The boys, because they were kids, were bouncing back quicker than the rest.
Having everyone in the same room was easier for her to manage. She’d even set up the other couch for Travis, when he decided to get up off the floor and join them.
He wasn’t going to his bedroom because she was not giving him a bell. One bell per virus was plenty.
Also, when this was all over, Rachel was not allowing gummy bears ever, ever again. The boys could have them when they were old enough to vote. Not a second before.
Yes, she understood it was not the gummy bears’ fault that everyone got sick, but she couldn’t ban toaster tarts. She had to draw the line somewhere.
“We should play video games,” Gavin said, directing this statement to the boys. “You think we can convince your mom to set us up out here with a console?”
Yes, they could. Because if they were well enough to play video games, they were well enough for her to go crash for a while. At least, until Travis peeled himself off the floor or Evelyn rang her bell.
“Yesssss,” Brady said, his gaze settling on his dad. “We have this new game that makes everyone happy. Even Mom.”
“‘Cause she gets five minutes of peace,” Kellan parroted in a voice that sounded remarkably like Rachel’s, if she did say so herself.
She couldn’t help it, even in the midst of the destruction of their vacation, she smiled.
And wasn’t that really what motherhood was all about?
“Ha.” Rachel set up one of her hey-so-you-threw-up packets on the floor beside Kellan. It included a bowl, a wet washcloth, and nitrile gloves she’d stolen from the first aid kit—because she’d learned her lesson on not wearing those in the kitchen with Brady.
“I kind of wanted to talk to you both about Dakota first.” Gavin gave Rachel a look that seemed like he was asking for backup.
Actually, she was really interested in this conversation, too. So she was happy to give him that backup.
Gavin stared at his hands, fidgeting with them over the top of the blanket. “We broke up. She’s not going to be around to see you boys anymore.”
His words held strength, but Rachel heard the hurt beneath them. Gavin was in pain. It wasn’t just his stomach. And that sucked.
“She’s really upset about that,” Gavin continued. “The not seeing you anymore.”
Not from what Rachel had heard. She was upset about a lot, but none of it had seemed to revolve around the boys or the dogs. But whatever Gavin needed to tell himself, and the boys, to lighten the blow of losing her.
“Okay,” Kellan said, nodding.
“Sorry, Dad,” Brady followed. “She was nice.”
Then they went back to watching whatever animated show they’d found on Netflix. Like Gavin hadn’t just given them information that was seriously going to change their lives.
Gavin was blinking hard. And a whole lot.
“Are you okay?” Rachel sat at the end of the sofa where he stretched out. He didn’t look okay, but she couldn’t think of what else to ask him.
“I’m…”
“It’s okay not to be okay,” Rachel said, softly, so only Gavin could hear.
Fine. Maybe she said the words for herself a little, too. Even pale, even exhausted, he gave her a sad smile.
“That’s a very Rachel thing to say.”
“Is it?” She tilted her head to the side, studying him.
He nodded. Then he cleared his throat. “How’s Travis holding up?”
Presently he was lying down. On the tile floor of the bathroom. At least, that’s where she’d left him when she peeked in on him last.
