Her glossy eyes drag up to mine. “He’s going to take my kids.”
“Come on. You need to get inside.” I lead her up the porch steps and into the house.
Ollie is on the floor, enclosed by a circle of Hot Wheels, and Grover pops up to greet me. “Swade, wook! I gots all my trucks.” He points to his organization while I usher Sarah inside.
Frankie’s cries filter down the hall, and Sarah snaps to. She disappears into a room while I try to figure out what in the hell to do.
I squat down beside Ollie. “Hey, partner.” He begins on a ring of cars. “Is your mom sick?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “I p-p-puked in the kitchen the other night. It was so g-gross.”
I pull out my phone and message Krissy, letting her know I might not be back.
Sarah returns with Frankie curled against her, but she looks like she might pass out. “Sorry, you shouldn’t—”
“Give me the baby, Sarah.”
Her eyes rise to mine. “She’s sick and full of snot.”
“Give her to me.”
She stares at me, looking like she mightmelt to the floor.
“I’m not afraid of snot or anything else.” I hold out my arms. “You need to lie down.” I nod toward the couch.
After a moment, her face scrunches. “I think I might be sick.” She pulls Frankie from her chest and hands her to me, then drops to the couch, curling into a ball.
I adjust Frankie against me, resting her head on my shoulder. I lean, running the back of my fingers over Sarah’s forehead. Her eyes fall closed.
“Have you taken anything?”
She shakes her head.
“Do you have Tylenol?”
“Only for the kids,” she mumbles.
I push out a breath, thinking. I carry Frankie to the kitchen and pull the first aid kit from above the refrigerator. Thankfully, it includes Ibuprofen.
I get a glass of water and sit on the end of the couch. Sarah sits up enough to swallow the pills. When I shift, her hand jets out and grabs mine.
“I need you to stay.” Her eyes are closed, but her voice is filled with worry.
I sit and run my fingers over her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.” Those words crack open something deep inside me, and warmth cascades over the cold fears of not being needed or enough.
This is where I want to be. I want to help and make just one thing better.
“He’ll take my kids,” she sniffs, and a tear trickles from the corner of her eye.
“Shhh.” I brush the hair away from her face. “It’s going to be ok.”
She grabs my hand and holds it to her chest as if she might never let it go.
I inhale and let it out, thinking I might be ok with that.
Frankie’s face presses into my neck, and her stuffy, rhythmic snores calm my nerves.
“Hey, Ol,” I whisper, and he looks up at me, a line of snot dripping onto his lip. “Go grab the Kleenexes.”
