Chapter 12 · Her Apartment

"She's burning up." Cade had Maya against his chest, one hand fanned across her back like he could hold the fever in with his palm. "Avery. She's burning up."

"I know." I already had the thermometer out of the drawer, my hands shaking so bad I dropped the cap twice. "Put her on the couch. Not the bed, the couch, I need the light."

"She's shaking."

"I said the couch, Cade."

He moved. First time in five years he'd taken an order from me without a fight, and I didn't have time to enjoy it. I got the thermometer under Maya's arm and she whimpered, this thin, cracked sound that didn't sound like her at all, and Cade's jaw went so tight I heard his teeth grind.

"How high." Not a question. A demand.

"Wait."

"Avery."

"A hundred and three." I said it flat because if I said it any other way I was going to lose it in front of him, and I was not doing that. "Okay. Okay, that's — we do a lukewarm bath, we do Tylenol, we watch her. If it's not down in an hour we go in."

"We go in now.