22. Not Leaving

22

Not Leavin g

Auston

Yesterday was torture. Just when I thought things with Emma were moving in the right direction, we took three steps back. I was sure she was going to let me kiss her. Maybe making a move after talking about our past wasn’t such a good idea. I hurt her back then. More than I realized at the time. She may pretend otherwise, but I see the pain I inflicted on her, and I don’t know how to fix it.

She’s still asleep when I wake up—well, “wake up” isn’t exactly the word I’d use since I barely slept. I couldn’t stop tossing and turning, slipping the co vers on and off, unable to bear the heat despite the AC being set on “cool.”

I quietly crawl out of bed, grab my tracksuit and sneakers, and slip into the hallway. Maybe some fresh air will do me good.

When I reach the elevator, I come across Cillian emerging from his room. His sudden appearance makes me jolt.

“Dude!” I place a hand on my heart as I step into the elevator. “You scare me sometimes, you know that? Do you have a tracker implanted in my neck or something?”

He rolls his eyes as the elevator descends to the ground floor. “Relax. I’m just going for a run.”

“Me too.”

The elevator doors slide open.

Cillian gets out, then stops, one eyebrow arched. “Race you to the beach? For old times’ sake.” We used to run every day but with my schedule getting so hectic, we had to stop.

“Please.” I scoff. “I’m a grown man. I’m not going to race y—” Then, I break into a run. I know, I know. It’s a low blow, but Cillian is military-trained. I needed to balance the scales.

Except he still wins, looking back at me with an annoying, smug grin.

Having reached the sand, we jog a long the beach, and my chest already feels lighter. I knew it was a good idea to come out here. I’m more relaxed after jogging for thirty minutes than I was after eight hours in bed.

We keep going for a while, then catch a break on a rock.

“Are you finally going to tell me what’s wrong?” Cillian asks, handing me a water bottle. “It’s Emma, isn’t it?”

“Why do you always say that?”

“Because it always is.” He laughs. “And you haven’t gone running this early in a while. Especially not during a shoot.”

“Fine.” I rake a hand through my hair. “Yeah, it’s Emma.”

“I don’t get it. I saw you grab snacks yesterday. I thought the faking thing was going your way.”

“Okay, now you’re really scaring me,” I say, shooting a side glance at him. “You need to stop taking your job so seriously.”

He just shakes his head.

“Well, it was going my way. Emma was opening up to me, and we were having a good time. But somehow, we ended up talking about the past again. She says she doesn’t care about what happened, but I can see in her eyes that I hurt her, and she won’t let me apologize.”

“Maybe she’s just not ready. If it was working up until then, just keep going, and feel it out. Don’t be too hasty.”

“I guess you’re right. It’s just . . . she’s so different. You should have seen her back in high school. So full of life. Now, every time I look at her, I see the pain in her eyes.”

“I’m sorry, lad.”

We stay seated on the rock a moment longer, watching the ocean and the seagulls soaring above.

“Race you back to the hotel?” he asks, clasping his hands.

I shake my head. “Hard pass.” Is this guy some kind of machine?

His eyes narrow. “Are you tricking me again?”

I bark out a laugh. “I wish. I’m way too tired.”

We end up walking back, and when we arrive, the hotel is fully awake, with most of the crew at breakfast. But I don’t spot Emma.

I wander back to the room. It’s still dark when I enter, so I let her sleep a few minutes longer while I shower.

When I step out of the bathroom, she’s still sleeping, and I do my best not to wake her. She doesn’t need to be on set, and I guess we were up kind of late yesterday.

I open the door as silently as possible to go down to breakfast.

“Auston?” Emma’s voice cracks.

I stop at the threshold, turning back. “Hey. Sorry, I tried to be quiet. But you can keep sleeping.”

“Auston,” she says again, but this time she sounds . . . weird. I close the door and walk to the bed. “I don’t feel so well,” she mumbles.

One look at her, and I immediately see something is wrong. Her skin is pale, her bangs are sticking to her forehead, and her eyes are red and glassy. Then, she starts shivering.

“Oh my, Emma. What's wrong?” I ask, sitting on the bed.

“I’m so cold.”

She shivers again, her body fully shaking now.

I pull off my shoes and get in bed with her, drawing her against me and running my hands along her arms to warm her up but she’s warm already, really warm. She leans against me, her pajamas damp. Worried, I touch her forehead. She’s burning up.

Crap . I grab my phone from my pocket, hitting one of my contacts. “Robyn,” I say when she picks up. “Please get a doctor to my room. Emma’s sick.”

Her voice is panicked. “Of course. Right away.”

I’m not really sure what to do next. I never get sick. So, I continue my attempts to warm her up. Water—maybe she should drink some water. Given how damp the bed is, she probably sweated a lot last night. I lean back to grab the bottle on my nightstand.

“Here, Emma. Drink.”

She sips some of it, but then she shakes her head and collapses back against me. Shoot. Where is that doctor?

After what seems like an eternity, someone knocks on the door. “It’s Dr. Levant.”

