My heart thudded against my ribs. He couldn’t have given me a better answer. It was a promise that stole another piece of my heart. “Thief,” I whispered.
Cope grinned down at me. “Whatever it takes.”
“Mom?” Luca called. His tone had changed, and that slight difference had my mom senses on alert.
Cope released me just in time for us to see Luca walking down the hall a little drunkenly, a hand on his stomach. “I don’t feel good.”
He barely got the words out before puking all over Cope’s entryway.
37
SUTTON
The thermometer beeped,and I pulled it away from Luca’s forehead. 101.7 degrees. I winced. I needed to get some Tylenol in him, but that would be difficult when he’d already thrown up three times in a row.
Cope hovered behind me, peering over my shoulder. “Shit. Should we take him to the emergency room? That’s high.”
His concern had everything in me warming. And, God, it was nice to have someone with me. Someone who could make a run to the store or the pharmacy. For the first time in too long, I didn’t feel quite so alone.
“He’ll be okay. I just need to get some Tylenol in him, but we need his nausea to get better first,” I said.
“I might be able to help.” Arden’s voice came from the doorway. She’d come over to take charge of Gretzky, her massive dog, Brutus, very unsure how he felt about his new cousin. She lifted a glass jar with what almost looked like tiny pieces of bark. “Sassafras tea. My mom always made it for me when I was throwing up. It helps nausea better than any medicine.”
It was the first time I’d heard Arden mention her mother—or family of any sort, for that matter. I didn’t know much about her history, family or otherwise, just that she’d come to live with the Colsons when she was twelve.
I pushed up from the bed and crossed to her. “I’ve heard about this and meant to try it.”
She sent me a gentle smile, but her gaze quickly moved to Luca in the bed, worry filling her eyes. “If this doesn’t help, we can call Dr. Avery. He’ll make a house call.”
“Maybe we should call him now,” Cope cut in.
“Let’s try this first,” I said. “I don’t want to make him come all the way out here for a simple stomach flu.”
Luca twisted in the sheets, waking fitfully. “Mommy?”
God, it had been so long since he’d used that term, and it was like a knife to the gut. I hurried over to the bed, sinking back onto the mattress. “I’m right here, baby.” I set the jar on the nightstand and picked up the washcloth from the bowl of ice water. Wringing it out, I pressed it to his forehead.
“Hurts,” he croaked.
“Where?” I asked, a little more worry niggling at me.
“Everywhere.”
Cope snagged the tea from the nightstand. “I’ll get this stupid bark tea brewed, but if it doesn’t work, I’m calling Dr. Avery.” With that, he stormed out of the room.
“Don’t take it personally,” Arden said as she moved toward the bed. “Cope doesn’t do well when the people he loves are hurting.”
That word—loves—had my heart beating a little faster as I moved the washcloth to Luca’s cheek. “I get it. I hate when Luca’s sick.”
“I hate it, too,” Luca mumbled and then drifted back into that restless sleep.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Arden whispered. “It’s like your heart is walking around outside your body.”
I put the washcloth back into the ice water. “There have been more than a few days where it’s been heart attack inducing.”
Arden’s gaze moved from Luca to me. “He’s lucky to have you.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
