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I smile, understanding. He doesn’t want to be sick. No kid does. Because being sick would mean staying in bed and not being able to make donuts.
“We can make the donuts another time,” I say. “Right now, I think you’re coming down with the flu. Here, let me give you something for the fever. Does your dad have a first-aid kit around? Or a medicine cabinet?"
Mikey looks away refusing to answer, lips pursed stubbornly.
“Oh, come on Mikey. Tell me where it is, or I’m going to have to walk all the way back to my house to get an ibuprofen."
Mikey makes an expression of disgust and then I realize. Of course, a boy with a sweet tooth like he does, probably hates medicine more than anything.
“Yeah, I know it’s gross.” I brush his hair gently. “But how about we make a deal? You take the medicine without a fuss and I’ll make you your favorite dessert today. And you can have two.” I hold up two fingers. “How does that sound?”
His face shows that he’s mulling it over. Then he slowly nods. I smile.
“Ok. Now where’s the medicine?"
He surprises me by taking my hand and leading me out of the room. I follow him, folding my hand around the small soft hand in mine. How adorable. After we retrieve the cold medicine, I watch him take it with a grimace. Then he held my hand again as we return to his room, too.
“Ok now you have to get in bed,” I say. “You’re about to feel sleepy in a little bit. “
“Stay here.”
At first, I think I'm hearing things. I blink at him, unable to believe it even though I can still see his lips form around the words. It’s the first time I’ve heard him talk. I never actually asked Luke about the specifics of Mikey's condition but assumed his mutism was selective. Still, hearing that shy voice, rusty from lack of use, makes me want to weep for joy.
I can’t deny him anything.
"Ok darlin’," I tell him. "I'll stay."
I get in bed, and he climbs in next to me, cuddling close. I cradle him against my body, rubbing his hair as he slowly dozes off. It feels so natural, and a protective instinct rises inside me as his eyes drop closed.
What a precious boy. I wonder what happened to his mother.
I think about asking Luke, as my eyelids get heavy too. Then when I'm about to doze off, I hear footsteps heading towards us.
And then, “Mom?”
I open my eyes to see Chase standing in the doorway, with a concerned expression on his face.
He starts to walk in the room. “What’s wrong? Is Mikey - ”
I hold up a hand to pause anything he’s about to say, so he doesn't wake Mikey.
Then I extract myself from a sleeping Mikey and creep out with Chase, closing the door behind us.
"Is Mikey ok?" he continues.
“Yep, he’s fine, just a little under the weather. I don’t want you getting sick, too.”
“You’re kinda acting like his mom lately. Where’s Luke?”
“Luke’s at a meeting. Mikey seems to feel comfortable with me and I think me being with him helps him come out of his shell.”
I brush his hair and pull him into a hug kissing his cheek. For the first time in a long time, my son doesn’t pull back or say "Ew, Mom that’s too much." Instead, his hands hesitantly go around my waist.
“I’ll always be your mom, Chase," I tell him, emotion choking my throat. "I’ll always love you more than anything else in the world. My relationship with Luke or Mikey isn’t going to change that. Ok?”
He’s quiet for a bit and I have a feeling he wants me to say more. But he just says “I understand.”
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