Chapter 28
TRAVIS
Rachel didn’t call. Not like she said she would. And that stuck in his teeth like a broken toothpick.
Travis had called her, but she didn’t pick up.
She had finally texted him that the boys were having a hard time settling, so they’d need to rain check.
He hadn’t wanted to rain check. He wanted time with Rachel.
Gavin propped himself against the doorway of Travis’s office.
Yes, Travis was in his office. He’d even gone to a meeting that morning to discuss his idea to sell mini toaster tarts to his CEO buddy at Integrated Airlines.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Gavin asked. No, Travis did not. He shook his head.
“If you’d rather sit in here and stew alone, I can go talk to Dane instead.” Gavin started to move away from the door. Travis glared at his not-ringing cell phone. He and Gavin were going to have to have this conversation at some point. Might as well be now.
“Sure, yeah, let’s talk.” Travis pushed his chair back from the desk, stood, and strode to the door. He closed it. Then back to the chair.
He needed to get new art for the walls. His mother had picked out the pastel watercolors currently hanging. He’d never cared because he was never there.
That was changing.
He had ideas, and he was going to see them through. Mini-tarts was only the beginning.
“You really care about her?” Gavin asked, like he didn’t really know if he believed it.
Travis nodded. “I do.”
“That’s good. I’m happy for you both.” Seriously? Huh.
Who would’ve thought?
“Hey, have you heard from her since we got back?” Travis asked.
“I talked to the boys this morning. They didn’t say anything. Haven’t you talked to her?”
“Not since the airport. I’ve been calling, but she hasn’t answered. I figured she needed some space.” Space sucked, and he’d keep calling. He hoped like hell his mama hadn’t done something to sabotage him, and he planned to stop by at lunch to ensure that had not happened.
He’d meant it when they’d danced—he wouldn’t just let her walk out of his life, not until she told him that’s what she wanted.
“I care a lot about Rachel,” Gavin said, clearly choosing his words carefully. He sat in the chair across from Travis’s desk.
Of course, Gavin should care about the mother of his kids, but the words still stuck sideways in Travis’s craw.
“I don’t love her, though, not like that,” Gavin continued. “I…I guess I screwed up her life and have always felt the responsibility for that.”
Now, that got Travis’s attention. “You didn’t screw up her life.”
“Trav.” Gavin dropped his elbows to his knees. “I can see the remnants of my mistakes with her all the way from California to Colorado. Those boys are the best things that ever happened to me, but I still managed to screw it up.”
Gavin had been distant with Travis since the big reveal.
Travis was pretty certain this was because the twins dug him, and Gavin felt threatened by it.
Which was ridiculous because they adored their Uncle Trav, but they loved their dad.
If he’d given them half the time of day that they deserved, then he’d see how much he meant to them.
“They love you.”
Gavin nodded. “I’m not going to continue that screw-up. I’m going to be there for them. They’re the priority.”
“What changed?” Because this was a pretty big change.
“I thought Rachel needed me to be absent. I thought she preferred to do things herself. It’s who she is, you know?
” Gavin asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer.
“The only thing I want is for her to be happy, the boys to be happy. I’d like a little bit of that for myself, but Dakota wasn’t that for me.
I wasn’t it for her, either. We both held on to hope a little too long.
I guess that’s one thing Rachel and I did get right—we stopped trying before we really hurt each other. ”
“You’re really not pissed we’re together?”
Gavin gave a light shake of his head. “I’ll get pissed if you hurt her. She’s had enough of that in her life. She’s already lost most of her family. We’re her family now. I won’t let anyone—not even you—fuck that up for her.”
Travis chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Gavin asked.
“I’ve just been rehearsing to say something similar to you.”
“Then I guess we’re on the same page.” Gavin held his hand out to Travis.
For the first time in a long time, they were on the same page.
Travis shook his brother’s hand.
Gavin went back to his office, and Travis tried Rachel again.
Voicemail.
Straight to voicemail. Dammit.
“Rach,” he said into the receiver. “I’m starting to get really worried about you. Can you call me back? Even just send another text. Let me know you’re okay. Okay?”
