Social Neighbor (The Social Series Book 1) (23 page)

“You’re such a jackass,” I whispered. “A stubborn, handsome, jackass,” I amended.

“You like it,” he mumbled, opening his eyes enough for me to see that they were bloodshot and clearly disoriented.

“I don’t like walking in to you practically combusting. You should have called me. You probably need to go to the hospital, Graham.”

“No. You stay,” he muttered again, except this time he groaned when he moved his leg.

“Stay still,” I ordered as I squeezed one hand in mine. I watched as he pulled my hand across to him and held my palm against the muscled plane spanning his chest. His heart was hammering away, due to the fever, I surmised.

But why was mine hammering away too? Fear? Excitement at having my hands on him? Both?

“Stay,” he whispered.

“I am. I’m not leaving.” I mopped his forehead, face and neck for another half an hour before banging on the front door made me jump. Leaving the washcloth on Graham’s forehead, I hurried to open the door for Ms. Brunette.

I swung the door open and stepped aside. As I knew she would, she breezed into Graham’s apartment like she owned the place and went right for him. I followed her and waited for her to acknowledge my presence.

“Graham! God, you’re such a pain in my ass! If you would have just let the nurse do her job!” She dug for her phone, jabbed at the screen and brought it to her ear.

“Barbara, this is Margaret Stone. I need you to get to my brother’s apartment immediately. He has a fever. I don’t care where you are! Well, hurry!” She ended the call and stuffed her phone back into her purse and finally looked up at me. “What in the hell are
you
doing here?”

“I’m the neighbor, and you can drop the bitchy attitude any time now.”

“Excuse me?” She seemed to nearly choke on her words.

“You heard me. You have no reason to act like that. You don’t know me.”

“I know enough.” She crossed her thin arms over her chest and eyed me.

“Sure you do. Just like I know all I need to know about you?”

She narrowed her eyes but seemed to get my point. She knew nothing about me just as I knew nothing about her. Making brash judgments hadn’t helped me at all lately, and I suspected that she was guilty of the same kind of thinking.

“How long has he been like this?” she demanded.

“I don’t know. He seemed fine last night but he did say that his leg was hurting yesterday. I already gave him a fever reducer.”

“Are you trying to kill yourself or something?” she admonished, turning her glare back to Graham.

His eyes popped open and the pure condemnation oozing from his dark orbs had taken me aback.

What’s that all about?

“What am I going to do with you?” Margaret inhaled deeply and despite her ugly attitude, concern was etched in her brown eyes. She wasn’t fooling anyone. She loved him very much. That was clear to me. I didn’t agree with the way she showed her love for her brother but that was no concern of mine.

I made to move away to allow Ms. Brunette a moment to make her own assessment of his condition. Graham’s eyes peered at me through narrow slits. “No. Don’t leave.”

“I’m not. I’m just going to stand by the door and wait for the nurse. Halley—Margaret is here,” I corrected myself and glimpsed over to Margaret who glared at me. “I’m sure she wants a moment to talk to you.” I brushed my palm over his cheek and headed for the door.

Barbara, the same woman in scrubs I’d seen once before, showed up looking flustered but she got to work immediately without paying much attention to her audience. I silently applauded her for not allowing Halley’s crappy attitude to inhibit the level of care she was giving her patient. She checked his vitals and did a full head to toe assessment, seemingly unaffected by Halley’s scrutinizing eyes.

“Well, his fever is down to within safe range,” Barbara announced, draping her stethoscope around her neck. She pulled her small notepad from her pocket and began scribbling.

“It looks like one of his pin sites is infected. I’m going to do his wound care now and change the dressing. I’ll call in to the doctor to see how he would like to proceed. I imagine he will order a course of antibiotics but if his fever spikes above one-hundred point five again, I recommend taking him to the emergency room right away. The risk of an infection getting into the bone is a very real possibility. If his doctor orders an antibiotic, who should I tell to pick it up from his pharmacy?” Barbara looked between us. I looked at Halley. She looked at me.

“Flor,” Graham murmured.

“May I have your phone number?” Barbara asked, her pen at the ready.

“Yes. Of course.” I spouted off my number and thought I saw Graham’s lips twitch.

Halley—Margaret—and I both sighed in relief and watched as Barbara finished caring for Graham masterfully. I made mental notes of everything she was doing just in case I’d need to do it myself.

“He shouldn’t be left alone until his fever is resolved.”

“Okay. I’ll be here. I’m the neighbor, so it’s no big deal.” I looked over at Graham and noticed that the twitch I saw before was now a small smile.

With his leg clean and dressed in fresh bandages, Barbara repeated her instructions and gave me her phone number in case there was an emergency or I had a question.

“You know, if you wanted to have a sleepover, you should have just invited me. No need for the dramatics.” I wiped his brow with the washcloth until I felt it was safe enough to set it aside. Halley had left but made sure to give out directives before taking her leave. I was glad that she left. That woman seemed to use up all the oxygen in the room.

“The only kind of sleepover I want to have you over for is the kind where there is no sleeping.”

“You say inappropriate things when you’re delirious.” I brushed my hand across his forehead and slipped my fingers into his hair. It was so soft.

“That’s not delirium talking, baby. That’s me.”

“Well…” I didn’t know what to say to that and it was taking great effort on my part to ignore the flutter in my stomach. “Would you like something to eat, drink?”

