December 24. Early on Friday morning, he was up making breakfast for his family. He hadn't slept much as he had to spend the night on the living room couch, but nervous energy had sent him to the kitchen. Unfortunately, Gretchen had again decided to skip out on coming home for the holiday to go to Maine with her boyfriend, and his parents were in a wretched mood about it. It was non-stop "ungrateful" this and "selfish" that comments. His second eldest sister Amy and her family had flown in from Wilmington, North Carolina, where her husband served as an officer with the Coast Guard. The oldest Witter child, Carrie, drove down from Bedford with her husband and kids. Doug was working a holiday shift, but he would be at the house sometime after five o'clock.
It wasn't long before large pans of sausage, home fries, and scrambled eggs were cooking on the stove. Homemade biscuits were baking in the oven when his parents came in the kitchen.
"Pacey, what on earth?" his mother exclaimed.
"I fixed breakfast, Ma." He handed her a cup of hot coffee.
She smiled. "Thank you, honey."
His father stared.
"Um, you want some coffee, Pop?" he asked.
"Uh… sure, Pacey."
After handing him a steaming cup of black coffee, his father walked out of the kitchen without another word and turned on the television in the living room. Minutes later, the rest of his family were coming down the stairs. The children started running around the house, balls of pent-up energy, while his brothers-in-law joined his father in front of the TV. With some effort, his mother and sisters were soon able to corral everyone around the dining room table.
"The eggs don't taste like Mom's," said Amy from where she sat across the table.
"Well, I wasn't trying to get them to taste like Mom's," he said dryly. "So, I guess I succeeded. Thanks, Amy."
She rolled her eyes. Amy was twelve years older than him and had moved out of the house before he finished kindergarten. At seventeen, she ran away from home to get married, and to get away from their parents. She'd spent most of his life married and out of the house, moving all over the country with her husband wherever he was stationed, and they didn't have much of a relationship.
He passed the pitcher of orange juice to Carrie and then glanced at his father apprehensively, who was quietly buttering a biscuit. He watched his father take a bite and then put a fork to his eggs and home fries, looking for any sign he was enjoying the food, desperate as ever for a crumb of approval. The children laughed and fooled around, their mothers encouraging them to sit still and eat. His brothers-in-law talked about football.
"Thanks for making breakfast, Pacey," Carrie said kindly. "It's really good."
"Yeah, it's really good," her kids chimed in simultaneously.
"Thanks," he smiled.
The Sheriff took a sip from his coffee and nodded. "Good job, Pacey."
He swallowed, his stomach tightening. Did he really just get a compliment? "Thank you, Dad."
"I used to think you were destined to pump gas for a living, especially after those last two report cards you brought home," his father mocked. "But now I think you could probably get a job flipping burgers at McDonald's. So, you've got that to look forward to after high school."
His heart sunk within him and he frowned. Typical. His family laughed around the table. His mother reached over and patted his hand sympathetically while looking at his father. "John, we need to be supportive." She turned to him. "Well, then you'll just be the very best burger-flipper they ever had, won't you, honey?" She smiled sweetly.
"Thanks for the support, Ma," he deadpanned. How was this his life? He couldn't wait to get the fuck away from these people and never come back.
The phone rang. "Who the hell is calling on Christmas Eve?" his father barked. Carrie got up to answer it and moments later returned to the living room. "It's Bessie Potter," she announced. "She wants to talk to Pacey."
He jumped up from the table, desperate to get away, and hurried into the kitchen. Lifting the receiver from the counter, he said, "Hello?"
"Hi, Pacey. It's Bessie."
"What's up? I thought you were going to Boston?"
"I was, but… Well, I am. I just have a bit of a dilemma. You know we were all supposed to go up to the city to spend the holiday with Bodie, but Joey is awful sick with the flu and a sinus infection on top of it. I wanted to take her to the Emergency Room yesterday, but she refuses to set foot in a hospital. I managed to get her in to see the family doctor, thankfully."
He gulped, his stomach tightening with worry. "Is she gonna be all right?"
"Oh, yeah. He gave her medicine for the sinus infection, and the flu, well… It's a virus—it's just gotta work its way out of her system, but it'll probably be a few days before she feels better. I don't want to get the flu, and I especially don't want Alexander to get it. Bodie can't come here because of work. It's been weeks since we've seen him, and I don't want to keep his son away from him on Christmas. But I don't want to leave Joey alone either."
"Yeah."
"I was going to call Mitch and Gail and see if I could send her to their house and they could look after her, but Joey refused. I doubt she could get herself out of the house and into a car, anyway. But I'm worried to leave her by herself in case she gets worse. I told her she can't be left alone, that she needs someone to take care of her. She told me to call you."