He disconnected and stared out the window at the Denver skyline.
The knock at the window beside his door had him turning.
“I called the kids,” Gavin said, his words stone. “Brady said Rachel’s sick. She’s been throwing up all morning.”
Sonofabitch. Travis should have known better than to give her time to readjust to Denver. Giving someone space meant they spent a whole day throwing up all by themselves.
This is why a guy didn’t give the woman he cared for space.
Travis grabbed his wallet and his keys and jogged to the bank of elevators before Gavin could say anything else.
He made excellent time and was in his car and out of the parking lot, before Gavin even emerged from the glass revolving door painted like the latest variety of toaster tarts that led to the lobby of the building.
Gavin, however, did catch up to him at the stop sign just outside the industrial park where the Puffle Yum factory was situated. He tailed Travis the entire way to Rachel’s house.
Travis kept to the speed limit, but it took everything he had.
Rachel was sick.
That’s why Rachel hadn’t answered his calls.
If Rachel was so sick she didn’t have her cell with her, then she was really ill.
She couldn’t be really ill because she was Rachel. That made not a bit of sense, but there it was.
He jogged up the stairs two at a time, then tried the door. Locked. Instead of pounding on the glass panes, he punched the code into the pad, and when the lock clicked, he pushed it open.
“Rach?” he called, leaving the door wide open for his brother. “Brady? Kellan?”
The living room was a wreck. Worse than the birthday party aftermath.
He shoved his fingers through his hair.
Shit. He’d never seen her living room this bad—throw pillows all over the floor. They had pulled the couch cushions off the sofas and lined them along the wall to make some kind of fort. Toys were everywhere. Literally, everywhere. The place was a minefield.
There were even cups filled with unknown liquid on the coffee table.
It looked like an eight-year-old version of a frat party.
They hadn’t been back that long. How the hell had the boys managed this? The kitchen was even worse—used plates, bowls, and silverware covered the countertops.
“Kellan? Brady?” Gavin called, heading up the stairs to their bedroom.
“Rach?” Travis called, and goddamn it, his voice cracked a little.
He followed Gavin up the stairs. The boys had strategically placed themselves in their beanbag chairs, playing some game with cars and lots of crashes.
“When you do it like this, the car explodes.” Kellan screeched and made explosion sounds, puffing his cheeks and throwing his whole body into the turn.
Brady laughed hysterically at the ensuing explosion. He laughed so loud, Pete gave a bark from where he and Re-Pete were lounging at their feet.
Everyone seemed fine.
“Where’s your mom?” Travis asked, his blood pressure absolutely not fine.
“What’re you doing here, Uncle Trav?” Kellan asked, his eyes wide.
“He asked where your mom is.” Gavin said, turning off the television so they had to give him all their attention.
“Um…” Brady looked to Kellan.
“In her room sleeping,” Kellan said. “I think. That’s where she was when we took her lunch.”
“We brought her toast,” Brady added. “She wanted it plain.”
Travis hurried to her room. He didn’t bother knocking, just pulled open the door and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.
“Rach?” He said her name low, gentle, and did his best to keep the building feeling of terror from his tone.
She groaned from under the blankets.
He moved to her. “Rach, sunshine, it’s me.”
The two pieces of toast were on the nightstand, untouched. The boys had also, apparently, brought her an apple juice box. Also untouched, since the straw was still in the wrapper.
“I’m gross, go away.” Rachel didn’t move, and the words were raspy.
He knelt beside the bed, careful not to move the mattress, and pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. He did it just like she’d done for him at the lake. Her forehead was slick with sweat, and her skin was on fire. “How long have you been like this?”
“Really sick.” Her words were a croak. “Just need to get better. Don’t look at me.”
She wasn’t gross. She could never be gross. “I’m going to look at you because you’re beautiful, and I’m worried.”
He started to lift her in his arms so he could get her into his car. Take her someplace where there was a doctor and medicine and people who could help fix whatever was wrong with her.
“What are you doing?” She pushed away from him.
“Taking you to the hospital.”
