Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
JOEY
Idon’t know the last time I was ever this exhausted. It clings to every cell of my body. Sick kids are never fun.
When Max came home complaining of a stomachache, I hoped it wouldn’t turn into more.
That was a losing battle.
I spent the entire night with him while he got sick. Each time I thought he was okay, he got sick again. And to top it all off, there’s now a gurgle in my stomach.
Great. Just what I need—to get sick while my kid is sick.
So much for my stolen night with Sam. He was understanding, but I was still upset not to see him. And it’s not like I can call my parents to help because they went out of town for the weekend to celebrate their anniversary.
I try to will the feeling away, taking deep breaths and pressing a cold compress to my forehead.
Max is still in his room. For how much longer, I don’t know. The sun is streaming in through the windows, making my head throb even more.
Maybe if I sit still long enough, the feeling will pass.
“Mommy!” Max calls from his room. “Mommy!”
I groan, using all my energy to roll over and get off the couch. Stepping into his room, the sick smell is back.
“I got sick,” he cries.
I wince. “It’s okay. C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Even putting a trash can in his room didn’t help. I breathe through my mouth, trying not to get sick myself.
I can’t handle when I get sick, let alone Max. But somehow, I have to manage this all on my own.
I strip Max out of his pajamas before cleaning him up. His bottom lip sticks out as he sniffles.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
I press a kiss to his forehead. “You don’t have to be sorry. It’s okay, Baby. Do you think there’s anything else in your tummy?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Then let’s go get some clothes on and you can curl up on the couch with me for a bit, okay?”
He nods and I follow him into his room as he pulls out a T-shirt and shorts pajama set covered in dinosaurs. I help him before he walks into the living room.
Ugh. Now I have to clean up this mess without getting sick myself.
No one tells you this is what you sign up for when you become a parent. Pulling my shirt over my nose, I scrub the floors and get everything clean.
I hope this might be the last time.
Fingers crossed.
“All done.”
I plop down next to him, his eyes heavy.
“I’m sleepy.”
“Do you want to sleep on the couch with me for a little bit before going back to your room?”
“With you.” He curls into the pillows. “Can I sleep with my tomato?”
I smile down at him. “Of course you can.”
I go into his room to grab it for him. He snuggles into it as I tuck him in with a blanket. It doesn’t take long for Max to fall back asleep.
I sigh, sinking into the couch myself. I rub circles on his back as his soft snores fill the room. I’ll give him a few more minutes before putting him to bed.
With him going down, maybe I can finally get some sleep. Will this sickness away. Doing my best to pick him up, I carry him to his room and tuck him in.
He doesn’t flinch. I press a kiss to his clammy forehead before going back to resume my spot on the couch. But before I can make it there, a knock on the door echoes through the space.
Maybe if I ignore it, whoever it is will go away.
No such luck.
Pulling open the front door, I’m shocked at the man standing in front of me.
“Sam. What are you doing here?”
“I—” I don’t hear what he says.
“Oh God.”
My stomach decides now is the perfect time to get sick. I barely make it to the bathroom before I’m retching over the toilet.
Heavy footsteps pound behind me.
“Can I help?”
Sam’s hand rubs up and down my back.
“You can leave.”
“Why?” he asks.
I rest my head on the cool porcelain and turn to face him.
“I don’t want you to see me like this.”
Sam stands and instead of leaving, he finds a washcloth and wets it down, wiping my face.
“I see you.”
“Ugh.”
“You look beautiful.”
“You don’t have to lie.”
I rock back to lean against the wall, and Sam hovers over me. His touch is gentle as he keeps wiping my face.
“It doesn’t matter if you’re sick. Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
I give him a weak smile. “This is what I mean when I say you’re too nice.”
“It’s not being nice. It’s the truth.”
Sam goes back to the sink and grabs the mouthwash and makes me swish a mouthful.
“Now, let’s get you into bed.”
I let him help me up. He lifts me into his arms with ease, carrying me into my bedroom. He pulls the blankets back and lays me down.
“You don’t have to do this,” I whine.
He brushes a lock of hair off my sticky forehead. “I know I don’t.”
“I’m sorry our weekend was ruined.”
“I’m still here with you. It’s okay.”
I wish I could kiss him, but I don’t want to make him sick. Instead, I curl into my pillows and let sleep take over.
Sam
It doesn’t take much for Joey to fall asleep. Yanking the curtains closed, I shut her door and let her try to get some shut-eye.
I put the soup I brought in the fridge and do my best to straighten up the room. It’s not too messy, but it’s something I don’t want Joey to have to worry about when she wakes up.
Having firsthand experience of what it’s like dealing with a sick kid on your own, I know that it’s never fun.
By the time I’m tossing the last of the blankets into the dryer, soft footsteps come from behind me.
“What are you doing here?”
Max is standing by his door, tomato in hand.
“Your mom said you weren’t feeling good so I brought some soup.”
“Where’s Mommy?” Max asks, padding into the living room and sitting on the couch, still facing me.
“She’s sleeping. Her tummy isn’t feeling good either.”
“Mine feels better,” he says.
“It does?”
