She nods, relief washing over her face. "Please."
The examination room is small, barely fitting the four of us. The nurse takes Poppy's temperature again, still 103, and asks a series of questions that Sadie answers in a voice that's remarkably steady despite her obvious panic. I stand slightly behind her, one hand resting lightly on her back, letting her know I'm there.
The doctor arrives shortly after, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes who examines Poppy thoroughly. I watch Sadie's face as the doctor checks Poppy's ears, throat, and chest. Her jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle twitching.
"It's an ear infection," the doctor finally announces. "A pretty severe one, which explains the high fever. We'll start her on antibiotics right away."
Sadie's shoulders sag with relief. "Just an ear infection? You're sure?"
"Positive," the doctor says with a reassuring smile. "Very common in children her age. The antibiotics will kick in within twenty-four hours—and the fever should come down soon with medication."
As the doctor writes out prescriptions and care instructions, I slip out to the waiting room. There's a small café area near the entrance, and I grab bottled water, juice, and a few packaged snacks. When I return, Rowan is sitting alone in the waiting area.
"Where are they?" I ask, handing her a water.
"Still getting the prescription," she says, accepting the bottle. "Thanks for this. And for driving her here."
I shrug. "Of course."
Rowan studies me for a long moment. "You know, when Sadie first mentioned you, I was skeptical."
"I noticed," I say dryly.
Her lips quirk up slightly. "Can you blame me? My sister's been through a lot."
"No, I can't blame you at all." I sit down beside her. "I'd be the same way if it were my sister."
"But you've been…" She pauses, seemingly searching for the right word. "Good for her, I think. I haven't seen her let anyone in for a long time."
Before I can respond, Sadie emerges with Poppy in her arms. The baby looks drowsy now, her head resting on Sadie's shoulder. The flush in her cheeks isn't quite as bright.
"The fever's starting to come down," Sadie tells us, relief evident in her voice. "They gave her something stronger here."
"That's great," I say, standing. "I got some water and snacks for the ride home."
Sadie looks at me with such naked gratitude that it almost hurts. "Thank you," she says softly. "For everything."
I brush a hand lightly over Poppy's curls, then rest it briefly on Sadie's shoulder. "Let's get you both home."
The drive back is quiet, Poppy sleeping in Sadie's lap. Occasionally, Sadie strokes her daughter's hair or checks her forehead with the back of her hand. I keep the radio off and drive as smoothly as possible, avoiding bumps and taking turns gently.
When we reach her apartment, I insist on walking them up. Poppy stirs only slightly as Sadie carries her inside and lays her in her crib. I wait in the living room, giving them space for this private moment. Through the partially open door, I can see Sadie leaning over the crib, whispering something I can't hear. The tenderness of the moment catches in my throat.
I sink onto the couch, suddenly aware of how drained I am. The adrenaline that carried me through the urgent care visit is ebbing, leaving me hollow and tired. I can only imagine how Sadie feels.
When she finally emerges, quietly closing Poppy's door behind her, the exhaustion is written across every line of her body. Her shoulders slump, the worried crease between her brows finally relaxing. She moves toward me like she's wading through water, each step heavy with fatigue.
"She's sleeping," Sadie whispers, collapsing beside me on the couch. "The fever's down to 100.2."
"That's good," I say, keeping my voice low. "Doctor said it would keep dropping."
She nods, leaning her head back against the cushions. In the dim light of the living room, I can see the shadows under her eyes, the way her hands still tremble slightly.
"I'm so sorry about ruining our date," she says, eyes closed. "That wasn't exactly how I pictured the evening going."
I reach over and take her hand, threading our fingers together. "It wasn't ruined. I got time with you. That's the whole point."
She turns her head to look at me, surprise flickering across her face. "Most guys wouldn't consider an urgent care visit a successful date."
