Tangled In Strings

Chapter Twenty-Two

He bends to his knees, his dark curls shielded still by a baseball cap. I take in the sight of him, mouth stapled shut, observing his unusually casual clothes, his features paled by lack of sleep.

"I saw you a week ago, Scarlett," he whispers, unable to conceal his horror. "What's going on?"

I must look pretty bad. Gulping, I look from him to the place I had fallen asleep.

Like a person possessed, I scramble up and crash into him, taken by the relief of his body. I feel like I've gone insane. Maybe I have. I gather his shirt in fistfuls, urging him closer even though he's as close as I can possibly get him.

His hands move the length of my back over the jacket. "You're shivering."

"It's cold."

"No...it's not." He pulls back, and applies the back of his hand to my cheek, then my forehead. His mouth slims with finality. "You have a fever."

"Are you sure?" I reply, too tired to raise my cheek from his shoulder. A small sound of protest leaves my lips when he gathers me into his arms again, more urgently this time and stands. His warmth is welcoming.

"Did you bring anything? Clothes?"

I shake my head. "My purse."

"Is there Tylenol in there? Ibuprofen?"

He sets me down onto the couch. "Yeah."

He leaves wordlessly, and with the door wide open, I see him snatch up my purse from the step. He shuts the door and locks it, making his way over to the table. I sink into the uncomfortable lumps of cushion, and close my eyes.

I hear Giovanni rummaging through my purse.

"What's this?"

My eyes open, despite the deliriousness. He's holding a prescription bottle.

"Zoloft. My doctor proscribed it."

He's clearly not happy with that admission, but he sets it down, continuing on for the Tylenol. Unscrewing the cap, he pours a couple of pills into his hand and heads to the kitchen.

"I just need some sleep, Gio. I'll be fine then."

"How many days have you been telling yourself that?"

"You sound mad."

"At myself, yeah."

"This is my fault."

He comes back to me, and bends, holding out his hand. I take the pills and water he extends, and swallow them both. He helps me up and out of my clothes, which is already dry apart from my shoes which are soaked through, probably for good. He pulls me up, back into his arms and I shove my face into his chest, clutching onto the material, appreciating his natural warmth.

"There's no bath here, but we need to get the fever down. The shower is going to have to do, unless you want me to take you to the hospital."

Any arguments I was about to make remain inside, so he will choose this option. He walks me into the bedroom and fits us into the small bathroom. Setting me down onto the toilet seat, he reaches into the standing shower, turning on the water.

"This looks different," he observes. I can't wrap my arms tighter around myself.

"N-Norman had people brought in...to update the place."

He tests out the water with his hand. "I liked the rustic disrepair vibe this place had going."

I nod, nearly lifting my feet from the cold tile. He turns, grabbing my hands. Dizzily, I reach out and he steadies me.