“You don’t need to explain. Just rest.”
“But I think Abby’s mad. We planned a movie night,” she slurs.
“Abby’s not mad, love. She’s worried. We all are. But I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Jo gives the smallest nod, her hand searching blindly until she finds my fingers.
“Everything will be okay, Jo,” I promise, bringing her hand to my lips.
She drifts back into a fevered sleep, her breaths shallow. I rise to sit beside her, not letting go of her hand.
Behind me, the hallway creaks, and I turn to find Abby standing there, hugging herself.
“Is she gonna be okay?”
“She will,” I say, keeping my voice steady for Abby’s peace of mind. “It’s likely the flu. She needs rest, fluids, and maybe a doctor if she’s not better in the next few days. But I’ll stay with her. Would you mind grabbing some Tylenol if you’ve got it? And a thermometer. Can you find that for me, Abs?”
Abby nods and disappears down the hall, reappearing a moment later with a bottle of Tylenol, a forehead thermometer, and some Gatorade. She steps into the room, walks to Jo’s bedside and hands it to me.
“Thank you for showing up.”
“Abby,” I say gently. “Of course I showed up. I wish I’d shown up sooner.”
Abby nods and casts her eyes to her mom’s sleeping frame. We go quiet, watching the rise and fall of Jo’s chest.
“Can I ask you something?”
Surely she’s not about to ask if I’m her father. She’s eyeing me with a shrewd expression, but this cannot be the way she finds out. Not when she’s worried sick about her mom and everyone’s emotions are already all over the place.
“Do you love my mom?”
Letting my eyes search Abby’s for a beat, I finally respond. “I care deeply about all three of you.” Though I’d love to let the world know how much I feel for Jo and her family, the first person who should hear it isn’t Abby, but Jo herself.
That response seems to satisfy Abby because she offers a small smile and I return it with one of my own.
She turns on her heel to leave Jo’s bedroom, but stops at the doorway and turns back.
“She never lets anyone take care of her, ya know,” Abby says quietly. “She always says she’s fine even when she’s not.”
I glance back at Jo, her body curled beneath the covers, her hand still wrapped loosely around my own. “She doesn’t have to do that anymore.”
Abby nods. “Good. I’m glad it’s you.”
Those four words hit me harder than I expect.I’m glad it’s you. This kid has no clue how glad I am that it’s me. And not just for Jo, but for her and Jay, too.
“Why don’t we order something from the diner for dinner,” I suggest. “I’ll be here if you or Jay need anything tonight.”
After dinner I must fall asleep next to Jo, because when she whimpers softly, I’m wide awake, reaching for her. When my hand wraps around the side of her neck, I almost recoil. Her skin is like summer heat rolling off black pavement. Earlier, I managed to get some medicine in her, but it seems it’s not touching this fever. I press a hand to her cheek then her forehead and she leans into my touch with a soft moan.
Grabbing the thermometer, I power it on to check her temperature. 103.1. God, that’s high.
“Jo, love. I need you to wake up.”
“Hmm.” She stirs, humming in the back of her throat, but her eyes don’t open.
Standing, I go to Jo’s bathroom and turn on the faucet, checking the temperature a few times until it’s lukewarm. Hopefully this will bring her fever down. I grab a towel and washcloth from her linen closet and return to Jo’s bedside.
“Jo,” I say, more forceful this time. “We need to get you in a bath. You’re burning up.”