She batted his hands away, but there was no force behind the movement. “It’s just a bug. I don’t need to go anywhere. I just need my bed and the dark and sleep.”
“Rach, you’re burning up.” He set her back down on the bed and pressed his hand against her forehead again. Still slick, still hot, and her skin was pale and flushed.
She sighed, pointing to the thermometer on the nightstand. “I’ve been watching it. It’s not bad.”
He grabbed the thermometer and ran it over her forehead. “It’s at a hundred and one. We need to get you to a doctor.”
His thoughts were all jumbled. He needed to do something. Something that would make a difference. Something to make Rachel healthy again.
“Travis says it’s a hundred and one.” Gavin spoke from the hallway, just outside the door.
He was speaking into his cell, hopefully to a physician who could fix this. Because they needed to find a solution, so Rachel could go back to being Rachel again.
“Brady says she’s been like this since right after they got home.” Gavin nodded at something whoever was on the other end of the line said. “Yeah, the house is a total train wreck.”
Rachel groaned at that announcement.
“We’ll help the boys clean it up.” Travis kept his tone soft, because he was pretty sure if she felt like he had when he’d had the bug, she probably had a decent headache happening along with the fever.
“What did the doctor say?” he asked when Gavin was off the phone.
“Mama says to get a cool washcloth for her head, ibuprofen for the fever if she can keep it down, and a popsicle for dehydration.” Gavin shifted on his feet.
Well, crap. He’d called their mother.
“She also said she’s on her way,” Gavin continued, and this time he sounded apologetic.
Rachel groaned louder. “Maybe let’s do the doctor thing. A hospital visit sounds fabulous. Maybe they’ll even poke me with a bunch of needles.”
“Mama’s really good when someone’s sick.” Travis reached for Rachel’s hand.
She let him hold on to it, not moving or batting him away when he slipped his palm against hers.
“I’m fine. I’m up. I don’t need Evelyn’s help.” She started to lift herself to a sitting position, apparently ready to illustrate how fine she was.
Then she swayed a little and fell back to the bed. “I think I’m just going to lie here. If your mom’s coming over, can somebody go get me a bell?”
He was absolutely not going to give her a bell—she’d probably bonk his mother over the noggin with it.
When Travis had been sick, he hadn’t wanted anyone to touch him, move him, or talk to him. Rachel had managed all of that while still taking care of him and everyone else.
Perhaps it was time they all took care of her for a change.
“Rach,” he said, wanting to touch her so badly, it bordered on painful. “Can I stay here with you?”
It was subtle, but she nodded. “Someone’s got to play interference with your mother.”
“I think she’s feeling bad about how it went up at the lake,” he said.
And she should, because she was a total… How would Rachel say it? Puffle Yum Momster.
“Can you bring me my computer? It’s on my desk,” Rachel said into the pillow, the words muffled.
He touched the crown of her head, gently so he wouldn’t make the room spin. “You need to rest, not work.”
“I need to email my client.” She turned so her mouth wasn’t pressed into the pillow.
Travis winced at the way she said, “my client.” The one client. The last one. Travis wanted to fix this for her, but she didn’t want him to. The truth of the matter was that she didn’t need him to. Rachel would fix it. He knew she could.
“To let him know I’m out right now.”
Ah. Well, that made sense. If she wasn’t answering for Travis, she probably wouldn’t answer for her client, either.
“Can I take it back downstairs as soon as you’re done?” He moved his hand lightly over the knots in her hair.
She gave him a look that would melt the plastic right off a light switch.
“So you can rest,” he added, removing his hand from her hair. “And get better.”
The glare continued.
“Rach.” He moved so they were face-to-face. “What would you tell me to do if I were the sick one?”
She grunted. “Fine. One email and you can put it away.”
“That’s my girl,” he said softly. “Leaning in to self-care.”
“If you start talking about airplanes and me needing to put my own oxygen mask on first, you can stop now. Molly gives me that lecture all the time.”
“Ahh…” He pressed a kiss against her forehead. “But Molly is not a licensed pilot.”
Rachel smiled then. A barely there lift of the edges of her lips before she closed her eyes again.
“It’s nice doing business with you,” he whispered.