Foul Ball

Macey called me the next morning to let me know that she wasn't feeling well, and that she might stay home from classes today. She ignored my pleas to skip practice and take care of her, insisting that she'd get better faster if she could just sleep, even if that meant sleeping alone.

"I might have to cancel dress shopping, too," she said, and even across the phone line, I could hear the fatigue-no, exhaustion-in her voice.

"Are you okay?" I asked, grabbing a protein shake from the fridge. "How did you know you were sick? Did you leave work early last night?" "Fatigue," Macey said. "Nausea. And yes, I did. I came home and crashed and didn't wake up until about four minutes ago. I'm so freaking tired." The flu, maybe?"

"Maybe. God, I hope I'm not pregnant," she teased, and it was my turn to feel the heat rush to my face. I actually had to stop and steady myself on the front door as I reached for the handle. "Pregnant?"

"I'm kidding, Jayce. I'm on birth control and we use condoms. I'll take a test, but I'm almost positive that isn't it."

"Can I do anything? Anything at all?"

"Yes. You can go to class and work hard. Just let me catch up on some sleep. I'll be better in a few hours."

"Are you sure? Macey, I can skip one of my classes and bring you chicken noodle soup."

"I much prefer clam chowder over chicken noodle," she said, and I could almost see her grinning over the phone. "Write that down."

"Mace."

"I promise, Jayce, I'm fine. I'll try to get up for dress shopping with the girls tonight if that makes you feel better. Maybe it's just one of those twenty-four-hour bugs."

"Fine, Macey." I trotted down the stairs to grab some coffee and a bagel before my next class, phone pinned to my ear, wishing she was here with me and not home, by herself, sick. "But if you need me for anything at all, just call. I will come to your aid."

"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, milady."