“Not going.” Klein turned his face away, his stubbornness evident.
“You have to go, or your brain’s gonna fry.”
Klein remained quiet for a moment, then muttered, “It won’t fry. I’ll just take some medicine, and I’ll be fine.”
“Do you have a medicine kit?” Whitney asked, her tone firm.
“Downstairs. Under the coffee table in the living room.”
Without a second thought, Whitney dashed downstairs, locating the fever reducer before rushing back up with a glass of water in hand. “Here, take this.”
Klein parted his lips slightly, waiting expectantly, like he assumed she would feed it to him.
Whitney hesitated, her heart racing.
His lips were so pale they appeared bloodless, and she pushed aside her fears. She placed the pill on his tongue and carefully helped him drink, her hand steady under his as he swallowed.
Klein leaned back against the headboard, his eyes half-closed. “Thanks for going through the trouble of making soup for me.”
Whitney had almost forgotten about the soup in her worry. “Want me to help you drink some before you go back to sleep?”
Klein shook his head, tugging at his lips in a weak gesture. “I don’t have the strength.”
The hint was clear.
Whitney pressed her lips together, determination rising within her. “Then I’ll feed you.”
“Okay,” Klein replied quickly, as if afraid she might change her mind if he hesitated even a second longer.
Whitney carefully held the bowl, blowing on each spoonful until it was just warm enough, then gently fed it to him.
Klein merely had to keep opening his mouth and swallowing, and he relished every moment of her care.
Cracking one eye open, he watched her attentively, noting the seriousness of her demeanor. The slight furrow between her brows made his heart skip a beat.
*She seems upset today,* he thought, concern creeping in.
Whitney probably didn’t even realize it herself, but whenever something weighed on her, she’d furrow her brow just a little. It was so subtle that most wouldn’t notice.
Klein finished the entire bowl slowly, his gaze fixed on her without making it obvious. *Is she annoyed because she has to take care of me?* he wondered, but that didn’t seem quite right.
“Did work go okay today?” Klein asked, his voice hoarse as he tested the waters.
“It was fine,” Whitney replied flatly, her tone lacking its usual vibrancy.
If it wasn’t work, then it must have been Carter bothering her again. Klein’s eyes flickered with concern, and he decided to ask directly. “So why aren’t you happy today?”
Whitney froze, surprise flashing across her face. *He noticed my mood?*
“Or did someone give you a hard time?” Klein pressed, his voice gentle yet probing.
Whitney shook her head, looking down, her voice tinged with sadness. “No, I just miss Grandma. Sorry for bringing down the mood.”
Klein’s chest tightened at her words. He had messed up, mistakenly thinking the day was tomorrow.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice sincere.
Whitney looked surprised by his apology. “Klein, it’s okay. You don’t need to apologize.”
Patricia had been gone for over a month now, and Whitney only felt the pang of sadness at times.
Besides, she still hadn’t made the people who hurt Patricia pay for what they did.
Klein extended his hand, beckoning her closer. “Come here.”
Whitney didn’t fully understand, but her body moved toward him instinctively.
Klein wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close, while his other hand gently patted her head. “There, there. Don’t be sad.”
Whitney felt a sudden sting in her nose, tears threatening to spill.
Patricia used to do this too, softly stroking her head just like this.
“I’m fine,” she managed, her voice catching in her throat. “I just miss her.”
Klein’s gentle hand continued to move through her hair, patting softly again and again. “I know. I know.”
From this moment on, he vowed to protect her the way Patricia had once protected her.
“From now on, I’ve got you,” he promised, his voice steady and reassuring.
Whitney had only leaned against Klein for a fleeting moment, but as the warmth of their contact lingered, an unsettling realization washed over her. It was so out of character for her to act so intimately.
“Sorry, Klein. I think I got your pajamas a bit messy,” she mumbled, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment, her gaze darting away as if the floor suddenly held all the answers.
To her surprise, Klein, who had appeared so frail and unwell just moments before, now radiated a vibrant energy. A healthy blush adorned his cheeks, and the feverish warmth that had once enveloped his forehead seemed to have vanished.
Klein squinted playfully, a teasing smile creeping onto his lips. “It’s really not that bad. Just a little of your tears, and maybe some snot.”
Whitney was momentarily at a loss for words, her mind racing to defend herself. “There was no snot! Seriously, where is the snot?” she retorted, her indignation bubbling to the surface.
‘Come on, that’s not true!’ Whitney thought, feeling a sense of injustice wash over her.
“Alright, if you say so,” Klein responded, amusement dancing in his tone.
With a swift and confident motion, Klein peeled off his shirt, revealing a sculpted torso that left little to the imagination. His well-defined abs were now on full display, a sight that took Whitney completely by surprise.
She had never envisioned Klein possessing such a remarkable physique. His skin glowed with a sun-kissed tan, and the sight of him without a shirt was a revelation-a whole new level of allure that sent her heart racing.
Before she could even register her own reaction, Whitney felt a blush creeping up her cheeks, warmth flooding her face.
“Why aren’t you taking it?” Klein asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Or am I making you speechless?”
In a playful yet panicked moment, Klein pretended to pull the blanket down further, and Whitney instinctively turned her back to him, flustered.
Without looking, she waved her hand behind her, her voice slightly frantic. “Just give it to me! I’ll take it to the laundry room!”
Klein’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he replied, “Much appreciated.”
As soon as she grasped the shirt, Whitney dashed up the stairs to the third floor, her heart pounding in her chest.
Her breath came in quick gasps. ‘That was way too much for me,’ she thought, still feeling a whirlwind of emotions.
But halfway up the stairs, a nagging feeling tugged at her.
‘Who takes off their shirt in the middle of a conversation?’ Whitney pondered, trying to make sense of the situation.
‘Is this really a man with a fever?’ she wondered, her mind racing to reconcile the image of Klein with the reality of his earlier condition.
‘Wait, is he the one with a fever, or am I just losing my mind?’ Whitney thought, feeling increasingly flustered.
Klein lay there, unabashedly shirtless, even pulling the blanket down just a bit more, as if to tease her further.
As she reached the third floor, she shook her head, trying to dispel the confusion swirling in her mind.
“Klein, aren’t you feeling cold?” Whitney asked, her voice tinged with awkwardness as she re-entered the room.
Klein, quick to seize the moment, coughed lightly and said, “Hey, could you grab me some pajamas from my closet?”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.