His heart fluttered happily in his chest and he smiled into the phone. "What do you need me to do?"
"Can you spend the weekend here with Joey? I hate to tear you away from your family, but I don't know what else to do. Have you had a flu shot?"
"Yeah. My mom took me to get one in October."
"So… do you think your parents will let you come over for a couple days? I'll be back Sunday morning."
"I'll be over there as soon as I can, Bessie."
"Thanks a million, Pacey. You're a life-saver."
He hung up the phone and hurried back into the dining room. "Mom, Dad…"
His parents exchanged a look. "Go ahead, honey," his mother said. "I'm sure your friends want to see you."
"Thanks. Well, Joey's real sick actually and Bessie has to go to Boston. I'll be back on Sunday." He hurried out of the room and went up the stairs, taking two at a time. He quickly packed a duffel bag and came back down. "Mom, can I borrow the wagon?" he called out while in the hallway slipping on his shoes.
"Sure," she called back. "Be careful and drive safe. The roads are slippery."
"I will." He threw on his coat and grabbed the keys off the small table in the hall. "Merry Christmas," he shouted before going out the front door, closing it behind him.
When he arrived at the Potter's house, he found Bessie loading the old truck with bags and wrapped gifts. "Thank you so much, Pacey," she said in greeting.
He smiled. "Not a problem." He then nodded at the house. "The invalid is inside, I presume."
"Go on in," Bessie told him. "I know she'll be happy to see you."
He fought a grin, his heart swelling, and he walked up onto the porch before letting himself inside the house. A decorated Christmas tree stood out in the far corner of the living room. A few wrapped gifts remained beneath it. He found Joey on the couch, huddled beneath a blanket. She looked pale and weak. "Hey. How're you feeling?"
"I've been better," she mumbled.
"I'm sure that's one hell of an understatement. You look terrible, Jo."
"I feel terrible. My arms and legs ache, my throat is killing me, my head is pounding." She then started to cough when taking a deep breath. "And I have this…" She kept coughing. "This terrible cough." The coughing continued.
He shook his head. "I know this goes against every inclination you have, Potter, but stop talking." She glared at him. He grinned and then turned to set his duffel bag on a chair and remove his coat. Alexander came running into the room, and he quickly scooped him up in his arms and carried him into the kitchen.
Bessie then came inside. On the counter, she pointed to some pill bottles and other items. "This is her prescription," she explained. "She needs to take one pill every six hours. There's ibuprofen for pain relief and it'll also help with inflammation. Some over-the-counter stuff for her cough and congestion. Lozenges for her throat. In the cupboard there's herbal tea and honey. Make sure she eats and drinks as much as possible, even if she doesn't want to. She had a little oatmeal this morning. If she starts complaining of body aches, get her to soak in a hot bath. It'll help her sinuses, too."
She moved further along the counter. "Here's the thermometer. If she spikes a fever, give her some Tylenol and get her to soak in a bath of tepid water, not cold. Cold water will actually cause your body to warm up. If she gets the chills and starts shivering, get her to stop shivering as soon as possible—shivering will just make the fever rise—but don't use a lot of blankets because that kind of insulated heat will just make her worse. If she gets the chills, then just sit next to her and hug her until she stops shivering. Okay? You understand all that?"
"So, what kind of a patient is she?" He wondered if he could actually get her to do any of this stuff, not to mention how long before they started fighting.
"Terrible," Bessie smirked. "She's stubborn as a mule, and cries easily. And, just so you know, that old furnace stopped working again last night. Have fun. There's plenty of food in the house, but I've left twenty dollars here on the counter if you want to get pizza tonight. Bodie's number is on the fridge. Call me if there's an emergency, and by emergency, I mean the house has burned down or someone died, okay?" She then carried Alexander out of the kitchen, saying goodbye to her sister as she hurried out the door.
After setting the kettle on to boil and fixing a cup of hot tea, he walked back over to the couch and gazed down at his friend. He set the cup on the table in front of the couch. "Tea with lemon and honey," he said. "Drink."
"I'm sorry I've ruined your Christmas," Joey mumbled up at him, her lower lip quivering with emotion.
"Are you kidding, Potter? You rescued me from my family. I'd rather spend Christmas with you anytime." She gave him a half smile. "I hope you feel better by the Y2K party next week," he said. "I expect it to be the event of junior year, or maybe the only event if the world ends."
Smiling weakly, she reached for the cup of tea and took a sip. "Hot." She cleared her throat, her voice hoarse and raspy. "I hope so. We're all still going together, right?"
"Dawson's picking everyone up, as far as I know. His car can fit all of us."
