AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You normally feel this warm, duck?” I asked her.
But Mira immediately lay down, settling into the corner of the crib that she liked best and pulling her duck in toward her face.
I pressed the back of my hand to her forehead again, but my hands were so calloused that I probably could have held them over a fire and hardly noticed the heat.
My stomach tightened uncomfortably.
I walked out of Mira’s room and started searching through a hallway closet, but I couldn’t find a thermometer.
With a deep breath, I pushed open the door to Chris and Amie’s room. It was the only room in the house that I left alone. I still felt a bit like I was intruding into someone’s private space, despite the fact that I’d been living in their house for the last couple of weeks.
I didn’t study the large framed photos on the wall and kept my gaze straight ahead, directed toward their massive bathroom suite.
The soaking tub in the corner was big enough that I could fit comfortably inside, and that was saying something because I never fit into bathtubs. The shower—with glass walls and beautiful tiles—was about as big as my current bed.
And along the back wall, next to the toilet, was another door. I opened it up and saw a bin labeled “Mira—Medicine.” I pulled it out, passing my hands over bottles of liquid ibuprofen and boxes of Band-Aids. Tucked in the back was a wand that looked sort of like a speed gun that a cop might use.
I held it up and shrugged.
When I peeked back in on Mira, I saw that she had fallen fast asleep in the short time I’d been gone from the room. My chest felt heavy, like someone had parked a linebacker right over my sternum and I couldn’t move the fucker no matter what I did.
Zoe was right next door, I reminded myself as I aimed the thermometer gun at Mira’s forehead and pressed the blue button.
It emitted a small beep, and the screen flashed red.
“Shit,” I whispered.
One-oh-two point five.
That was bad, right? I’d had a fever the year before, hardly above one hundred, and I’d thought I was dying for about twenty-four hours.
I swiped a hand over my mouth and straightened.
Mira bolted up in bed, her eyes blank.
I settled a hand on her back. “What’s wrong, duck?” I whispered.
She didn’t see me, though. She started spewing nonsensical words and glancing around the room. Her hands started patting the duck.
Bloody fucking hell, what was I supposed to do with a feverish sleep-talking child?
I gently patted her back and made a small shushing noise. “Back to sleep now,” I whispered. “Come on.”
She blinked a few times, still not seeing me, then fell back onto the bed and snuggled up against her duck.
I tried very hard not to sprint down the stairs, deciding to bypass my phone completely. If Zoe was asleep, she wouldn’t be for long.
I pushed open the gate connecting our yards and strode quickly to her back slider, then knocked on the glass.
“It’s me,” I called. “Come on, Zoe, I need those fucking binders or something.”
A light flipped on in her family room, and she pulled a blanket tight around her shoulders as she unlocked the door. “What is it?”
“She’s got a fever.” I was out of breath. How was I out of breath from just crossing one backyard? “A bad one.”
Zoe nodded. “Okay, let me pull some pants on, and I’ll be right over.”
My eyes darted unwillingly down the bare length of her legs—and locked there.
