“Stella?” I call out, stalking into the place.

She isn’t in the living room, and my pulse kicks into high gear. The meaty organ pounds in my chest as I set down the soup and call her name again. Louder this time. Kind of frantic, because fuck. “Stella!”

A weak noise from her room has me running up the stairs, my blood ice cold, my throat dry.

Hell, if this is even a taste of what my guys felt when they found me, I totally get why they mother me. I slam into her room and almost stumble on the rug as I skid to a halt.

Stella lies curled up on the bed, shivering, her hair matted and damp, her skin flushed.

“Baby.” I hustle over and touch her forehead. She’s burning up. “Shit. How long have you been like this?”

Sheets, ripe with the scent of sweat, twist around her body. With dull eyes, she looks at me for a second, then sags into the pillow. She doesn’t give me any info, just whimpers. And my chest constricts.

It’s been years since I’ve been around anyone sick. I think the last time was for Killian when he had the flu. I didn’t take care of him, though. That had been Brenna’s job back then. But I remember my childhood and how my mother would care for me.

“Come on, love,” I whisper as I scoop Stella up. “Let’s get you more comfortable.”

Her head lolls against my shoulder, and she whimpers again. The unhealthy heat of her body seeps through my shirt, and I bite back a curse. Gently laying her down on the loveseat, I hustle into Killian’s room where I know there’s a wet bar. I know this because the bastard stole the idea from me.

Armed with a bottle of cold water and a fresh glass, I head back and find Stella dozing. I use the time to change the sheets on her bed and get some painkillers. She makes a noise of protest when I pick her back up.

“It’s okay,” I tell her softly. “You’ll be okay.”

“Hurt,” she croaks.

“Where?”

“Throat. Everywhere.”

I set her down on the bed and unravel the dirty sheet. She’s dressed in a rumpled and sweat-soaked tank top and panties. Fuck. Running a hand through my hair, I hesitate for a second but then set my shoulders. She needs to be in clean clothes. End of story.

It takes some doing, but I wrestle a loose white T-shirt onto her and pull the tank off under it. Yeah, I’m being a prude. I’ve seen so many women nude, I’ve lost count. But this is Stella. It feels wrong to see her naked when she’s helpless and sick.

Not that she utters a word of complaint as I work. She just watches me with those dull, listless eyes. Her hand trembles when I give her a glass of cold water, and she only takes a small sip.

“More,” I tell her, pushing the glass back to her lips.

“Hurts.”

“I know, baby. But you need to hydrate.” I hand her two painkillers. “Take these.”

Her grimace hurts to look at but she does what I ask before flopping back onto the pillows. I cover her with a sheet and then find the thermometer.

It’s bad.

“One hundred and three?” I glare down at her. “Baby, you should have called me.”

Stella doesn’t answer but starts shivering again, and I cover her with the quilt.

Irritation and worry churn through my gut as I sit next to her and run my hand over her head. I’ve been dying to touch her hair, wondering if it would feel as silky as it looks. But it’s sticky with sweat now, and I curse again and pull out my phone to dial Dr. Stern.

She answers quickly.

“I have an emergency,” I tell her as I carefully comb my fingers through Stella’s snarled curls.

“Define emergency, Jax.”

“I have a friend here. She’s running a high fever. Chills. Says her throat hurts. I need you to check her out.”

Now, if I were an ordinary person, Doc Stern would tell me to take Stella to the nearest clinic. But since Kill John pays her extremely well to be on call for whatever reason, she tells me she’ll be right over.

I’m not good at waiting. I hate it. Right now, it’s killing me. Stella is in pain and sick with fuck knows what. My gut knotting, I lie back on the bed next to her. Immediately, she curls into me, resting her head on my lap. Her cheek pushes against my dick, and I try not to wince. I’m too tense to get hard. But that doesn’t stop my awareness of her.

Something about Stella makes my senses kick into high gear. If she’s around, I am focused. It’s a strange sensation. I try not to think about it as I gently trace the line of her hair along her temple. My fingertips tingle as if receiving a low-level shock.

“Why didn’t you call someone?” I ask, caressing her jaw. She’s still feverish.

“Who?” It’s barely a croak, but she says it as if truly curious. Like she has no one and hasn’t for a while. She told me she didn’t have any real friends, but it hits me that I didn’t really believe it. How could I? Stella is light and sweetness. Every person who gets near is pulled into her orbit. And she thinks she has no one.

My stomach clenches. “Me. You should have called or texted me.”

Her eyes are closed, but she moves her shoulder in a weak shrug. “Fighting.”

The tightness in my gut turns painful. “We’re not fighting. And even if we were, you could still ask me for help, Button.”

Christ. She doesn’t understand this? Friends fucking show. No matter what. I could be acting like a complete dick, but if I called Whip, Rye, Brenna, Scottie, Sophie, or Libby, they’d be there for me. I’d do the same for them. In an instant, I miss my friends.

My thoughts are interrupted when Stella jerks and opens her eyes with a gasp. It stops my heart. “What?” I touch her cheek. “Are you hurting?”

She just looks at the door. “Food. Guy should be here.”

Sagging against the padded headboard, I rest my hand on her head. “It’s okay. I paid him.”

But her eyes stay wild. “Stevens and Hawn.”

At the sound of his name, Stevens prowls out from under the bed and leaps up to cuddle Stella’s thigh. She weakly touches his head. I eye the little fur ball with trepidation. He might like Stella, but the bugger is shifty as fuck. “I’ll feed the pets,” I tell her. Stevens narrows his devil eyes at me as if to say, you better fucking do it or I’ll gut you. I believe it.

“His litter box,” Stella whispers, worried.

I swear Stevens smirks. I suppress a shiver. “Yeah, I’ll do that too.”

Stella sighs and snuggles back down on my lap. “’Kay.”

“You want some soup?”

She shakes her head, burrowing in deeper and slinging her arm over my thighs. It does something to me, the way she clings. No one has ever looked to me for simple physical comfort. Ever. I wouldn’t have allowed it. I’m not a cuddler. Women have tried to cling. It made my skin crawl. I used to think I was broken that way. Incapable. But comforting Stella feels good. Useful.

Idly, I run my fingers through her curls and stare at the ceiling.

The door buzzer goes off. Dr. Stern. Finally.

I move to let her in, but Stella clutches my hips. Her wide blue eyes, dull with fever, find mine. “Don’t leave me.”

Fuck. She’s breaking my heart. I cup her cheek. “Never, baby. I’m just getting the door, okay?”

She blinks, looking hazy and confused.

I kiss her temple. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”