"So, you and Andie going to a party together…"
He shrugged. "No, it's the six of us all going together because we're all friends." She gave him a look. "Okay, so, me and Andie are working on being friends…" He paused. "Well, being friendly, anyway."
Joey frowned and laid back down on the couch, sighing as if exhausted.
"I'm gonna go fix you something to eat. You have to promise me you'll eat."
She gazed up at him with a look of suspicion. "What are you going to make?"
He smiled. "Chicken soup, the perfect comfort food. You can have some for lunch."
"We don't have any canned soup in the house."
"Canned?" He gave her an affronted look. "I can make a wicked pot of soup, Joey."
She frowned. "I guess I can plan on having food poisoning on top of everything else."
"Look who's got jokes," he deadpanned. "I'll have you know that I know my way around a kitchen. When you're often forced to fend for yourself due to parental neglect, you learn a few things. Just relax, Jo. Drink your tea. You rest, and I'll go cook."
He went and busied himself in the kitchen. He found a large pot and rummaged through the refrigerator and cupboards for ingredients. He then got to slicing and dicing. It wasn't long before soup was simmering on the stove. When he returned to the living room, he found Joey had fallen asleep. Noticing the empty cup on the table, he smiled. Reaching into his duffel bag, he took out two wrapped gifts and placed them under the tree in the corner of the room. He then took a seat in the chair next to the couch and flipped on the TV, keeping the volume low while he watched National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation.
After a while, he dozed off. His eyes opened as the credits were rolling on the movie. He got up to check on the soup, stirring the pot and adding a bit more salt and pepper. Back in the living room, he walked over to check on Joey. She still slept but she moaned softly. Her hairline was drenched in sweat. He placed his hand on her forehead. She was burning up. He went back to the kitchen counter, grabbed the thermometer, and hurried back to the living room. "Joey, wake up. You gotta sit up for me. I need to take your temperature." Her eyes fluttered open and she moaned again, this time louder. She then mumbled, "I'm fine." Her stubbornness made his mouth curve into a smirk in spite of his worry. "Yes, I can see that, Potter."
Removing the fleece blanket, he could see the collar of her pajama top was also drenched. His stomach tightened with alarm. "Okay, I mean it. I have to sit you up." After helping her into a sitting position, he shook the thermometer to activate it and then stuck it under her tongue. He couldn't remember how long he was supposed to keep it there. He began timing. Fifteen seconds. Thirty seconds. One minute. Was that long enough? He let it stay in her mouth another twenty seconds, just in case. When he pulled it out, the temperature read 102.5°. Shit.
He left her on the couch and returned to the kitchen counter. He dispensed two Tylenol into his palm and then got a glass of cold water. When he returned to her side, he got her to drink them down. "Joey, if your fever gets worse, I might have to take you to the Emergency Room."
"No hospitals, Pacey."
"But there's only so much I can do for you here. If your fever gets any higher, I might have to."
She adamantly shook her head, and to his surprise, her eyes became wet with tears. "No hospitals," she repeated, her hoarse voice now emotional. "Promise me, Pacey."
He sighed and nodded in agreement, unsure whether that was the right thing to promise. Two hours later, he retook her temperature and it hadn't gone down. His worry increased. After getting three ibuprofen and another glass of cold water down her, he made a decision. "Okay, Joey. Here's what we're gonna do. I'm going to put you in the bath."
"I don't think so," she croaked. "Over my dead body."
"It might come down to that," he snarked. He then crossed his arms. "Potter, either I put you in the tub or I put you in the car and drive you to the hospital," he stated, in a tone that brooked no argument.
She pouted, whimpering. "That's the spirit," he praised, before heading to the brand-new upstairs bathroom. He began filling the clawfoot tub with lukewarm water and then placed a towel on the counter. Returning downstairs, he walked into Joey's bedroom and opened her closet, where he found a bathrobe hanging on the back of the door.
Once he returned to the living room, he leaned over and scooped her up off the couch and began carrying her. She hugged her arms around his neck, and her mumbled, "I'm so cold, Pacey," made his stomach tighten even more with worry. As he carried her upstairs, she felt like an oven in his arms.
When they reached the bathroom, he set her down on her feet, but she needed to lean against him. "Are you wearing anything underneath your pajamas?" he said, trying not to think too hard about what he'd just asked.
"Are you coming on to me?" she croaked.
He snorted. "As irresistibly sexy as you are in this state, no. But maybe some other time. I wouldn't want to disappoint you."
She rolled her eyes and sighed. "I have underwear on." She reached up and felt her breasts. His eyes went wide, his face becoming flushed. "And a bra, too."
