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I’ve never been so fucking happy to have someone mother-hen me as much as Jess likes to, but I don’t want to talk about me.
“I’m good, Jess. How’s Carys?”
“Sinclair.” Jessie points her phone toward Ford’s face. “Get your goddamned mind in the game. And get the fuck home. We need you back here.”
“Will do, Master Chief. Two months to go. Now tell me, how’s Carys?” I know he means well, but it’s twenty-one-hundred hours here. Nothing’s happening. And he’d be freaking out if Jessie was the one sick... again.
“She’s okay, Coop. She’s running a fever. Really fatigued.” Jessie sighs. “She’s not pregnant, so you get to live another day.”
Holy shit. I didn’t even know that was a concern.
“Theo mentioned she’s stopped running, but if anything, she looks thinner to me now than she did when we had lunch a few weeks ago.” Jessie keeps talking, and everything she says fucks with my mind even more. “Her doctor’s appointment is Friday. I told her I’d go with her, but she may have been asleep by then.”
Christ, I feel like an ass. I should be there, taking care of her, instead of asking Ford and Jessie to do it. “Seriously, Jessie. Thank you. I wish I was there.”
“Don’t worry about it, Coop. That’s what families are for. Listen, don’t call her tonight. She needs to rest. Call tomorrow. But don’t worry if she doesn’t answer. She may just sleep through the day. Theo’s there if she needs anything.”
I can’t hide my answering groan.
I guess little drummer boy isn’t so bad after all.
“And Ford and I are just a call away. Most of the guys are coming to our house for turkey tomorrow, so we won’t be far.”
A smile stretches across my face, thinking about the Thanksgiving Day football game we played at Ford’s last year and the amazing dinner Jessie and Rook made.
“Wish I was gonna be there, guys.”
“Go to bed, Sinclair,” Ford groans. “Check in with your girl tomorrow. We’ll see you in a few months.”
Yeah... a few more months.
Before I can go to bed, I shoot Carys a text.
Coop:Hey baby. When you feel up to it, let me know how you’re doing, okay? Love you.
* * *
I don’t hear back from Carys until halfway through the next day.
Carys:Hey hot stuff. I feel like I’ve been run over by a tractor trailer. Everything hurts. I just got out of the shower, and I’m going back to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow.
The call never comes on Friday because I’m forty thousand feet in the air by mid-day on my way to South Africa for an op that lasts fifteen fucked up days.
It’s not until day three that I can finally call Carys. The phone rings for so long, I’m sure her voice mail is about to pick up until it clicks over, and her angelic voice echoes through the phone.
“Cooper? Are you there?”
God, it’s so fucking good to hear her voice. Relief literally makes my knees weak.
“Yeah, baby. I’m here. How are you feeling?”
“Better.” She breathes out a sigh of, I’m guessing, relief. “Where are you?”
“Out of the country.” My answer is short. I don’t want to talk about me. “Did you go to the doctor? What did he say?” I adjust the phone and walk away from my team. “I don’t know how long we’ve got to talk, and I want to hear about you, Carys.”
“They ran a ton of tests. I’m a little amazed I have any blood left in my body, they took so much of it. Jessie said that’s normal for something like this. They don’t have any good starting point. So, they start everywhere.” I can just imagine her worrying her bottom lip while she’s talking so fast. “They made me pee in a cup. That was fun. Oh, and I have to keep a journal. I need to document what I’m doing and what I’m eating, in case it’s something environmental bothering me.”
“Like an allergy?” How the fuck could an allergy give her a fever?
