“Perfect.” She smiles. “Just set it on my desk before you leave. I’ll be pulling a late one today.”
“Sounds good.”
I leave her office, glancing at the clock that reads 2 p.m. Only a few more hours until I need to grab Trace, then fret about what to wear tomorrow on ourfield trip. I blow out a breath, ready to grab the next file when my phone buzzes.
It’s the school.
Uh-oh.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Laiken, it’s Chandler. Trace isn’t feeling well and his teacher brought him to my office. He’s running a light fever and he threw up in the bathroom a few minutes ago. We have a nasty virus going around. Three other kiddos left early today.”
“Poor guy.” I rest my hand on the counter, already configuring how to shift patients around to ease the burden for Matthew. “I’ll be there shortly.”
“Everything okay?” Matthew stops next to me, closing the folder in his hand as I hang up.
“Trace is sick. I need to go pick him up.”
“No problem. Our three o’clock canceled and it’s just Mrs. Heart this afternoon. I can handle her. Go ahead.”
“You just want to date her granddaughter,” I point out with a smirk.
“Can you blame me?” He smiles, with a blush on his cheeks.
“You’re a good man, Matty.” I breeze by him and snatch my purse from my cubby. “Do you mind dropping this to Dr. Whitacker and let her know I’m leaving for the day?”
“Will do.” He takes Parker’s folder. “Hope he gets to feel better.”
“Thanks! See y’all Monday,” I call out.
I carefully inch up the front steps, carrying a sleeping Trace in my arms. He was asleep before we even left the parking lot, and as much as I still see him as mybaby, he’s almost too big for me to carry anymore. Wedging the key in the lock, I finally push the door open with my hip and struggle inside. The stairs are outof the question, so I gently settle him on the couch, take off his boots, and check his temp again with the back of my hand.
Hot.
I hate it when he’s sick. It makes me feel helpless. I mindlessly move to the kitchen and search the cabinet for the children’s Motrin. I start mapping out the intervals, already planning to give him a bath after he sleeps a little and try to get his fever down. Hopefully, this is one of those twenty-four-hour bugs. Forty-eight at the most. Anything I had planned for the weekend will have to wait.
Crap. Parker.
Digging my phone out of my bag, I pull up our text thread. It’s mostly him texting, and me responding vaguely. Apparently, our little confessional the other night still has me hiding behind hurt and fear. I roll my eyes at myself and type out a text.
Laiken: Hey, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to cancel our field trip tomorrow. Trace has a stomach bug. I had to pick him up early from school. See you on Monday.
A few minutes pass as I wash the leftover dishes in the sink, then sift through the fridge to see what options we have for dinner.
Parker: I hate that little man is sick. What do you need?
Laiken: We’re okay. Medicine and some rest and he’ll be good as new.
Parker: I won’t see you Monday.
I frown down at the phone, but before I can form a response, Trace’s voice carries from the living room.
“Mama,” he calls weakly.
I drop my phone on the counter and plug it into the charger before snatching up the Motrin.
“How are you feeling, bud?” I ask, crouching down to see his face.