“Come in,” I call, then murmur to Emma, “Doctor’s here.” I get out of bed, laying her back down carefully before rushing to meet him.

“Morning, Doctor.” I shake his hand. “Thank you for coming so soon.” I briefly greet Robyn, who is trailing right behind him. Once inside, she goes straight for the curtains to let more light into the room.

“Absolutely.” He gives me a nod. “Emma, is it?” he asks, turning to her.

She nods weakly. “Hi.”

He sets his briefcase on the floor. “Let me see.”

Over the next few minutes, he takes the temperature in her ears, peers in her mouth, listens to her heart and lungs with a stethoscope, and takes her blood pressure.

“Okay,” he says, folding the cuff and placing it back in his bag. “Nothing serious. It’s most likely a virus, possibly the flu or a bad cold. I’ll write you a prescription, and you’ll need to rest up for the next few days.”

I sigh in relief as he walks to t he desk, picking up his prescription book and pen from his bag.

“Thank you,” I say.

“Just make sure she eats something, and keep her hydrated.” He signs the piece of paper and hands it to me.

“Will do, Doctor. Thank you.”

“Oh,” he adds, heading toward the door, “and if you don’t want to catch what she has, I suggest you keep your distance until she feels better.”

“Right.” I scratch my head. “Thank you.”

He waves goodbye to us, then leaves the room.

“Do you want me to go to the pharmacy?” Robyn asks, taking a step forward.

“Yes, please, Robyn.”

She casts me a reassuring smile. “Absolutely.”

“Emma,” I say, turning to her next. “You need to eat something. What do you want?”

“I’m not hungry,” she mutters in an uncharacteristically feeble voice.

“You heard the doc. You have to eat. Maybe some fruit? Or a cereal bar?”

She grimaces, and I turn to Robyn.

She nods. “I’ll bring her options. What about you?”

I offer her a faint smile. “I’m fine. Thanks, Robyn.”

She nods again, hustling out of the room.

“Auston?” Emma calls when the door closes, and my heart shoots up in my chest.

I hurry to her side. “I’m right here, Emma.” I swallow hard, kneeling by the bed. I’m not going anywhere.

We keep re-shooting this scene more times than I can count, and I’m getting restless for a break. I want to go up to the room and check on Emma. Hopefully, the drugs are working, and she’s eaten something. I fought with her earlier, but all she had was a bite of banana.

Clarence is now looking at his notes, frowning while June is actively trying to make a point.

I stride up to them, my feet sinking into the sand with every step. “What are we doing?” I ask, not bothering to hide my frustration.

Clarence signals to me that he’ll be just a moment. Meanwhile, Madison calls for yet another makeup retouch. Jill and Karen bustle over to her, and while they’re at it, they touch up mine too.

“What’s the big hurry? Is it about Emma?” Madison asks. “I heard she was sick. Hey, careful with that brush,” she snaps at Jill, who is clearly trying hard not to roll her eyes.

I take a deep breath. “Yeah, sh e is.”

“Aww. Sorry to hear that,” Madison says with mock concern. “But if you don’t want to catch whatever she has, you can always bunk with me.”

“I’m good, thanks,” I say through gritted teeth. I’d rather catch Emma’s cold than sleep in Madison’s room any day. She’d just take the opportunity to snap pictures of us in bed or something.

“Hold on,” Clarence's voice booms behind me. “What’s this about Emma being sick?”

Crap . Madison’s lips break into a smile. So that’s why she expressed concern for Emma so vocally.

“That’s right. She’s not feeling well,” I tell Clarence. “But the doc came, and she has some meds. It’s under control.”

“Good.” He nods. “But Madison’s right. You shouldn’t sleep in that room. If you get sick, production will be impacted.”

I wave a hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry. You know me; I never get sick.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to end up with an epidemic on my hands. You’re a producer on this movie. It’s your money on the line too.”

As if I cared about money.

“But—”

“I’ll ask Stuart if two crew members can bunk together so you can have your own room,” he says with a nod. Naturally, Clarence picked up on the drama between Madison and me.

Still, I cross my arms. “I’m not leaving Emma. End of discussion. She’s here because of me, and she doesn’t have anybody. I’m not going to leave her in a room by herself, sick.”

Clarence breathes a dramatic sigh. “Fine. At the very least, wear a mask and gloves when you’re in the room.”

“Deal.”

Madison gives me a little smirk, but I don’t even care. All that matters right now is making sure Emma is okay.

When Clarence calls a break, Robyn brings me a box of surgical masks and gloves, and I hurry to the room. On the way, I spot a catering table with apricot applesauce cups and grab a couple. I remember Emma used to eat them at lunch.

When I get to the room, she’s sound asleep. She’s not shaking anymore, but she’s still pale, beads of sweat glistening on her brow. All the food Robyn brought earlier is still unopened. Sinking into the chair in the corner of the room, I wait. They can call me when they need me back on set. Until then, I’m not leaving Emma’s side.