Page 124 of His Surrender

She stands carefully, placing Liana into my arms before hurrying toward the entryway. I settle Liana against my chest. She lets out a tiny whimper before resting her cheek against my shoulder.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, rubbing slow circles across her back. “Daddy’s here.”

A few moments later, Aubrey returns, carrying a small pharmacy bag.

“They’re fast.” She smiles faintly. “I might have paid for priority delivery.”

I blink. “You thought of that?”

“I wasn’t sure how worried I should be.”

She kneels beside the coffee table, opening the box before reading the instructions twice and turning the thermometer on.

“You’ve done this before?”

She glances up. “No, but I’ve seen neighborhood moms do it.”

Something inside me eases just enough to take a full breath.

Good.

One of us knows something about what we’re doing.

Liana squirms weakly as I help position her head so Aubrey can get a reading.

The room falls completely silent. Even the soft music that usually fills the apartment is gone.

The only sound is the faint electronic countdown in Aubrey’s hand.

Beep.

She pulls it away and studies the screen. Long enough that my stomach drops.

“What does it say?”

She turns it toward me. “One hundred.”

I stare at the numbers.

One hundred. I know that’s high, but not as high as it could be.

“That’s a fever.”

Aubrey nods. “It is.”

I look between the thermometer and my daughter.

For a few seconds, neither of us moves. The thermometer rests forgotten in Aubrey’s hand while I continue staring at Liana, searching her face for … I don’t even know what.

Some sign that she’s okay or that she isn’t.

She shifts against my chest with a sleepy little whimper before nuzzling closer, her warm cheek settling against the collar of my dress shirt.

She’s always loved falling asleep like this. Usually, I love it too. Today, it only reminds me that she’s warmer than she should be.

I brush my lips across the top of her head.

Aubrey quietly sets the thermometer on the coffee table before kneeling in front of the pharmacy bag she carried in from the entryway.