CHAPTER 55: TAKE OFF YOUR PANTS

Nick’s POV

I heard the sound of pounding... soft and rhythmic. I opened my eyes to find Georgia crouched near the fire. Steam curled from the can in front of her, carrying a scent that made my stomach twist. Whatever she was brewing, it wasn’t going to taste good.

She was still in her underwear, soaked from the rain. Beside her, a banana leaf overflowed with herbs and leaves. How the hell did she gather that much in the dark and rain?

I noticed it was still night. I forced myself to stand and walk toward the firewood. She was so focused on grinding leaves with determined hands that she didn’t hear me until I dropped twigs into the fire.

She gasped. "Nick! What are you doing? Get back to bed!" Her tone was sharp, but beneath it was something soft. Worry. Care.

"I feel a little stronger. The coconut helped," I murmured. "Besides, if this fire dies, we’ll be in trouble. It’s hard enough to light it when everything’s wet."

She exhaled slowly, her eyes locking with mine. "How are you feeling?"

"I haven’t gone to the loo since you left," I said, settling beside her, trying to convince both of us that I might be improving. "Maybe I already flushed out the bad oyster."

Then my stomach roared, loud and unforgiving.

"Shit... I was wrong."

I staggered to my feet, ready to rush out of the cave again, when I noticed movement behind me. Georgia was following.

"Where are you going?" I asked, baffled.

"To help you," she answered, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"What? No! Absolutely not. You’re not coming anywhere near where I’m going to shit. Stay here—please. It’s humiliating enough already."

I braced for her stubborn reply, but instead, she just pouted, turned back, and resumed her brewing.

I bolted out and barely made it to my usual spot. Whatever strength I had regained vanished with every agonizing second. Gods, please let this stop. I don’t care about the pain anymore—I just care about her. If something happens to me, what will become of Georgia?

When I returned, shivering and exhausted, Georgia stood at the entrance holding a cotton shirt. She didn’t say a word, just stepped forward and began drying me off like I was something fragile, like a child.

"Take off your pants and cover yourself with the other blanket," Georgia ordered, her voice stern but filled with concern. "You’re already sick. I don’t want it getting worse."

I didn’t argue. I moved slowly to the spot where we hang our wet clothes, struggling with each motion. She noticed, of course, she always did. Without a word, she came over and helped me, her hands surprisingly gentle as she peeled the fabric from my damp skin. Once I was wrapped up, she guided me to sit in front of the fire.

"The herbal medicine’s ready," she said. "Drink it before the tea."

I eyed the murky liquid in the coconut shell and grimaced. "That looks and smells like death."

"They taste worse," she replied dryly.

I let out a short laugh despite myself. Her brutal honesty somehow made everything feel less miserable. "Great. Thanks for the encouragement."

She cracked a soft smile and handed me the shell. "You’re welcome. Try not to throw up. It’ll help with the stomach cramps and slow things down. Then the tea should cool your fever and rehydrate you."

I stared at her, half in awe, half in disbelief. This woman was the fire keeping me alive.

I drink the concoction she made, and fuck, it made my stomach turn upside down. "What did you put in this?" I quickly asked after my face contorted because of the bitterness.

Georgia laughed at my reaction. "It’s a mixture of papaya leaves, ferns, and some weeds. Drink it all, it will make you better, I promise."

I looked at the disgusting green liquid in the coconut shell one last time before I pinched my nose hard and downed it in one go.

Georgia handed me the coconut she opened so I could drink the juice to remove the taste of the bitter concoction she made.

"Tastes like a death sentence," I muttered, earning another soft laugh from her as she handed me the next drink.

"Drink this, and go to bed after," she said.

"What is it this time?" I asked suspiciously, eyeing the amber liquid.

"I boiled some wild grass to make that. It will lower your fever and also help with your tummy trouble. Don’t worry it doesn’t have any flavor. Absolutely taste like water," she said.

True enough, it was bland, thank god, so I was able to finish it fast. Once done, I quickly felt the difference. Warmth spread through my belly, soothing the cramps. I already felt better.

Georgia stood up and extended her hand to me. "Come on, let’s put you to bed. I put some hot water into the water bottles. Put them against your stomach so you could sleep better."

I took her hand, let her guide me. She tucked me in, like I was something that would break. Someone precious.

"Aren’t you going to back to sleep?" I asked, as I watched her going back to the campfire.

"I will, let me just clean this up and I’ll sleep beside you," she said.

I watched her quietly as she moved around the cave, cleaning up the scattered leaves and rinsing out the coconut shells with rainwater.

Despite everything, the storm, the sickness, the danger, she looked like the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

She was barefoot, soaked, exhausted, and yet still taking care of me like I was her whole world. My chest tightened. I didn’t know how I got this lucky, but I knew I’d never take her for granted. No woman has done something like this for me, except for my mother and sister.

I whispered, "Thank you," but I wasn’t even sure she heard it.

As the warmth of the tea and fire lulled me, I let my eyes close, feeling safe, because she was near.