“Like shit.”
“Trace,” I try to scold, but I find myself stifling a laugh.
I’ll have to have a serious talk with the guys about their language in front of him.
“Sorry. It’s the truth,” he mumbles.
“How about we get some meds in you, then take a bath and get your PJs on?”
He nods, yawning as he stretches his arms. “My stomach hurts.”
“I know, baby.” I bend down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Come on.”
He sluggishly climbs off the couch, rubbing his eyes. “Cowboys don’t get sick.”
“I don’t know about that. Uncle Maddox got sick one time. He missed school for a whole week.”
He had mono, and Brady badgered him about it for months since Carly Camp had it the week before.
“You can’t tell him I threw up.” His eyes widen. “I’ll lose my cowboy card.”
“Your what?” I snort.
“It’s real. Coop has one.”
“Does he?”
“Yep. But not every man has one.” His expression grows serious. “And I want to keep mine.”
“Well, then consider my lips sealed.”
His smile is dim, and just when I’m about to gather him up in my arms, he leans forward without warning and pukes all over my scrubs.
Chapter thirty-one
Parker
I lift my free hand and knock on the front door. My other hand holds three plastic sacks. I spent the afternoon helping Maddox sort through some new bulls, and when I got Laiken’s text about Trace, the last place I wanted to be was in the arena. I didn’t care if we went to an elephant sanctuary or we vegged out in front of the TV. I didn’t care if I was cleaning up Trace’s puke. I’ve spent years knowing where I wanted to be. And now that I’m here, nothing is keeping me from them.
It takes a few minutes for the door to open, and Laiken’s face flashes with surprise when she sees me standing on the porch.
“Parker? What are you doing here?” She frowns.
“Bringing reinforcements.” I lift the bags. “Can I come in?”
She steps aside before closing the door behind me. I head straight to the kitchen.
“All right, I’ve got three different soups. Saltines and ginger ale. I even got some Pepto. The kids’ kind.” I drop the bags on the counter and start to empty the contents. “There’s also some Tylenol and cooling packs to help with fever.”
Laiken hasn’t spoken yet, so I glance over my shoulder and find her standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at me. Then I notice the tears.
Shit.
“Did I overstep?” I leave the bags. “I’m sorry. I can lea—”
The words are barely out of my mouth before she launches herself at me. I catch her with ease as her arms wind around my neck. I haven’t held her in my arms in years. And fuck if it doesn’t feel like coming home. Neither of us speaks. I keep her strapped to my chest, one hand cupping the back of her head.
“Thank you.” Her whisper is faint but present.
