Liam leans in next to my ear. “Not just upstairs.”
“I heard that. Would pancakes and bacon shut you up?” Connor says.
“I had a smoothie this morning, so I’m good. Aiden still asleep?”
I check my phone for the time and frown. Aiden’s usually awake by now. “I’ll go check on him.”
Rising onto my tiptoes, I kiss Liam on the cheek and head to Aiden’s room. I knock softly on the door in case he’s indecent, but he doesn’t answer. “Aiden. It’s me. Are you up?”
I hear Jerry rustling the hay in the bottom of his enclosure, but not a single peep from Aiden. I crack open the door and peek inside. Aiden is still in bed with the covers pulled up to his chin, but his face is damp and his brows are drawn together like he’s in pain.
Padding softly into the room, I sit on the edge of his bed and place the back of my palm against his forehead and then his cheek. It takes mere seconds to realize he’s burning up.
The door creaks, and I turn to find Liam standing there.
“He has a fever. We should wake him.”
“Ok. I’ll get the kit.”
“Kit?”
“When Aiden was little, he was diagnosed with failure to thrive. I think they call it something different now. Anyway,it meant that he was more susceptible to illness and infection. His fevers were always abnormally high, so I keep a kit on hand in case he gets sick.”
The more I learn about Aiden’s childhood, the more I want to protect him. He’s had so much shit thrown at him in his short life, and he’s still the sweetest kid in the world. I know several grown ass adults who aren’t as well-adjusted as Aiden.
I try to keep the worry from showing on my face. The last thing Liam needs is the nanny panicking over a fever. “I’ll try to wake him.”
Liam leaves, and I press my hand to Aiden’s cheek. “Hey, little man. Can you wake up for me?”
He doesn’t stir. I pull back the covers a little bit, hoping the cool air will rouse him.
Sure enough, his eyelashes start to flutter against his cheeks, and he blinks up at me. “Ruby?” he says, his voice low and groggy. “I don’t feel good.”
He starts to sit up, but I place a hand on his shoulder and stop him. “Don’t get up. Your dad went to get the kit for you.”
Liam returns with what appears to be a tackle box and sits on the opposite side of the bed.
“Dad,” Aiden croaks out. “I feel yucky.”
“I know, bud. We need to get your fever down, ok? I need you to take this.” He holds out a small cup with pink liquid.
Aiden leans forward enough for Liam to help him tip it up. He winces as he swallows, and Liam follows it up with a juice box chaser.
“Good job,” Liam says.
I smile and pat his knee over the comforter. “I’m impressed. I used to hate taking that stuff.”
He looks up at me, face pale and eyes pleading. “I think…” Aiden doesn’t get to finish his sentence as he vomits into my lap. It’s mostly a mixture of medicine and juice, and it instantly soaks through my sleep shorts. “I’m sorry, Ruby,” he whines.
“It’s ok.” The smell hits my nostrils, and I gag.
Liam snorts.
I pin him with a warning glare. “Don’t you dare laugh at me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Go get cleaned up. I’ll work on getting the sheets swapped out.”
I emerge from the hallway looking like I just won a Kids’ Choice Award.
