She nods vigorously. “Yep, and then Rett pushed me on the swings forhours. He’s the best brother.”
I smile. “You’re pretty lucky.”
“Eat up, pipsqueak,” Everett says with a chuckle. “I’ve got some gelato in the fridge for dessert, then I’ll take you home.”
The smile remains fixed to my lips as I watch Everett dote on his little sister, but I can’t ignore the tightening in my chest as I remember how easy my relationship with my sister used to be. Tori was more than just my big sister. She was my whole world. It kills me that I ruined that. Visiting her over Christmas made me realise things will never be the same between us.
Seeing my only living relative scared of me? That fucking broke me.
After Tinsley finishes her pasta, I help her carry her dishes to the sink while Everett scoops some gelato into bowls.
“Here you go, pipsqueak,” he says, placing one in front of her. “Your favourite. Mango.”
“Thanks, Rett.” She beams up at him before digging in.
I’m rinsing a plate in the sink when she coughs and says, “My mouth feels funny.”
My stomach drops, and I glance over my shoulder. “Funny how?”
She shrugs, licking her lips. “Tingly.”
I race over, crouching down by her chair. There’s already a faint redness creeping up her neck.
“Are you itchy?”
She nods, scratching at her chest now. “And my throat feels weird.”
I don’t hesitate. “Everett, where’s the tub?”
He blinks at me. “What?”
“The tub of gelato. Grab it for me.”
He rushes to the freezer to pull out the tub, his eyes scanning the label.
“No, no, no, no,” he mutters, panic clear when he lifts his eyes to me. “This one has skim milk powder in it.”
“Get her EpiPen,” I say, trying to keep my tone calm so I don’t scare Tinsley.
She coughs again, and I turn my attention back to her.
“Hey, Sprout, can you take a deep breath for me?”
She tries. It comes out tight, followed by a small wheeze.
“I can’t breathe properly,” she whimpers.
Her lips are swelling. Hives spread across her arms.
“Everett,” I grit out. “I need that EpiPen. Now.”
His face is pale as he searches through her bag.
I lower Tinsley to the floor, keeping her flat. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
Everett thrusts the EpiPen into my hand.
“Call triple zero,” I say, removing the cap. “Tell them we have a four-year-old, anaphylaxis, adrenaline administered.”
