Fall (VIP #3)(51)

Christ. She doesn’t understand this? Friends fucking show. No matter what. I could be acting like a complete dick, but if I called Whip, Rye, Brenna, Scottie, Sophie, or Libby, they’d be there for me. I’d do the same for them. In an instant, I miss my friends.

My thoughts are interrupted when Stella jerks and opens her eyes with a gasp. It stops my heart. “What?” I touch her cheek. “Are you hurting?”

She just looks at the door. “Food. Guy should be here.”

Sagging against the padded headboard, I rest my hand on her head. “It’s okay. I paid him.”

But her eyes stay wild. “Stevens and Hawn.”

At the sound of his name, Stevens prowls out from under the bed and leaps up to cuddle Stella’s thigh. She weakly touches his head. I eye the little fur ball with trepidation. He might like Stella, but the bugger is shifty as fuck. “I’ll feed the pets,” I tell her. Stevens narrows his devil eyes at me as if to say, you better fucking do it or I’ll gut you. I believe it.

“His litter box,” Stella whispers, worried.

I swear Stevens smirks. I suppress a shiver. “Yeah, I’ll do that too.”

Stella sighs and snuggles back down on my lap. “’Kay.”

“You want some soup?”

She shakes her head, burrowing in deeper and slinging her arm over my thighs. It does something to me, the way she clings. No one has ever looked to me for simple physical comfort. Ever. I wouldn’t have allowed it. I’m not a cuddler. Women have tried to cling. It made my skin crawl. I used to think I was broken that way. Incapable. But comforting Stella feels good. Useful.

Idly, I run my fingers through her curls and stare at the ceiling.

The door buzzer goes off. Dr. Stern. Finally.

I move to let her in, but Stella clutches my hips. Her wide blue eyes, dull with fever, find mine. “Don’t leave me.”

Fuck. She’s breaking my heart. I cup her cheek. “Never, baby. I’m just getting the door, okay?”

She blinks, looking hazy and confused.

I kiss her temple. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

The second I lay eyes on Dr. Stern, I grab hold of her bag. “She’s in the bedroom.”

Stern follows me inside. “Calm down, Jax.”

“I’ll be calm when Stella is better.” I halt and spin to face Stern. “Shit. She has a sore throat, Doc. And some kind of pinkish rash on her neck. Could I have …” I run a hand through my hair. “What if I infected her?”

Stern’s eyes narrow. “You didn’t have unprotected sex with this woman while you were undergoing treatment, did you?”

“What? No! Fuck no. But we kissed once. Remember the grocery store incident I asked you about? The kissing bandit? That’s Stella.”

Stern shakes her head, and her voice softens. “Then you’ll remember that I said you can’t contract chlamydia through a kiss. Jax, the antibiotics did their job. We tested you. You’re clean. So unless you two have had some oral form of sexual contact …”

“No. Just that kiss.” I run a cold hand over my face. “I’m worried … Her throat is sore.”

Dr. Stern touches my arm. “Which could be caused by a number of things. I will test her if that’s what she wants.” Her expression turns serious. “But I’m going to need your friend’s permission to examine her, Jax. Though, between you and me, if you’re in a relationship with this woman, I would tell her about what happened.”

A weight settles in my chest and guts. “I should have told her from the beginning. I just …” I shrug, my shoulders tight. It feels like ants are crawling over my skin. “Look, can you suggest she get tested?”

Dr. Stern gives my arm a friendly squeeze. “Let me see her. High fever, rash, and a sore throat could indicate strep.”

I expel a sigh and take her upstairs and promptly forget about my own worries when I see Stella curled up on the bed looking weak and pitiful and in pain. Hurrying over, I scoop her up and settle her on my lap, cuddling her close. “Stella Button, the doctor is here. She’s going to help you.”

Stella rests her cheek on my chest. “Okay.”

She trembles, and I kiss her temple before looking at Stern. “Fix her, Doc. Fix her fast.”

Stern’s smile is clearly bemused. “She isn’t broken, Jax. Just sick.”

That might be true. But while Stella is hurting, nothing feels right.





Stella



* * *



There is being sick and there is being in hell. I am in the latter. Jesus wept, I want to beg for drugs. Just knock me out and wake me when I’m better.

My mind drifts, an ebb and flow of pain and heat and strange noises. I know John is with me. I feel the hard strength of his body next to the mushy, hot mass of mine. I hear his voice, his gorgeous smooth-as-amber honey voice telling me to drink, asking me to lift my arms as he slips a clean, cool shirt over my battered body, telling me that I will be better soon.

Ha. Lies. The pain in my throat is broken glass and slow-moving lava.

Still I cling to him. He is all that is safe and comforting in my aching world.

Then the doctor arrives. I didn’t know doctors even made house calls anymore. She tells me she’s the band’s personal physician. Part of me wants to laugh—of course Jax Blackwood would have a doctor at his beck and call. But I hurt too much and am too weak to do anything more than answer her questions with soft croaks that barely sound like real words.