edge of the sofa next to him.

Aaliyah dipped the cloth in the water, wrung it out, and placed it over his forehead. Jason closed his eyes at the cooling sensation.

"Why didn't you want to go to the doctor?" she asked, staring at him.

"I hate taking medicine," he said simply, his voice totally exhausted.

"Have you been eating well?"

He swallowed hard, heaving a sigh without uttering a word. She read through his body language that the answer was negative.

"Well, good thing I had the instinct to whip you up some soup before I came by," she continued. "You like chicken noodle, right?"

He didn't reply, but she took matters into her hands and stood, going over to the kitchen counter to grab the large bag before walking back over to the living room. She unpacked the sack, producing a thermos, soup bowl, side plate, paper napkin, soup spoon, a small basket of bread rolls, a plastic plate of salt, and pepper packets.

"Lia, you didn't have to do all this."

She didn't realize he had opened his eyes till he spoke. She shook her head. "I wanted to."

She unscrewed the lid of the thermos and poured creamy chicken soup into the bowl, steam curling invitingly from its surface. He sat up with great difficulty, reclining into the couch. She handed the plate over to him, waiting in anticipation for his assessment. It mattered to her.