Chapter 15
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Maeve checked the thermometer–it read nearly 102 degrees Fahrenheit. With a fever that high, he’d definitely need a hospital. But then she remembered how much Byron hated hospitals, and there was no way she could drag him there on her
own.
Luckily, she found some fever reducers at home. After getting him to take the medicine, she filled a basin with warm water and began wiping his body down to help lower his temperature.
“You better not blame me when you wake up,” she muttered, taking advantage of Byron’s unconscious state to speak her mind. “I didn’t mean to touch you, but if I don’t do something, you might end up with brain damage and turn into a vegetable. Then I’d really be screwed…”
Maybe it was the medicine, but an hour later, Maeve checked Byron’s temperature and saw it had dropped a bit.
To stay on top of things, she set an alarm to wake herself every two hours for another check. She kept this up until morning, when sheer exhaustion finally claimed her, and she drifted off to sleep.
Not long after, Byron woke to a dull ache in his temples and slowly opened his eyes. The throbbing was still there, but it wasn’t as fierce as it had been the night before. He noticed his abdominal wound had been re–dressed, and it felt much better, with no real discomfort.
He rubbed his temple and turned his head to see Maeve sleeping beside the bed, her head resting on the edge. His expression softened a little.
Here was the same woman who had vowed to stop caring about him, yet she had spent the entire night tending to him. Byron’s face betrayed a flicker of conflicted emotion. ‘If this is just an act, then she’s a damn good actress,’ he thought.
When Maeve woke up, Byron was already gone. She mused, ‘He just got over a fever, and his wounds are barely healed, yet he’s off to work? That’s some serious dedication. But honestly, it was probably for the best. Running into him would’ve been awkward as hell.’
The memory of last night’s forced kiss flashed through her mind, making her head pound.
During her lunch break, Maeve gathered her things and caught a taxi home. Scott had taken the day off just to be there when she arrived.
“You’re back? Your mom filled me in on the details. So, is this whole ‘married‘ thing just a way to get under Jeff’s skin?” Scott asked, sipping his coffee with a nonchalant air.
Maeve knew they wouldn’t take her word for it, so she’d come prepared with her marriage license. She pulled it from her bag and flipped it open for her father to see. “I’m not just trying to get under anyone’s skin. I’m really married.”
The official stamp on the marriage license caught Scott’s eye instantly. His face went from calm to thundercloud in a heartbeat. With a furious motion, he slammed the coffee cup onto the floor, sending shards scattering at Maeve’s feet.
“What the fuck?” Scott bellowed, his face bright red with anger as he rose from his seat. “Who the hell gave you permission to marry without our say–so? Do you even realize the mess you’ve just made for us and the Graves family?”
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