Page 34 of Already Callin’ You Mine

She looks at me quizzically, tilting her head to one side, my incoherent half answer not fully registering.

“You weren’t in the office, even though you scheduled our meeting this afternoon,” I start to ramble. “If you’d wanted to cancel, all you had to do was say so. I don’t want to do this stupid thing anyway⁠—”

“Didn’t you get my text?” she spits out, not letting me finish.

Now it’s my turn to look at her funny.

“I sent you a text!”

She spins on her heel, taking off inside the house and leaving her front door wide open. I wait for a second, trying to figure out what to do, then follow her inside. Sure, I’m inviting myself in—sorta—but she did leave the door open. So, that’s sort of like telling me I’m welcome. Or at least it’s not telling me to get off her lawn.

“I sent a…oh, shit…” she mutters, looking at her phone. “I didn’t hit send.” She looks up at me, her body deflating as another strand of hair falls in her face. “Okay, so I typed a message, letting you know I needed to reschedule.”

Right, well…typing doesn’t count. There’s a part of me that wants to tell her that. Give her the grief I know she would give me if I had done such a thing. That she started the other day with her threat. But there’s another part of me that recognizes that today isn’t going so well for her and that maybe I should bite my tongue.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re in my house though.”

And then she says that.

I hold up the bag again. “Miss Belle sent me with this. I don’t know why or what it is, but apparently it was important. More important than you honoring your commitments or working a full day. I hope you’re not this⁠—”

“Mama…” a little voice cuts me off.

Presley and I both freeze, the pain in that voice piercing through the air like a spear.

“I frowed up…”

I turn, my gaze landing on Otis, his little body slumped down, looking defeated. There’s a cartoon dog in a police uniform I don’t recognize on his pajama shirt, that is now covered in a vomit stain—as are the matching pants.

My heart shatters.

Soup…

The realization hits me like a sumo wrestler, physically knocking me back a step. Miss Belle sent soup. Inside this bag is a big ol’ container of chicken noodle. I’d also bet pretty much everything I own that there’s a grilled cheese in here as well—since that was the go-to in our house growing up when any of us were sick. Now that I think about it, all of us Hayes kids still gravitate to those comfort foods too.

“Oh, buddy…” Presley cries, rushing to him. She sinks to her knees so she’s eye level with him, brushing his soft hair out of his face. “It’s okay. Let’s go get you cleaned up again.”

Otis nods, his matching blue eyes looking upset. Turning to head back down the hall, he looks up, noticing me still standing just inside the door.

“Jace?”

My name in his sweet little kid voice was adorable the first time I heard it, but now, with the weight of not feeling well sitting on him, it tears apart my insides. I have to fight the urge to scoop him up and hold him, telling him that everything is going to be okay.

“Hey, Little Man.”

“I frowed up.”

I put the bag of food down, walking toward him and kneeling down next to Presley. To my surprise, she doesn’t bristle or move away. Instead, she smiles warmly at me.

“I can see that. Upset tummy?”

Otis nods, his frown plastered in place. I wish I could snap my fingers and make him feel better. I don’t have those kinds of magic powers though. What I do have is soup and a movie collection that can heal pretty much any soul. I would bet there’s one thing that Miss Belle forgot though.

“Know what I like to do when I have an upset tummy?” I ask, keeping my voice happy and light. Otis shrugs. “I like to curl up on the couch under a blankie with some ginger ale and watch my favorite movie. Does that sound like fun?”

Otis lights up, a zing of energy passing through him. I can see he likes this plan.

Good man…