Chapter 3Fever Broke and So Did We

Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe that was the exact moment my feelings for Mason died completely. I turned off my phone and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When I finally drifted awake, the first thing I heard was the sharp, panicked voice of my best friend, Fiona.

"Norah, are you out of your mind? You have a massive fever and you didn't take anything? Why didn't you call me?"

Her voice shook, a mix of fury and pure, raw terror. "If I hadn't decided to swing by and check on you, you would've ended up in the ICU with pneumonia!"

"I'm sorry..." I whispered, feeling terrible for worrying her. But my voice was so raspy it sounded like dry leaves scraping across concrete.

"Save your breath, your throat is raw," Fiona snapped, though she gently placed a cool cloth on my forehead.

Then she began pacing, muttering under her breath. "And where the hell is Mason? I called him five times and he didn't even pick up. He used to lose his mind if you so much as sneezed. Now he's a ghost?"

I closed my eyes, remembering our junior year of college.

I’d spiked a sudden, terrifying fever in the middle of the night. When Fiona found me, it was 3:00 AM. She couldn't get me to the clinic alone, so she called Mason.

It was the coldest night of the year. Mason had sprinted down the empty, frozen streets with me slung over his back, his voice shaking and raw with tears.

"Norah, please stay with me. I'm getting you to the hospital. Just hold on, baby, please, we're almost there."

By the time we reached the emergency room, he was drenched in sweat, tears streaming down his face, his eyes wide with terror.

When I woke up, the nurse had smiled gently. "You've got a good one, sweetie. He loves you to pieces. Make sure you hold onto him."

I’d looked through the glass. Mason was slumped in a hard plastic chair in the hallway, his clothes disheveled, fast asleep.

"He was terrified his snoring would wake you up," the nurse added. "No matter how much I told him to sleep in the extra chair in here, he refused. He insisted on staying out there."

Back then, his love was loud, proud, and undeniable.

I had thought, in my naive twenty-year-old heart, that I would marry him.

I never could have imagined that love could be as fleeting as a firework.

Five years. That was all it lasted.

I stayed in the hospital for two days. Mason didn't call once.

I didn't care.

On the day I was discharged, I looked at Fiona. "Are you free today? I want to go look at cars."

Fiona stared at me, dumbfounded. "But Mason drives you everywhere. Why do you need a car?"

I swallowed hard, then told her everything that had happened over the last few days—including how he’d taken my medicine to give to Sadie.

Fiona’s face went red with fury. "Are you kidding me? What an absolute scumbag! He's basically stepping out on you, and he left you burning up with a fever to play hero to another woman? I hope he rots! Break up with him. Right now!"

Breaking up was a given. I’d just been too physically exhausted to handle the logistics.

I nodded, pulled out my phone, and sent him a simple, direct breakup text.

"Now," I said, looking up at Fiona. "Will you come car shopping with me?"

I didn't just need a car. I needed a new place to live. Now that we were over, I couldn't spend another night in his apartment.

I wasn't picky about the car or the apartment. I signed the paperwork for a compact SUV and found a fully furnished loft that was ready for immediate move-in.

Once the lease was signed, I treated Fiona to dinner, and then went back to Mason’s apartment to pack my bags.

Fiona insisted on waiting in the car downstairs, just in case.

I didn't expect anyone to be home. But when I unlocked the door, I saw Mason sitting on the sofa, his expression dark and stormy.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded, his voice tight. "You haven't been home in two days!"