I drop my things, follow her, and put a hand to her head. “You feel warm.”
“I feel like my whole body has been put through a blender.”
Amelia tackles me from behind, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Carter!”
I turn and pull her up into my arms. “Hey, pumpkin.” Instinctively, my hand touches her forehead, and I’m relieved she doesn’t seem sick too.
“Sorry you drove all the way here for nothing,” Kenna says, eyes half open.
“It’s not for nothing. When was the last time you ate?”
Her lips sneer in disgust. “Not hungry.”
I set Amelia down. “What have you eaten today?”
“Cereal for breakfast. Peanut butter and jelly for lunch.” She beams. “I made it myself.”
I look over at the kitchen counter to see it covered with globs of grape jelly.
Kenna puts a hand over her eyes as if the light bothers her. “I’m sorry it’s such a mess. I just—”
“Hey. You’re sick. You shouldn’t be cooking or cleaning. That’s what I’m here for.” I walk over to my bag and pull out several games. “And to provide entertainment.”
“You brought Candy Land!” Amelia squeals and dances around.
“You bet I did. After I make your mom some soup, you and I are going to have a game day.” I motion to the bag. “There are others in there.”
Amelia immediately starts digging through the bag. She pulls out all the games and then the other things. She holds up a candle. “Why do we need candles? The lights work.” Then she gets out the bottle of wine and the box of chocolates. “Ooooooo… chocolate!”
I swipe them from her. “Those were supposed to be for your mom.” Then I hand them back. “I guess they’re yours now. But save them for after dinner, okay, kiddo?”
Kenna’s eyes open. “You brought wine and chocolate? And candles?”
I point to the fireplace, then shrug.
She looks guilty. “I’m sorry I ruined the night you had planned.”
I tuck her blanket around her. “You just rest.”
After Kenna gets down half a bowl of soup, a few crackers, and two Tylenol, I settle her into bed. The rest of the afternoon went exactly like this: Candy Land, four games of tic-tac-toe, outside to build a Frosty, hot chocolate, one hour on the PlayStation, and currently, we’re on our fifteenth game of Go Fish.
Amelia puts her cards down. “Carter? I don’t feel so good.” Then she turns and vomits.
Ah, and there it is. I shake my head. Shoulda seen that coming.
I get her cleaned up, change her clothes, and put her to bed right next to Kenna.
Before I can leave the room, Kenna reaches out to me. “Stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I assure her.
“I mean, stay here. On the bed. I just want to hear your voice. There’s something about it that makes me feel better.Youalways make me feel better.”
I don’t know if it’s her or the fever talking, but I snuggle in next to her, wrap an arm around her warm body, and whisper-spill my guts out. I tell her about my childhood. About Christian. About the shop and how I’ll have to go have that talk with John Walker at the bank soon. And then I tell the funny story of the same John Walker dating my mom before she and my dad got together.
Every time I think she’s drifted off to sleep, her hand moves and grabs mine, a silent invitation to keep talking. I think Ispend half the night regaling her with tales of my life. I doubt she’s really listening, but I couldn’t care less. Because she’s in my arms.
When her breathing evens out, her hand falls away, and I hear a sexy little snore, I whisper the one thing I haven’t said. The one thing I’ve wanted to say for weeks.
