“Really, I swear. Just some sleep, some over-the-counter flu medicine, and I’ll be good as new. I’ll just snuggle up in my bed while you guys are gone—” I tried sitting up again, which was a huge mistake. “Or maybe I’ll just stay here.” The living room suddenly got really fuzzy. “Yeah. Here’s good. Here’s the best. Who needs a bed when you’ve got a secondhand couch with a permanent butt indent to curl up in?”
“That’s it. I’m done taking your word for it. We’re going to the doctor.”
Brantley came rushing down the hall and into the living room. He’d put on so many layers of clothes his arms wouldn’t go down all the way. “Ready!” he called out. “I put on extra stuff so it won’t hurt real bad if I fall. But I don’t think I will, ’cause I’m a super good bike rider.”
Jensen moved to him and crouched down. “Change of plans, buddy. Your momma’s feeling pretty sick today, so you and I are going run her to the doctor really quick.” His little face fell into a pout, but before he could throw a fit, Jensen continued, expertly defusing the situation. “After all, it’s our job to take care of the women in our lives, right?”
Brantley suddenly squared his shoulder and lifted his chin, apparently taking his made-up job as protector very seriously. “Right. It’s our job.”
“Yep. So why don’t you go take off a couple of those layers so we can go. But I promise we’ll ride bikes as soon as we get back. Deal?”
“Okay!” Once again cheerful, my boy ran back to his room to strip down while Jensen headed to me and gently pulled me off the couch and onto my feet.
“You know this is totally unnecessary, right? I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”
He gave me a sardonic look. “Yeah? And how’s that been working out for you the past two days?”
He had me there. Not that I’d admit it.
The drums in my head decided to kick things up a notch right then, beating so loud my eyeballs began to pulse. Maybe I needed a doctor after all.
“Fine, I’ll let you take me,” I relented with all the dignity of a spoiled brat. “But only because I don’t want to hear you bitch about it anymore.”
“Sure, honey,” he muttered, the humor clear as a bell in his voice as he hitched an arm around my waist and took most of my weight.
“There’s just one thing I have to do first.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
I answered by lurching forward and puking all over his shoes.
Chapter Seventeen
Jensen
“Well, no doubt about it, you definitely have the flu.”
At the doctor’s declaration, Shane shot me a pouty look that screamed told you so. Instead of reacting, I turned my attention to the small old man in a white coat. “So what’s next, Doc?”
He pushed his glasses up on his nose and turned to me after scribbling something down on a chart that I wouldn’t have been able to read with a microscope and all the time in the world. “Well, I’m giving her a prescription for Tamiflu.” He turned to Shane and said, “That should kick in quickly, and hopefully you’ll be back to your regularly scheduled program in a few days,” before looking back to me. “In the meantime, I want her to alternate between ibuprofen and acetaminophen every four hours until the fever breaks. Repeat if it returns. That will help with the body aches as well. Other than that, she needs a lot of rest. And call me if she doesn’t start improving within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”
“Will do. Thanks so much, Doc.”
“No problem. You can check out up front when you’re ready.” He ripped a piece of paper off his prescription pad and handed it to me before heading out of the exam room.
As soon as the door closed, Brantley looked up from the coloring book Shane had told me to grab after she finished hurling all over my shoes earlier. I was grateful that she’d been of sound mind enough to suggest it, because I’m not sure how I would have handled a sick Shane and my five-year-old son at the same time. One was perpetually grumpy and the other had limitless energy. “Are we goin’ home now?”
“Yeah, bud. We’re heading out. Get all your stuff together and put it in the bag, yeah?”
He went about doing as I’d asked while I turned to Shane, placing my hand on her thigh to keep her from climbing off the examination table. “Just wait here for a second. I’m gonna handle getting you signed out, then I’ll come back and help you to the truck.”
She gave me a hesitant nod. “Okay. If you’ll hand me my purse I’ll grab my wallet. I think I might have enough cash to cover—”
My fingers on her leg squeezed, silencing her. “I’ve got it taken care of.”
“Jensen, you can’t—”
“I’ve got it taken care of,” I repeated firmly. She curled her lips between her teeth, giving in, but I could see the struggle in her eyes. She never could stand feeling like a burden, even if the person helping her didn’t feel that way at all.
“I owe you this,” I said quietly so Brantley wouldn’t overhear. “I owe you this and so much more, sunshine. But things are about to change for you.”
“What do you mean? Does this have something to do with what you said the other night?”
“Yes, but we’ll get into it when you’re feeling better. Just know that it’s a good change, okay?”
That time her nod wasn’t hesitant at all.
I headed out of the room and took care of the bill, then I loaded the only family that had ever truly mattered into my truck and drove us back to Shane’s house.
Shane
“What’s the thumb-motor say?”
My son’s whisper-yell worked to pull me out of a restless sleep, and I slowly turned my head to find him and Jensen standing beside the bed.
“It’s back down to normal, bud. See?” Jensen held out the digital forehead thermometer I’d gotten the last time Brantley was sick, showing him the numbers on the display. “Ninety-eight point seven. That means her fever broke.”
Brantley looked up at his dad with wide, curious eyes. “That’s good, right? It means her brain won’t melt.”
“That’s exactly what it means,” he replied with a chuckle. “No melted brain.”
They both whipped their heads in my direction when I laughed.
Jensen hit me with that cocky smirk I’d fallen in love with when I was sixteen years old, and in my weakened state, I felt myself melting just a little at the sight of it. “Hey, you’re awake.”
“Hey, Mommy!” Brantley jumped up on the bed, shoving his knee right in the middle of my solar plexus as he scrambled to climb over me, but the pain was all but forgotten when he flopped to my other side and snuggled against me. “Your fever is broken. That means your brain won’t melt,” he announced seriously.
“Whew. That’s good.” I looped my arms around his little body and gave him a big hug. My arms still felt a little stiff, and there was still a dull throb behind my eyes, but for the most part I was feeling a lot better. “If I had a melted brain I probably wouldn’t remember how to make that tater tot casserole you like so much.”