“I’m okay for now. Thank you.”

“No problem. Do you mind if I have Matt sit with you for a while? I’ll need to go to the pharmacy for the antibiotic.”

“I’ll be fine on my own, but if you prefer to dispatch a sitter, I won’t refuse.”

“Thank you.”

I sent Matt a quick text asking him to pull Goliath-sitting duty tonight. I needed to go get his medicine from the pharmacy and a few groceries. It was taking a lot of calories to keep him content and both kitchens were looking pretty bare.

Getting his medicine was top priority. I hated seeing him this way.

My poor Goliath.

Graham

The Whipping Post

I
felt like shit. My leg was throbbing. I was achy as though the flu had settled in but it was an infection. I was glad it was nothing more serious. I felt much better than I did when Flor first found me in the recliner, though.

The fever reducers had done the trick, my leg had fresh bandages on it, and I hoped that the antibiotics would remedy the infection that had crept up on me. I had no interest in being dragged back to the hospital, so as much as it pained me to admit, I was glad that Halley hired a nurse. I’d rather deal with a nurse here than with a whole swarm of nurses and doctors at the hospital.

I checked the time on my phone, wondering when Flor would be back. That woman was a witch! She’d cast a spell on me—one that tightened its hold on me by the minute. I loved having her around. I spent time at Tommy’s to feel close to him, to force myself to see his things in an effort to atone for my failures, and to ground myself. Something about being in Tommy’s apartment always made me feel stronger than I suspected I was. It could have been in my head, but I was beginning to think that being with Flor had the same affect. It was difficult to say with any amount of certainty. Maybe once I spent some more time with her outside of these four walls, I’d know for sure if this woman was the medicine that seemed to soothe my troubled soul.

She made me feel bigger than myself. She made me feel more confident in my sobriety, and she’d done it without even realizing it. I hadn’t told her yet that I was an alcoholic and still she’d given me the encouragement I needed to keep waging war against my enemy.

I had to tell her soon. She needed to know and seeing how kind she was, how tender her touch was, my courage to just get it over with had been bolstered. She wouldn’t view me any differently, right? No. She was too kind. Even if she didn’t realize it, she had a heart of gold and I knew—
knew—
that she’d take my hideous truth in stride. She’d have to. She just
had
to. I kept telling myself that it was going to be fine. I’d tell her and she’d smile that breathtaking smile of hers that made my heart leap and she’d reassure me and that goodness that radiated off her would soak into me. I’d be better for having surrendered the burden of truth to a woman that I was quickly falling for. Did she know? Could she see how much I wanted her? All of her?

I found myself counting the minutes until her return. I found myself growing giddy and restless when I knew she would be showing up any minute. I was a teenager all over again, and it felt amazing to be that excited about someone again.

Flor was my new addiction. She was sweet as wine and fiery as fine scotch. She’d enraptured me, and I wanted no help for my new addiction.

“So, Matt, what do you do?” I reached for the remote and turned the volume down, preparing to make conversation with Matt. I wanted to know more about Flor and who better to ask than her best friend and roommate? My leg still hurt like a son of a bitch, but the medicine that Flor had given me helped take the edge off and my fever was no longer set on purgatory.

“I’m a hair stylist,” Matt boasted proudly, setting his cell phone down.

“Flor has great hair, huh?” I sounded breathy, like a lovesick puppy.

“Flor has great everything.”

“Yes, she does. She doesn’t know it, does she?”

“Nope. Oblivious. I tell her all the time but it hasn’t gotten through that thick skull of hers.”

“What’s her story?”

“Shouldn’t you ask her?” Matt eyed me, scrunching his lips to the side.

“Okay. I get it but can you help a guy out?” I held my hands up, pleadingly. He seemed to sit there for a moment, deep in thought.

“Fine. Stay here.” Matt jumped up and left, returning after a few minutes with a small bag.

“Can you get in your wheelchair?”

“Uh, yeah.” I transferred myself to my chair and watched Matt move the coffee table to the side and roll up the rug on the floor. He situated my chair in the center of the open space.

“Good.” Matt began digging out the tools of his trade and unfolded a black cape. He whipped it out with a flourish. The bottom hem of the cape snapped sharply then floated down to drape around my neck and shoulders.

“I didn’t exactly mean a haircut when I asked for help.” I was confused but compliant. I waited to see where he was going with this.

“I know what you meant.” He didn’t explain, so I decided to sit tight and see what the hell he was up to.

“I also know that when a client is in my chair, I am not responsible for what comes out of my mouth and there is a strict honor code between my client and me. I don’t kiss and tell and neither do they,” he whispered. “Not to mention that your hair is a hot mess, which is a pity because you have great hair, Goliath.”

“I see.” I decided right then that I really liked Flor’s best friend.

“So? Tell me what’s on your mind, Goliath.” He ran his fingers through my hair and evaluated what he had to work with as he pulled a comb from the small bag.

“She said her sister died.”

“Don’t be shy now. Just dive right in,” he deadpanned and ran the comb through my hair a little harshly.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“When she was little, her younger sister died unexpectedly.” He was careful with the words he chose and I had to respect him for being loyal to Flor. Martin was loyal to me in that way. What we said stayed between us, and I could see that Flor and Matt had the same kind of rapport.