Stella touched Joshua’s forehead. His skin was warmer than usual, but thankfully, he wasn’t running a fever.
She let out a quiet sigh of relief, though a pang of guilt crept into her heart.
The air in Germany was always damp, and last night’s persistent rain had left everything cold and clammy. The floor was practically icy.
And she’d made Joshua sleep on the floor.
Honestly, even if she’d tried it herself, she’d probably have caught a cold after one night down there, never mind someone else.
If Joshua fell ill at a time like this, it wouldn’t just jeopardize their escape from Germany—dodging their pursuers would become nearly impossible.
Stella closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.
After a brief pause, she opened them again.
She straightened out the blankets on the bed, then walked back to where Joshua lay.
No matter what, she needed to get him off the floor and onto the bed before the cold got to him any more than it already had.
But Joshua was tall and broad-shouldered, nearly as big as Haynes. Even though Stella had been working out lately, hauling a man his size was no easy feat.
After several attempts that left her sweating, she finally managed to pull Joshua upright.
That was when he stirred awake.
He opened his eyes slowly. “What’s going on?”
His voice was hoarse, nothing like the clear, steady tone she was used to hearing from him.
Seeing him awake, Stella straightened, alert. “Joshua, how are you feeling? Can you stand? Let’s get you onto the bed for a bit.”
He looked at her, his gaze strange—gone was the bright clarity she knew. In its place was a cold, unsettling shadow, like the gloomy weather outside.
He murmured, “…Alright.”
Stella helped him onto the bed. “Joshua, does your head still hurt?”
He answered sluggishly, “Yeah.”
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