"Uh… Well. Okay, good. Can you undress yourself or do you need help?" He was almost afraid to ask.
She paused, thinking. He noticed she was still leaning against him for support. "I… I don't know." Her face crumpled. "This is so embarrassing, Pacey." Tears filled her eyes again. "I don't want you to see me like this."
Oh, good lord. "Okay, look. You don't have to get naked. I'll help you with your pajamas and then you can just get in the tub with your underwear on. I promise I won't look at anything unless I have to. Okay? It's either that or the hospital."
Joey grumbled. "Fine." She began unbuttoning her plaid pajama top. He saw the edge of her white bra and looked away. Once she undid the last button, she turned and put her back to him. He helped her push the top off her shoulders and down her arms. It fell to the floor. While keeping his hands on her upper arms for support, she loosened her pajama bottoms and they too dropped to the floor. He kept his eyes on the back of her head. He then helped her into the tub, where she eased herself down into the lukewarm water, leaning forward and hugging her knees to cover herself, putting her back to him.
"You need to lie down in the tub," he told her, trying not to stare at her bra clasp. "You gotta submerge your whole body, Jo. You're burning up. I'll be back to check on you in a while. Call me if you need me."
She nodded, not voicing a reply, and he left, keeping the door ajar. Forty-five minutes later, he returned to the bathroom. Pushing open the door, he immediately noticed her wet bra and underwear had been tossed onto the floor. "Knock, knock," he said, announcing his presence. "You ready to come out?"
"Yeah, I'm feeling a little better," she answered.
He stepped inside the room and went to the counter, fighting the urge to gaze at her while she sat in the tub. He grabbed her bathrobe and walked over to the clawfoot. "Do you need help to stand up?" He wasn't sure how he wanted her to answer that.
"I think I can manage, Pacey."
Holding the robe up high and staring down at the floor, he blocked his view of her. He listened as she rose from the water and stepped out of the tub. She ran her arm through one sleeve and he helped bring the robe over her other shoulder. She tied it around her waist as he began draining the tub.
"You feeling hungry? The soup's ready."
"A little," she replied.
They walked back down the hall and towards the staircase. "I may need to lean on you going down the stairs," she told him.
He smiled. "You can lean on me whenever you need to, Potter."
Joey gazed at him tenderly. Then with his arm around her, they descended the stairs. When they were back down, he waited outside her bedroom door while she dried off and changed into a fresh set of pajamas. She soon emerged, and they returned to the living room. Once again on the couch, he covered her with the fleece blanket. He then retook her temperature. "All right, Potter. One hundred and one. We're moving in the right direction." Heading over to the stereo, he put on a CD of holiday music. He walked into the kitchen and dished up a bowl of chicken soup.
He carried the bowl over to Joey, along with a spoon, and set it down on the coffee table. With some effort, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. It was obvious she wouldn't be able to lean over the table. He lifted the bowl. "Can you hold this in your lap?"
She sighed. "I can't eat right now, Pacey. Maybe later."
"Joey, you have to eat." He gazed over her. She looked pale and weak. The trip upstairs and back had exhausted her. After dipping the spoon into the bowl, he brought it to her mouth. She gave him a look of surprise, and then embarrassment, shaking her head. "Come on, Jo. Eat. Please?"
He again brought the spoon to her mouth. She hesitated, stubborn as ever, but then took a tiny taste off the end of the spoon. Her eyes closed as she tasted it. She gave a hum of approval and then took another taste. His heart swelled. "My dad used to make me soup when I was sick," she spoke quietly. "This is really good, Pacey. It's nice to have a man cook for me again." He smiled, the butterflies once again kicking it into high gear. Then one spoonful at a time, he fed her the soup until he'd emptied the bowl. By then, Joey's eyes were half-closed, and she leaned back against the couch. "I'm so tired."
He rose and brought the empty bowl back to the kitchen, setting it down in the sink. When he returned to the living room, she had laid back down on the couch, her head on a pillow. He covered her with the blanket, and let her sleep. Turning on the TV again, he kept the volume low while watching Home Alone.
Later that evening, he plugged in the Christmas tree, its lights twinkling in the living room. Then he got on the phone and ordered a large pepperoni-and-cheese pizza. Once it arrived, he returned to Joey on the couch and they sat side by side, eating and watching television. It's a Wonderful Life came on. She was done after one slice, and leaned back against the couch. When he finished eating, he brought their plates and the pizza box to the kitchen, before rejoining her on the couch. He lifted his arm towards her, feeling her face and forehead with the back of his hand.
