"Where does it hurt?"

"I don't know."

Had Zoey not felt his forehead burning up, she would have thought he was faking it.

She called their family doctor, urging him to come over quickly, and then she helped Nolan get to his room to rest.

Nolan was worried about Fitch, too restless to sleep.

Zoey tucked him in gently. "It's okay, I'm taking care of him. Once the doctor arrives and you've had your medicine, you'll feel better. Try to get some sleep, kiddo. You shouldn't stay up late." Nolan nodded, his hands obediently under the covers.

Zoey had the doctor check on Nolan before, and his condition had improved a lot, especially after seeing Zoey. Though he didn't talk much, his bright eyes showed he was happy.

She turned off the light and closed the door behind her, heading downstairs to replace Fitch leaning on the couch, his forehead slick with sweat. Feeling her sit down, he instantly leaned towards her.

The doctor arrived promptly, his brow furrowed after a quick examination. "The gentleman seems to be overly stressed. Let's help him to bed to rest, a drip might help see if the fever subsides by tomorrow." Zoey nodded, assisting Fitch to the master bedroom along with the doctor.

She bent down to take off his suit jacket and shoes, the doctor tactfully turning away.

As Zoey began to loosen Fitch's belt, he suddenly grabbed her hand. "Honey, why are you undoing my belt?"

"You're sick, you need to lie down."

"But I haven't showered, I smell like booze."

"I'll wipe you down in a bit."

"I haven't brushed my teeth."

"Always something," Zoey muttered, apologetically glancing at the doctor. "Sorry, I'll take him to brush his teeth."

The doctor, busy setting up the IV stand, said, "No worries, ma'am. Pretend I'm not here."

He didn't glance at Zoey and Fitch at all while speaking.

Relieved, Zoey supported Fitch to the bathroom.

His cheeks were flushed from the fever as he clumsily started to brush his teeth.

"Take it easy," she scolded lightly upon seeing him almost spill over, frowning as he splashed water everywhere. "Gently, you're making a mess."

He lowered his lashes, suddenly compliant. "Sorry."

Zoey was taken aback, saying nothing more.

He was clearly delirious from the fever.

After getting him settled in bed, concerned he'd fuss about needing a shower, Zoey decided to wipe him down herself.

He watched her intently for a minute, holding her hand.

"Let go."

"Honey, you're so kind."

After saying that, he let go.

Once Zoey had cleaned him up, she turned to the doctor, "We can start the IV now."

The doctor promptly set up the needle and took out an antipyretic. "Ma'am, it's rare for your husband to have such a fever. After I leave, try to get him to take this pill. I'm worried the fever won't break by morning, and he might have to be hospitalized." "Okay, thank you."

After the doctor left, Zoey brought a glass of water over, helping Fitch sit up.

"Fitch, open up, take this pill."

His cheeks were still flushed, his lips cracked from the fever.

She managed to get the pill in his mouth, following it with some water.

But, unusually stubborn, he spat the pill out as soon as it touched his tongue.

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