It gives me a chance to see if there’s a hotel, someplace where we can lie low for a bit.
I bundle Zeke back up into his winter coat and boots. He’s screaming at the top of his lungs, not the least bit thrilled, and neither am I.
A couple of patrons on the bus are glaring at me, and I give them an apologetic smile. We won’t survive a drive to Vegas.
At the next stop, I disembark with the backpack over my shoulders, Zeke holding my hand and the car seat in my other hand, filled with our recent purchases from the rest stop, consisting of snacks for Zeke, some baby Tylenol, diapers, and wipes.
It’s blustery outside, the air whipping at me, and Zeke is inconsolable as the cold chill beats at us.
I lift Zeke onto my hip, holding him against me. He buries his face in my jacket as I survey the small town.
There’s a motel not too far in the distance, across the street from the fast-food chain. I head for the motel, opting for a room. At least if I can get Zeke settled and rested, perhaps tomorrow, we can take the next bus.
Although I don’t have my phone to purchase a bus ticket and there appears to be no bus station nearby.
That’s tomorrow’s problem.
Right now, I’m more concerned about Zeke and his apparent fever.
I manage to secure a room, using Kensley’s credit card, and retrieve the key.
Zeke is fussing the entire time. “It’s okay. We’re going to rest soon,” I say.
He’s already missed his afternoon nap. He’s a joy to be around when he follows his routine but add a fever to the mix and all hell breaks loose.
Not that I should be surprised.
Today hasn’t been a typical Saturday for any of us.
After we get settled and I drop off our things, I take him across the street to grab a quick bite to eat. I’m starving, but I’ve been giving Zeke snacks to try to settle him down. I doubt he has an appetite anyhow.
I order a burger and fries and get Zeke a kid’s meal, in hopes that he’ll get some protein in him. Crackers, pretzels, and chips aren’t exactly sustenance.
Zeke sits in my lap while I shred his chicken fingers, making them bite-sized pieces for him to feed himself.
He’s sniffly and tear-stained, but he grabs the chicken with his fist, palming it before shoving it into his mouth.
I’m relieved that he’s quiet for a few minutes, which gives me a few seconds to take a bite of my burger. I’m absolutely famished. I didn’t eat anything for breakfast, and it’s already nearing dinner time.
It’s dark outside, but not quite Zeke’s bedtime. It’s still a little early. He finishes the last bite of his chicken and reaches for my fries.
“You’ve got fruit,” I say, pointing at the cut up fresh fruit bites on the napkin for him to eat.
He wrestles forward, squirming for my French fry.
“Okay.” I relent and rip a tiny bite off, so he doesn’t shove the entire fry into his mouth. He grabs it, and his eyes widen as he tastes the salty delight.
He points to my fries, wanting more.
So much for trying to get him to eat healthy. I kiss his forehead. He’s still warm, but it’s not as raging as it was earlier.
Crying will also make him run a bit warm, and he’s settled down now that he’s eating dinner. While it’s not the best meal, it’s better than snack food.
Sitting by the window, I glance out at the bus, the other patrons climbing back on, getting ready to leave town.
My breath catches in my throat when Luca’s vehicle slowly pulls up in front of the bus, blocking it.
I glance away, hoping that maybe if I don’t look in his direction, he won’t see me inside the window of the restaurant.