"You're still really warm," he said. Then he retrieved the thermometer and her medicine from the kitchen counter. After retaking her temperature, he sighed. "One hundred point five. Better, but not great. Still moving in the right direction, though." He leaned back against the couch, his arm brushing against hers. He stared at the TV screen. George Bailey was standing on a bridge, about to jump into the freezing water and kill himself, when Clarence, his guardian angel, arrived to save him.
"I'm glad you're here, Pacey," Joey murmured hoarsely. He turned to look at her. Her eyes inexplicably filled with tears, her voice suddenly becoming thick with emotion. "It's nice to be taken care of."
The butterflies were back. "So… why me? You could've gone to the Leery's house, or Dawson could've come here. Why did you tell Bessie to call me?"
She shrugged and chewed on her lip, her eyes shiny and wet with unshed tears. "I figured if anyone wouldn't mind being away from their family on Christmas, it'd be you," she said quietly.
"And that's the only reason?" He was fishing, he knew, but he couldn't help it. He watched her mouth quiver as she tried to hold back the tears.
She stared down at her lap. "I like having you around. It makes me feel—I don't know—safer? I honestly haven't felt safe since my mom died and my dad... Well, anyway. And it's nice not to feel alone on Christmas." Her tears began to brim over, and she quickly brushed them away.
He smiled sadly, wishing she wouldn't say such things to him, wishing he hadn't asked. "Damn, Potter. I had no idea you get so emotional when you're sick."
She sniffled and laid her head on his shoulder. "You're a really great friend, Pacey," she whispered tearfully. "You're my best friend these days."
Stomach tightening, he scoffed nervously. "That's your fever talking."
She didn't reply. After a while he glanced down to see her eyes had drifted closed. He watched her steady breathing for a moment before lifting his arm and wrapping it around her. She snuggled closer, her arm going around his waist, and he covered them with the fleece blanket. Putting his feet up on the coffee table, he leaned back and watched the rest of the movie while she slept.
His eyes fluttered open. The cold light of morning shone through the living room windows. The Christmas tree was still lit. An infomercial was on the television screen. He looked down to see Joey's head was in his lap and his left hand was in her hair. He brushed some tendrils from her forehead, relief filling him when he realized she wasn't nearly as warm as the night before. Taking a deep breath, and stretching as best he could so as not to disturb her, he looked around the room and got his bearings. It's Christmas!
Very slowly and very carefully, he slid out from under Joey's head, replacing his lap with a pillow, and pulled the blanket over her shoulder. She moaned softly at the change and he froze, hoping he didn't wake her. Then she curled up and lightly snored. He laughed under his breath and walked away from the couch, heading for the kitchen. He soon had bacon and scrambled eggs sizzling on the stove, and a kettle of water boiling.
"Is that bacon I smell?" Joey called out hoarsely from the other room.
He chuckled. "Yep," he called back.
She grinned as she walked into the kitchen and sat at the table. "I could eat."
Smiling, he nodded. "You're looking better than last night."
"I feel a little better, thanks."
He removed the kettle from the stovetop and poured the water into two cups of cocoa. They then ate their breakfast in comfortable silence. While she sipped from her cup of hot chocolate, he glanced at the Christmas tree. "Do you want to open your gifts?" he asked her.
Joey pursed her lips, deciding. "They're from my sister and Bodie. I think I'd rather open them when Bessie gets back. I'm sorry you're not home to open presents with your family."
"I'm not," he said dryly. "I probably got a pair of socks and a blank job application to McDonald's."
She frowned sympathetically. A look of realization then dawned on her face, as if she'd just remembered something, and she grinned. "I do want to save my gift opening for when Bessie can be here, but we can go sit in front of the tree, anyway." She shrugged. "It's tradition."
They were soon back in the living room. A Christmas Story was airing on the television. They sat in front of the twinkling, glittering tree. "You got quite a few presents from Bessie and Bodie," he commented. "That was generous of them."
"Hmm… I don't think they're all for me," she hinted. "Maybe you should take a closer look."
His mouth curved into a smirk. Glancing over the boxes wrapped in shiny paper, his gaze soon fell on one labeled, "To Pacey, From Santa." He looked up at Joey in surprise and she smiled. As he started unwrapping the gift, he glanced at her and saw she was watching him with spellbound attention. Nerves fluttered in his gut.
Discarding the last of the wrapping paper, he lifted the lid of the box and peered inside. His eyes widened in shock. "Oh, my God," he whispered and looked up at Joey.
She beamed. "Just a few items we thought you'd need when you embark on the True Love."
Reaching into the red-tissue-paper filled box, he pulled out a pair of water shoes, two dry bags, and a stainless-steel rigging knife with a tiny sailboat engraved on the side. "This is completely unexpected. Thank you so much."
