"Dad?" I said softly.
When I touched his forehead again, he was still burning up.
"God…" I winced out.
I rushed to the small table beside the couch and grabbed the bowl of water I had left there earlier.
I wrung the towel out slowly, the water kept dripping through my fingers as i placed it on his forehead again.
He groaned quietly.
"I know," I sighed, brushing my hand gently over his hair. "It's going to help, okay?"
I knelt beside him, watching his face, hoping the fever would magically disappear.
So I stood up again, and walked to the kitchen.
The pot I had been using earlier was still sitting on the stove. The vegetables I had chopped were scattered across the small counter.
I grabbed the spoon and started stirring the soup slowly.
The house felt different tonight.
Maybe because someone else had been standing in it.
Someone tall and frustrating and… stupidly persistent.
Ian.
I exhaled slowly, leaning my weight against the counter as the soup simmered.
