Page 49 of Found in Wild Sage

Finn’s smile breaks wide open. “Finn? Yeah, that’s me.”

“Pinn.” Charlie says it again, then snuggles closer into me.

It’s concerning, the fierceness with which love crowds into my chest for this baby and somehow also for my brother.

“I think he might need some fever reducer. Have you taken his temperature?”

Evie shakes her head. “No. I just started noticing he was low energy in the last twenty minutes or so, then realized he hadn’t eaten as much as he usually does for breakfast. Let me go get the thermometer.”

“We’ll get started in here, if that’s okay.”

“That’s great, thank you, Sheriff—er, Grant.” Evie shoots him a grateful smile, then leads me into the kitchen where she finds a thermometer.

It reads one hundred two. She instantly goes for medicine, and Charlie takes it without issue.

“I should probably take him to the urgent care, right? I mean, he should be seen with that kind of fever?”

It’s illogical that this should charm me or thrill me in any way. I’ve been a doctor for well over a decade and while I’m happy with my path, I’m not someone who finds his entire identity in being called a doctor.

But in this moment, I have never been more grateful I can say, “Evie, love. I’m a doctor. I can take a look right now.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Evie

I’ve seen Declan do exams on Charlie before. Mostly well-child check-ups, but he had an ear infection last spring, and we happened to see Declan then, too. He’s got a wonderful manner, and Charlie has been comfortable with him since practically day one.

Watching him listen to Charlie’s heart, lungs, and belly in his living room with a stethoscope he produced from a small bag now?

Let’s just say I can’t tell if the waves of anxiety and adrenaline are coming from that fight response that activates in moms when there’s something happening with their kid, or if it’s because seeing a man who is now my husband be so tender and thorough with my son is deadly.

Probably that one. Maybe both.

“Everything sounds good. He’s got a little nasal congestion, but no wheezing and his BP is fine. There’s a touch of redness in his throat, some swelling in the lymph nodes, but I’m not seeing anything super concerning here. We can test him for flu and the like, but I wonder if we should give it a few hours and see if other symptoms develop. It’s up to you, though.”

The instant relief of knowing there’s no major red flag here hits, followed by a searing awareness of how ruthlessly, relentlessly hot he is when he’s doing doctor things.

“I’m okay waiting, if you think it’s okay.”

Do I trust this man with my child? Yes.

With my heart? Well, also yes. It’s just that he doesn’t know he has it, and he didn’t ask for it, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t actually want it, and so that means I can’t. Which is totally fine.

Maybe Taylor Swift can do it with a broken heart, but I’ve had enough heartbreak these last few years. I don’t want any more—can’t do it again. And something tells me this one would be particularly brutal. Leaving my ex, my heart was broken for myself. For being trapped and hurt and abused. I had to sort through the feelings of betrayal and face the ugliness and depravity that gets laid bare when someone physically hurts you. It’s nauseating and yes, heartbreaking.

There have been a hundred little heartbreaks since—having my baby on the side of the road, accepting I’ll raise him alone, reflecting on how lost I’d become with Trevor. Even realizing how horrible his mother was and how she made me feel like I wasn’t good enough has been painful.

All of that and I can’t help bracing against what a heartbreak with Declan would feel like. No one has ever raised such tenderness or such longing in me. I’ve swung from doubting myself after the wedding, to accepting it’s what the normal distance between two people who’ve agreed to marry looks like. And whenever I look at Charlie, I’m renewed in the focus that I’ve made the right call. Declan would never hurt him, and keeping Charlie safe is the primary goal here.

There’s no getting around the knowledge that this heartbreak would be different, and I can’t accept it. I won’t. So… I won’t let it happen.

He brushes a hand over Charlie’s head. “Let’s give it a bit before we start swabbing. Okay, Charlie?”

“Okay.” His sweet voice rings out and he climbs back into Declan’s lap.

Even this makes my chest squeeze with love for both of them—Declan’s ready acceptance of Charlie’s choosing him and my sweet boy’s comfort with settling in with him.

We’re on the couch in his house, and in the last few minutes, Grant and Finn have started hauling things inside. They’re moving so quickly, they’ll be done within an hour, I bet.