"Thank Bessie," she said, taking another sip from her hot chocolate. "And there's more."
"More?" He arched his brows. He then went digging in the box and pulled out a Casio Sport Watch. His mouth fell open and he felt his face turn bright red. "You didn't," he gasped.
She laughed. "I didn't. Bodie did. We really appreciate everything you've done to help us, Pacey. Bodie, especially, since he couldn't be here. He's really grateful for all the work you've put into the B&B, and just being there for Bessie and Alexander and me over the past few months."
He stared down at the watch. "I can't believe this."
"It's waterproof," she told him excitedly. "It has an altimeter, a barometer, and a thermometer. It has a stopwatch and a countdown timer. It's also solar-powered, which will come in handy while you're out on the open water, and when fully charged, the battery will last six months without needing to go into the sun again."
He shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know what to say. I can only say thank you, and Bodie's not even here."
She chewed on her lip. "Um… there's more."
He stared at her. "More than this?"
"Just one more." She gazed at him, her eyes sparkling.
Butterflies in his stomach, he reached into the box again and rummaged through the tissue paper. His hand closed around a small wrapped box. Lifting it out, he quickly removed the snowflake wrapping paper to reveal a square, brown leather case. He opened it and gasped. Inside was an antique-style brass compass with an attached chain. He slowly took it out of the case and flipped it open. He saw the needle behind a glass cover and began rotating the compass in his hand to make it spin. He closed the compass and opened it again, amazed at such a gift. He then noticed some writing on the back of the compass; there was an inscription.
Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined. ~ Thoreau
A lump of raw emotion formed in his throat at her thoughtfulness. He swallowed against it as hot tears pricked his eyes, and felt another flush redden his face. He looked up at her, dumbstruck. Their eyes met and held, and there was a tightness in his chest. Her gaze was tender, and just the smallest hint of a smile played on her lips. "You're welcome," she breathed.
He was speechless; all he could do was stare at her. When he recovered from the shock, he found his voice. "Joey," he said nervously, feeling unworthy to be the recipient of such a personal gift. "You shouldn't… This must've cost… How did you…?" He sighed. "How can I even begin to thank you?"
She smiled, her eyes sparkling. "Well, Mr. Logan of Logan's Marina owed me one after I sent him a scathing letter about his son's behavior towards me while employed there. One of the things he offered me to avoid a sexual harassment lawsuit was the pick of any one item in his nautical shop up in Provincetown. Bessie and I took a drive up there a few weeks ago. I saw the compass and…" She shrugged her shoulders. "I asked if they could do an inscription, and they did."
"I can't even put into words…" Gratitude and affection filled his heart. "I'm truly touched. Thank you, Joey."
She blushed, and averted her eyes from his, glancing at the tree. Her gaze then fell on the gifts he'd laid there the day before. His face burned, and he reached to grab them away, but she got to them faster. He sighed and watched as she opened the first wrapped box. "This must weigh ten pounds, Pacey."
Discarding the wrapping paper, her eyes widened as she pulled out a box of dark wood. She slowly ran her hand over the smooth surface. She undid the locking clasps and opened it, revealing a plethora of art supplies. There were coloring pencils, oil pastels, watercolors, brushes, drawing pencils, along with a pad of watercolor painting paper and a sketch book. "Oh, Pacey," she sighed, gazing over the supplies. "Thank you. This is so nice of you." She looked up at him with a tender gaze. "I'll put it to good use."
He smiled, his heart swelling inside his chest.
"I can't believe you got me two gifts," she then exclaimed happily, picking up the smaller and lighter one of the presents.
"It's nothing, really." After the gifts he'd just received, what he'd gotten her was laughable. He suddenly felt like a fool. "Please don't open it. It was honestly kind of a joke. Just forget about it, or I'll get you something different."
"What do you mean?" She frowned. "I want both my gifts."
Feeling embarrassed, he raised his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. She opened the second present, wrapped in the same shiny red paper dotted with snowmen. He watched as her lips parted and her eyes lit up. She then started giggling and lifted the teddy bear with a red bow tied around its neck from the discarded wrapping. "I love it."
"It's stupid," he lamented.
"No, it's not! It's sweet. At least you spent money on my gifts. I got yours for free because I threatened to sue my former employer."
He chuckled and watched as her fingers touched the red and gold ribbon. Her brows then knitted, and she tilted her head to the side, studying it. "Um… Pacey, did you know there's writing on the ribbon?"
He swallowed. "Writing?"
"Yeah. The gold here? They're words."
His stomach tightened and his brows arched. "Words? I thought it was just a fancy design. I guess I didn't look too closely. What does it say?"
