Chapter 18 - Reggie
Eighteen
Reggie
I wake up feeling like someone ran me over with a truck, then backed up and did it again for good measure. My throat feels like sandpaper, my head is pounding, and when I try to sit up, the room spins in a way that’s definitely not normal.
“Shit,” I croak.
I check my phone. Seven-fifteen. The kids need to be up and getting ready for school, lunches need to be made, and I feel like death warmed over.
I try to get out of bed and immediately regret it. Whatever this is, flu, food poisoning, some kind of plague, it’s not messing around.
“Mama?” Nia’s voice carries down the hallway. “Are you awake?”
“Coming, baby,” I call back, but my voice comes out as more of a groan.
I force myself to stand, grab my robe, and make it about three steps to the door before I have to sit back down. This is not good.
“Ma?” This time it’s Jaylen. “Annalise can’t find her math folder.”
“Check the kitchen table,” I try to yell back, but it comes out as a pathetic grunt.
I hear footsteps in the hall, and then Nia appears at my door
“Mama, you look terrible!”
“Thanks, baby. That’s exactly what every woman wants to hear.”
“No, I mean you look really sick. Like, maybe-you-should-go-to-the-hospital sick.”
“I’m fine, baby. Just a little under the weather.”
“You’re not fine. You’re gray.”
“I’m not gray.”
“You’re totally gray. And you’re shaking.”
I look down at my hands. She’s right. I’m shaking like a leaf.
“Okay, maybe I’m a little sick. But I can still…”
“No.” Nia crosses her arms, sounding way older than fourteen. “You’re going back to bed. Now.”
“But you guys need…”
“We need you to not pass out on the kitchen floor. I can handle getting everyone ready.”
“Nia, you’re still on crutches.”
“I can make cereal and find math folders on crutches. And Jaylen can drive us to school.”
“Jaylen doesn’t have his license yet.”
“He has his permit. And it’s just like five blocks.”
“That’s not how permits work, baby.”
“Then I’ll call Grandma.”
I’m about to argue when a wave of nausea hits me, and I have to put my head between my knees to keep from throwing up.
“That’s it,” Nia says. “I’m calling.”
“Don’t call Grandma. She’ll panic and…”
“Fine, I’m not calling Grandma.”
Something in her tone makes me look up. “Who are you calling?”
“Blayne.”
“Nia, no. He’s got work, and this isn’t his responsibility…”
“Mom.” She gives me a look that’s pure teenage exasperation. “He told Annalise he’d be here for Jaylen’s tryout results. He’s already planning to be around today. And you’re sick.”
“But…”
“No buts. You’re calling him, or I am.”
“I can’t ask him to…”
“You’re not asking. I am.”
Before I can stop her, she’s scrolling through my phone contacts and hitting call.
“Cornelia Lisa Scott, hang up right now.”
“Hi, Blayne? It’s Nia… Yeah, I’m good, thanks… Listen, my mom’s really sick and… No, she’s being stubborn… Can you come over?… Like now?… Thank you. See you in a few.”
She hangs up and gives me a satisfied smile. “He’ll be here in ten minutes.”
“Nia, you had no right to…”
“To what? To call someone who cares about us when we need help? To make sure Annalise gets to school and Jaylen doesn’t miss his tryouts because you’re too proud to admit you’re human?”
“I’m not too proud, I’m just…”
“Stubborn. And sick. Now get back in bed before you fall over.”
I want to argue, but another wave of dizziness hits me, and I have to grab the doorframe to steady myself.
“Fine,” I mutter. “But I’m just resting until I feel better. I don’t need anyone to…”
“Mama?” Annalise appears behind Nia, her hair sticking up in about twelve different directions. “Why do you sound funny?”
“I’m a little sick, sweetie. But I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. You look like the time I had the throw-up bug.”
“Thanks for that comparison, sweetheart.”
“Are you going to throw up?”
“I hope not.”
“Should I get a bucket?”
“That’s probably not a bad idea,” Nia tells her before I can answer.