“Yeah. It’s grumbly.” He nods. “He’s hungry. So is my tomato.”
“Do you want to try eating some soup?”
“Is it yummy?”
“I think so.”
It’s your basic chicken noodle. Based on what Joey said about him not being picky, I have a feeling he’ll like it.
“Can I have some?”
I nod and lift him up into my arms and bring him into the kitchen with me. “Let’s start with a small bowl, okay?”
“Okay.”
He sits on the counter while I grab the electrolyte drink from the fridge and warm up the soup. “Drink this too.”
It’s already in a cup for him, so at least I don’t have to worry about finding that.
“What kind of soup is it?”
“Chicken noodle.”
Max looks concerned. “I don’t know if my tomato will like it.”
I smile at him, taking the bowl out of the microwave and testing it. Perfectly warm for him so he won’t burn his mouth. “If you like it, your tomato will like it.”
“Okay.”
“Let’s go eat at the table.”
I lift him down and help him up into his seat. He makes no fuss about eating his soup, giving his spoon to his tomato every now and then.
It’s the cutest fucking thing. I forgot about these moments with kids. When they don’t have a single care in the world and all they care about is making sure a stuffed tomato is fed.
“He seems to like it,” I say.
Max nods. “He does. But he said to save some for Mommy.”
“I have plenty left for her.” But it still warms my heart to see him worried about his mom. “Do you want to watch TV until your mom wakes up?”
His face perks up. “Mommy says I can’t unless it’s with her.”
I ruffle his hair. “I think she’d be okay with it since you’re not feeling good.”
“Really?” Max slurps up the last of his soup.
“Really. And if she has an issue with it, I’ll talk to her.”
“Can we watch the planes?”
“Sure.” I nod, not quite knowing what the planes are.
But Max knows. He leaves his bowl on the table, grabs his stuffed toy, and finds the remote, flipping on the show he wants.
Ahh. Animated planes going around helping people. At least he chose something wholesome.
I’d hate for Joey to be mad at me because of what I let her son watch. I think she will get over the TV rule since she is able to get some rest.
Max scoots closer to me, leaning against my arm. His feet hang off the edge of the couch, his soft laugh filling the air.
Fuck, I miss this age. It was right before everything went bad. Before Casie died. I remember snuggling up on the couch with Lennox while we let Casie sleep and making her breakfast in bed. Getting to be a good dad for my daughter.
I know that’s something that Joey will never have to worry about. Max loves her. It’s evident in everything he does and the way he thinks about her.
One episode of the show turns into two, which turns into I don’t know how many. Max explains every little thing to me as it happens.
“So which is your favorite plane?”
“The red one.”
“Why the red one?” I ask. “Is red your favorite color?”
“He’s the fastest plane.”
“What plane do you think I should like?”
Max studies me then turns back to the TV, a look of concentration on his face.
“I think you’d like the lellow one.”
I smirk down at him. “Why’s that?
I already know the answer, but I wait for him to say it.
“He’s old.”
“You silly goose.”
He giggles before curling back into my side and turning back to the show. The bedroom door opens and Joey comes out.
She’s in a hoodie and shorts, but has a little more color to her face.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” Her voice is scratchy.
“How are you feeling?”
She waves her hand back and forth in front of her. “Better. Not great, but better.”
“Sam let me watch TV,” Max says. “He’s the lellow plane.”
“I hope it’s okay,” I say. “My idea. I also heard you’re the purple plane.”
“That’s the mommy plane.” Joey walks over to us and sits down next to Max. “And it’s more than okay. I appreciate you taking care of him. You didn’t need to do that.”
“And you were going to?” I cock a brow at her, pinning her with a fierce look.
“Yeah, yeah.”
“We saved you soup, Mommy.”
Max doesn’t look at her, just staring at the TV.
“We did.”
She smiles at me, warm and tender. “Where did the soup come from?”
“I made it.”
Joey reaches behind the couch, rubbing my shoulder. “Thank you, Sam.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Tomato liked it.”
“I’m glad he did,” Joey tells Max. “I’m going to go get some crackers.”
“Let me get them,” I say, jumping off the couch.
“I can manage some crackers, Sam.”
She follows me into the kitchen, but I still get them for her. “Will you let me take care of you?”
My voice is barely above a whisper. Max is too focused on the show to hear us.
“I don’t want to get you sick.”
I take a step closer and press my lips to her forehead. “Doesn’t matter, darlin’. I want to help.”
Her eyes flutter shut, lashes brushing against her cheeks. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for this woman—for her and Max. I don’t give a shit if I get sick. It’d be worth it to make her life a little bit easier right now.
“You’re too good to me.” Her hands rest against my chest as she leans in closer to me.
“Only giving you what you deserve.”
“Most people wouldn’t.”
I growl. “That’s because you haven’t found the right person.”
I should be thankful for the idiot who stood her up at the diner. That no other guy before me worked out. Because otherwise I probably wouldn’t be here right now.
“I just might have,” she whispers.
It’s so soft, it’s like I imagine hearing her say it.
She grabs the crackers, giving me a smile before taking a spot next to Max.
Yeah, I just might have too.