“Actually, you’re thinking of blue whales. They’re the biggest animals on Earth,” his assistant, the chick who gave Mal her number, mutters from beside the elephant as she walks with the rest of Ashton’s entourage.

“Yeah, but I mean, like, mammals,” Ashton huffs.

“Whales are mammals.”

Ashton lets out a piercing scream. “Well, that’s just fucking great. Get me down from this stinking asshole right now. They all look like wrinkly, purple balls, anyway.”

I click the X icon to close the video, trying not to let the two million views and counting on the sidebar freak me out.

I turn to Mal. “You look like death.”

I decide to cut him some slack about the napkin and bring it up later. He doesn’t seem eager to discuss it at the moment. My first priority is to make sure he doesn’t walk out this door anytime soon. Lightning booms outside, the rain beating down hard on the roof. The light flickers off for a second.

Again with this supernatural nonsense.

“Cheers.” He lifts his tea mug in the air, taking a sip.

I round the breakfast nook and press my palm against his forehead. He is burning.

“You’re not leaving,” I whisper.

“I’m afraid I’m not asking for permission, Rory.”

“You’re not,” I insist, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “You’ll die out there. And then I’ll be all alone here, which would suck.”

I meant it as a joke, but I forgot about Kath. It’s a foot-in-mouth moment. How did she die? Was she sick? Did you take care of her? Until I find out, I should be more careful with my words.

“You’re not alone.” He gives me a friendly peck on the forehead. “There are mice in the attic.”

“Mal,” I warn, following his gaze and looking at the car keys between us. I shake my head. “Promise me you won’t leave.”

“What did I say about promises, Rory? I only make them if I intend to keep them. What about you?” More coughs.

There is only one place he needs to be right now. In bed.

Mal was right. The living room is not a place to sleep, and it’s my fault he’s in this condition. I should’ve given in to the sleeping bag in his heated room. Yet, I insisted we not share space. Now he’s sick as a dog because he tried to please me.

I scoop up his keys, turn around, and run to Ashton’s room, locking myself inside. Mal is at my heel, and after I slam the door, he slaps his palm over it with a growl.

“Rory!”

“Get into bed!” I yell back.

“I need to go.”

“Not in this state. I don’t care who it is, Mal. You’re not going. If you want, I can call and make an excuse for you.”