“I don’t need a bucket. I need coffee and maybe four more hours of sleep.”
“You need a doctor,” Nia mutters.
“I don’t need a doctor. I need…”
The sound of the front door opening cuts me off, followed by heavy footsteps and a familiar voice.
“Where’s the patient?” I hear Blayne’s deep voice ask. My hero.
“In here,” Nia calls out. “And she’s being difficult.”
He appears in my bedroom doorway, wearing work clothes and looking like he ran all the way here. His hair is messy, there’s concern written all over his face, and seeing him like this makes me want to cry with relief.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he says softly. “Heard you’re feeling rough.”
“I’m fine. Nia’s being dramatic.”
He takes one look at me and frowns. “You’re not fine. You look like hell.”
“That seems to be the consensus.”
“When did this start?”
“I woke up feeling a little off, but…”
“She’s been up half the night,” Nia interrupts. “I heard her in the bathroom around three AM.”
“Nia!”
“What? It’s true. And you keep shivering even though it’s like seventy degrees in here.”
Blayne steps closer and puts the back of his hand against my forehead. His touch is cool and gentle, and I have to resist the urge to lean into it.
“You have a fever,” he says.
“It’s just a little bug. I’ll be fine by this afternoon.”
“Maybe. But right now, you need to be in bed. And these kids need to get to school.”
“I can handle…”
“Regina.” His voice is firm. Look at my man going all daddy cowboy on me…
“I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You’re not a burden. You’re sick.”
“But you have work. I know you’re busy…”
“The crew can handle one day without me. But you can’t handle one day trying to take care of everyone when you can barely stand.”
He’s right, and I hate that. I hate being weak, needing help, hate the fact that I can’t even take care of my own kids when they need me.
“Hey,” Blayne says softly, leaning to catch my gaze, like he can read my thoughts. “It’s okay to need help sometimes. Doesn’t make you’re weak. Makes you human.”
“I just feel so useless.”
“You’re not useless. You’re sick. It happens.”
“Not to me. I don’t get sick. I don’t have time to get sick.”
“Well, today you’re making time.”
Before I can argue further, he’s guiding me back to bed, pulling the covers up to my chin, and checking to make sure I have water and tissues within reach.
“I’m gonna get the kids to school,” he declares firmly. “You’re gonna stay right here and rest.”
“Blayne…”
“No arguments. Doctor’s orders.”
“You’re not a doctor.”
“I’m the closest thing you got right now.”
I watch him leave the room, and a few minutes later I can hear him in the kitchen with my kids. His voice is calm, sure, like he’s done this a thousand times.
“All right, troops, what’s the morning routine?”
“Cereal first,” Annalise announces.
“What kind of cereal?”
“The one with the rabbit on the box.”
“Trix,” Jaylen clarifies. “She means Trix.”
“Got it. Nia, you need help with anything?”
“I’m good. Just need to grab my backpack.”
“Jaylen, when are your tryouts?”
“After school. Coach said we’d know the results by five.”
“I’ll be here when you get home.”
The easy way he talks to them, the way he remembers what’s important to each of them, the way he steps into the chaos of our lives like he belongs here… it makes my chest tight with something that feels a whole lot like love…
* * *
Twenty minutes later, he’s back in my bedroom with a cup of tea and what looks like toast cut into triangles.
“I’m not hungry,” I tell him.
“I know. But you need to eat something, even if it’s just a little.”
“I’ll throw up.”
“Maybe. But you need to try.”
He sits on the edge of the bed and holds the tea while I take tiny sips. It’s perfect. Not too hot, with just a touch of honey. I feel like Goldilocks. I let out a small giggle. Blayne smiles at me with warmth in his blue eyes, pushing my sweat-damp curls away from my forehead.
“How did you know how I like my tea?”
“I pay attention.”
“When did you have time to pay attention to how I like my tea?”
“Every morning for the past few weeks. You make it the same way every time.”
Three weeks. Has it really been three weeks since we started? Since he started staying over most nights, since he became part of our morning routine, since he became… what? My boyfriend? My partner? Something else entirely?