Joey blushed, and pursed her lips. "Be my sweetheart."
He burst out laughing, a sense of panic rising within him. His arm swung out to snatch the teddy bear, but she quickly pulled it back, keeping it out of his reach. "Don't take my bear."
"I'll get you something else, Jo. This is silly."
"But I want it!"
He felt himself getting even redder in the face. His jaw clenched. "I had no idea the ribbon said that, Potter. If I had known, I never would've given it to you."
She scowled. "I know." He thought she almost seemed disappointed by that, or maybe he just hoped she was. "But I still want it, Pacey. It's the thought that counts. If it makes you feel better, I'll take the ribbon off and put it on one of Alexander's stuffed animals. Happy now?"
"Yes," he huffed. He told himself it was true.
Silence hung in the air between them. He should've known they wouldn't be able to go twenty-four hours without fighting.
"Well, I'm going to get some more hot chocolate," she croaked, before going into another coughing spell.
"I'll do that," he told her. "You go and rest on the couch."
She did as he said without protest and he returned to the kitchen, putting the kettle on to boil. He soon returned to the living room with another mug of hot cocoa. He then kept quiet, watching Joey throughout the rest of the day, taking her temperature, making sure she took her medicine and got enough to eat and drink. A thousand unspoken words remained unsaid between them.
In the afternoon, the temperature dropped. He chopped wood, and managed to find lighter fluid and some old newspapers in the shed out back. After he lit a fire in the living room hearth, Joey abruptly shut off the TV. "I'm sick of Christmas movies," she mumbled. "There's only so many times I can watch Bing Crosby sing 'White Christmas' before I want to tear my hair out." He chuckled. She sighed and lay down on the couch, pulling the blanket over her shoulders.
Her eyes half-closed, she threw him a shy smile. "Pacey, would you read to me?" she asked weakly.
Butterflies filled his stomach again. He wished they'd quit. "Sure. What do you want me to read?"
"The dictionary," she snarked. "What do you think? A book. You can go to my room and get a book, any book."
When he reached her bedroom, he glanced over the bookshelf. There were so many books. His eyes soon fell on Little Women. A faded memory stirred, something having to do with Mrs. Potter. He pulled the book from the shelf and returned to the living room. Joey's eyes widened at the sight of the book and she smiled. He sat down in the chair beside the couch and began to read.
For the next few hours he read aloud, changing his voice for each of the characters, making his voice go all squeaky and soft when reading the March sisters. Joey would giggle on the couch. After he reheated some leftover pizza and gave her more soup, he returned to the book, reading well into the evening. "It's so sad when Jo rejects his marriage proposal later," Joey sighed when he finished a chapter. "They grew up together. They're best friends. They're soulmates."
"Laurie?" He gave her a look of disbelief. "They would've ended up hating each other."
Her mouth fell open in shock. "Hating each other? Really, Pacey?"
He nodded. "Yeah. They're not compatible. They're great friends, but they would've been terrible lovers. It's obvious he wants their lives to stay the same, for things to be like this always. He may love Jo's spunk, but you just know the guy wants a traditional wife who will stay at home and cook for him and have his babies. She would've been suffocated. She's going to grow so far beyond him. I don't doubt he loves her, or that a part of Jo loves him too, but if she married him, she would've been miserable, and she knew it. She obviously has ambitions. Laurie doesn't challenge her. He's safe and predictable, and their life together would've been boring as hell. She wants more out of life than what he's capable of giving her."
Joey frowned, thinking over what he said. "But you go through the whole book expecting Jo and Laurie to end up together, even all the other characters expect it, and then you get to Chapter 35 and she rejects him. Then she falls in love with this man who comes out of nowhere and marries him."
"Gotta love a dark horse," he grinned. "A strong-willed woman like Jo March is perfectly within her rights to flout people's expectations."
She didn't reply. He glanced over at her. She had pulled the blanket up tight around her shoulders. He noticed her shivering. The fire in the hearth had died down. "I can go chop some more wood, if you're cold, Joey."
She sighed. "I'm actually really tired, Pacey. I don't want to spend another night on the couch. I think I want to go to bed."
He set the book aside, laying it on the coffee table. Retrieving the thermometer, he took her temperature again—it had climbed up to 101°. After he got her to take her last dose of medicine for the night, he helped her stand up from the couch. Holding the blanket tight around her, she took his hand and let him lead the way to her bedroom. She slid between the sheets. He pulled the comforter over her and then began to walk out of the room.
"Where are you going?" she whispered hoarsely.
"I was gonna take the couch," he said. "After I disinfect it."
