Well, crap. He’d called their mother.
“She also said she’s on her way,” Gavin continued, and this time he sounded apologetic.
Rachel groaned louder. “Maybe let’s do the doctor thing. A hospital visit sounds fabulous. Maybe they’ll even poke me with a bunch of needles.”
“Mama’s really good when someone’s sick.” Travis reached for Rachel’s hand.
She let him hold on to it, not moving or batting him away when he slipped his palm against hers.
“I’m fine. I’m up. I don’t need Evelyn’s help.” She started to lift herself to a sitting position, apparently ready to illustrate how fine she was.
Then she swayed a little and fell back to the bed. “I think I’m just going to lie here. If your mom’s coming over, can somebody go get me a bell?”
He was absolutely not going to give her a bell—she’d probably bonk his mother over the noggin with it.
When Travis had been sick, he hadn’t wanted anyone to touch him, move him, or talk to him. Rachel had managed all of that while still taking care of him and everyone else.
Perhaps it was time they all took care of her for a change.
“Rach,” he said, wanting to touch her so badly, it bordered on painful. “Can I stay here with you?”
It was subtle, but she nodded. “Someone’s got to play interference with your mother.”
“I think she’s feeling bad about how it went up at the lake,” he said.
And she should, because she was a total… How would Rachel say it? Puffle Yum Momster.
“Can you bring me my computer? It’s on my desk,” Rachel said into the pillow, the words muffled.
He touched the crown of her head, gently so he wouldn’t make the room spin. “You need to rest, not work.”
“I need to email my client.” She turned so her mouth wasn’t pressed into the pillow.
Travis winced at the way she said, “my client.” The one client. The last one. Travis wanted to fix this for her, but she didn’t want him to. The truth of the matter was that she didn’t need him to. Rachel would fix it. He knew she could.
“To let him know I’m out right now.”
Ah. Well, that made sense. If she wasn’t answering for Travis, she probably wouldn’t answer for her client, either.
“Can I take it back downstairs as soon as you’re done?” He moved his hand lightly over the knots in her hair.
She gave him a look that would melt the plastic right off a light switch.
“So you can rest,” he added, removing his hand from her hair. “And get better.”
The glare continued.
“Rach.” He moved so they were face-to-face. “What would you tell me to do if I were the sick one?”
She grunted. “Fine. One email and you can put it away.”
“That’s my girl,” he said softly. “Leaning in to self-care.”
“If you start talking about airplanes and me needing to put my own oxygen mask on first, you can stop now. Molly gives me that lecture all the time.”
“Ahh…” He pressed a kiss against her forehead. “But Molly is not a licensed pilot.”
Rachel smiled then. A barely there lift of the edges of her lips before she closed her eyes again.