“The kids got off okay?” I ask, pushing away my thoughts.
“Yep. Nia’s got her lunch money, Jaylen remembered his cleats, and Annalise has her math folder and her stuffed elephant for show-and-tell.”
“She’s not supposed to bring toys to school.”
“It’s Friday. Mrs. Peterson lets them bring one special thing on Fridays.”
“How do you know that?”
“Annalise told me. Apparently, it’s very important that I understand Friday rules.”
“You’re really good at this.”
“At what?” His voice is soft, his eyes tender, his small smile heartwarming.
“Family stuff. Taking care of everyone. Knowing what they need.”
“It’s not hard when you care about people.”
The simple statement makes my throat tight. “Blayne…”
“Rest,” he says, standing up. “I’m going to work from your kitchen table. Keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t try to do laundry or clean bathrooms or whatever it is you think you need to do when you’re supposed to be healing.”
“I don’t do laundry when I’m sick.”
“Good. Because today you’re not doing anything except sleeping and drinking fluids.”
“What about when the kids get home?”
“I’ll handle it.”
“Baby, Annalise will want help with her homework…”
“I can handle second-grade math.”
I laugh a little.
“Nia needs to stay off her ankle…”
“Reggie.” He leans down and kisses my forehead gently, making me feel all tingly despite my illness. “I got this. All of it. Just rest.”
So I do. I sleep for most of the day, waking up occasionally to the sound of Blayne moving around the house, the low murmur of his deep voice on work calls.
When I wake up around four, I already feel more human. Still tired, a little shaky, but my fever’s broken and the room isn’t spinning anymore.
I can hear voices in the kitchen. All three kids are home, and they’re talking over each other in the way they do when they’re excited about something.
“Mama’s awake!” Annalise shouts when she sees me in the doorway.
“How you feeling, sweetheart?” Blayne asks, immediately standing up from where he was sitting at the table with what looks like homework spread out in front of him.
“Better. Much better.”
“Good. You’ve got some of your color back.” His eyes are soft on me.
“Did I miss anything?”
“Jaylen made varsity!” Nia announces.
“What? Really?” I look at my son, who’s trying to play it cool but can’t hide his grin.
“Starting quarterback,” he says, the tips of his ears reddening.
“Oh my God, baby! That’s amazing!” I want to hug him, but I’m still not sure I’m not contagious.
“Coach said I’ve got good instincts,” he continues. “And good field vision.”
“He’s being modest,” Blayne says. “Coach pulled me aside and said Jaylen’s got real talent. Said he hasn’t seen a kid read defenses like that in years.”
I look around the table, at Jaylen glowing with pride, Nia and Annalise beaming at their brother, Blayne looking like he’s as proud as if Jaylen was his son, and something in my chest cracks open.
This man dropped everything to take care of my sick child. Today he dropped everything to take care of me and my family. He went to Jaylen’s tryouts like it was the most important thing in the world. He’s sitting at my kitchen table helping with homework like he belongs here. Like he’s ours.
“So,” Blayne says, standing up and stretching his long, strong body. “I was thinking we should celebrate.”
“We could order pizza,” Annalise suggests hopefully.
“Actually,” Blayne replies with a grin, cupping her smooth cheek. “I was thinking something bigger. There’s that new family fun center in Salinas that just opened. They have mini golf, an arcade, go-karts. What do you think?”
“Really?” Jaylen lights up.
“Really. But only if your mom’s feeling up to it.”
All three kids turn to look at me with hopeful expressions.
“I’m feeling much better,” I say, which is true. “But are you sure? You’ve already done so much today…”
“Babe, stop. I want to. We all deserve some fun.”
“Can we go now?” Annalise bounces in her chair.
“Let me get cleaned up first,” I say. “And maybe eat something that isn’t toast.”
“We can leave in an hour, yeah?”
The kids scatter to get ready, chattering excitedly, and I realize this is about to be our first real family outing.