"Ha. Ha." She paused. "Aren't you going to sleep in here?"
He hadn't slept on her floor in a while, not since before he'd first made the now-defunct casual sex agreement with Jen. And now things were different, his feelings were different, or at least he thought he now better understood what they were. Panic rose up inside him. "Uh… I wasn't planning on it."
"Please, Pacey?"
Sighing in defeat, he closed her bedroom door and returned to her bedside. One of these days he'd learn how to say no to her. She handed him a pillow and one of her blankets. After she turned out the light, he lay on the floor and stared up at the ceiling. He didn't know how he could feel so happy being around someone and feel lousy about it at the same time. The enigma that was their friendship dominated his thoughts, and sleep wouldn't come easily.
He thought he soon heard her teeth chattering.
"Pacey?" she murmured in the dark.
"Go to sleep, Joey. Your fever spiked and you need rest."
"But I'm cold."
"Sorry to hear that."
She sighed. "Aren't you cold? The floor must be freezing."
"You're right, it is. I should go out to the living room where it's still kinda warm."
She whimpered. "But I don't want to be alone."
Damn, she was needy when she was sick. "Then go back out to the couch. I'll add more wood to the fire. I think there might be a little lighter fluid left."
"But I wanna stay in bed," she whined. "It's way more comfortable."
"What do I have to do to get you to shut up and go to sleep, Potter?"
She sighed. "I just want to get warm. Can you go get some more blankets from the hall closet?"
Inwardly groaning, he got up off the floor, clenching his blanket in his hand. Shaking his head, remembered Bessie's words about the chills, he sighed, his stomach tightening with nerves, and got up onto the mattress.
"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded.
"You've got the chills and a fever, so I'm helping you get warm."
Her face was an angry scowl. "I said to get more blankets, Pacey, not get in bed with me."
Glaring, his jaw clenched. "I'm not getting in bed with you, Joey. I'm going to stay on top of the comforter, okay? Bessie warned me not use too many blankets when you have a fever, even if you have the chills. It will just make your fever worse. So, do you want to get warm, or don't you? I'll be more than happy to go back to the living room."
She hesitated, dropping her gaze from his. Grimacing, she turned and put her back to him, and lay back down, clutching the covers around her shoulder. "Fine."
He then lay down beside her on top of the covers, and pulled her flush against him as he draped his blanket over himself. Joey was shivering, but her overheated body warmed him and he sighed with content. She felt so good beside him. He wanted to wrap his arms around her. He wanted to press his face into her hair, her neck, and breathe in her sweet scent. She shifted backwards, trying to get closer to his warmth, her ass suddenly pressed against his groin. He then started to panic. Don't get hard, don't get hard, don't get hard, don't get hard... His heart was beating like the drummer in a marching band. The butterflies in his stomach were desperately trying to get out. He'd imagined—actually dreamt—this moment many times. Having Joey beside him felt so right, like it was where he belonged.
He quickly caught himself and frowned. He couldn't let her get under his skin any more than she already had. He couldn't allow their friendship to cross that line in the proverbial sand and become something else, something more. He'd been doing all he could to control his feelings, his urges, and it was becoming more and more difficult. He had to keep a tight rein on their relationship and himself, and needed to get a grip on his reactions to her.
Oh, who the hell was he trying to fool? He had control over nothing. He wanted her. He wanted her so bad he could taste it. She sparked something inside him like no one else he'd ever known. But he shifted away from her, once again creating much-needed space between their bodies. No matter how strong his attraction was to her, no matter how much his physical desires were driving him crazy with lust, he was bound and determined to never act on them. No good would come of it if he did. One, there was no possible way she felt for him what he felt for her, and two—most importantly—Dawson.
Joey soon stopped shivering, and her teeth stopped chattering. He had no idea when or how, but at some point, he fell asleep. The following morning, he got out of bed and retreated to the living room long before she woke up. He busied himself cleaning up the kitchen and the living room. Bessie soon arrived with Alexander, and Joey still hadn't gotten out of bed yet.
"Thank you so much for this weekend, Pacey. I can't begin to thank you. I mean, skipping out on Christmas with your family to take care of my sick sister…"
"I didn't mind, really. We had an okay time, even though she wasn't feeling good."
Bessie eyed him. "So, how much of a pain in the ass was she?"
He laughed. "Nothing I couldn't handle."
After Bessie thanked him again, he gathered up his duffel bag and put on his coat. He then stepped down the hallway and opened Joey's bedroom door just wide enough to look inside. She was sound asleep. He smiled sadly and then closed the door. He said goodbye to Bessie and then walked out the door, getting into the Witter wagon and heading home.