Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 107352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“Thanks.”
“You know what I mean.”
I did. “You’ll visit, yeah?”
“Of course I will. You will too.”
I would. I had to. He was my best friend.
“Also, I want a smokin’ deal on your place.”
“You can rent it.”
“I wanna buy it.”
I was quiet, not about to say a word.
“Oh, fuck off.”
“You’re gonna live with her.”
“I am.”
“You asked?”
“I did.”
“And she said yeah?”
“Of course she said yeah. This is me.”
He wasn’t fooling me one bit.
“She loves your place, and that helped, so…thanks.”
“I’ll make you a deal.”
“I know you will,” he sighed. “And, Nash?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m crazy happy for you. No one deserves a family more than you.”
“Thank you, brother.”
“And you know,” he said, instead of I love you.
“Same,” I assured him.
It was enough.
Despite being the one with the boys most of that Sunday—including all the puke cleaning—the bug did not get me. It got Luke instead. Around seven, he was the one on the floor of the bathroom, having turned an alarming shade of gray. He ran a fever, but not crazy high, and I ended up moving Dar over in the middle so Luke could get up and run to the bathroom when needed. He got the shakes, and when the fever finally broke around four in the morning, I was there to take the blankets off and change his clothes.
“This is not sexy,” he muttered.
“No,” I agreed, smiling at him, threading my fingers through his hair. “But I do like taking care of you and the boys.”
“You can’t sleep in that chair,” he told me. “Go out to the couch.”
“This chair is heaven compared to some of the places I’ve slept,” I commented.
“You’re not a soldier anymore, or a cop. You get a bed now.”
“Not tonight,” I pacified him. “Close your eyes.”
“I had plans,” he nearly whined.
I kissed his forehead. “I can’t wait to hear them.”
“I’m gross and sweaty and sticky, but I still want to sleep with you,” he confessed, his eyes drifting closed.
It was good to know.
Checking Tatum, who was passed out on the couch with Wink, I made sure both were snuggly under the blankets. I set the alarm, scanned all the camera feeds, and cranked the heat up. The rain hadn’t abated, the sound very soothing, and I was certain it helped everyone sleep better. I was hoping it was a twenty-four-hour bug, and with Luke’s fever breaking, the worst, I was sure, was over.
It was not over.
It took a couple more days, but by Thanksgiving morning, Griff and Dar were both strong enough to go up the stairs and take proper showers. Luke took a long shower as well, and I stripped the bed, put the buckets back in the garage, and decided that my chair and ottoman would live in Luke’s bedroom from then on.
“Our bedroom,” he corrected me as I brought him breakfast in bed. He did not enjoy his plain oatmeal, sliced bananas, or applesauce. For lunch he got broth and rice and pretzels.
“I will eat turkey and gravy and the yams with the marshmallows and squash and—”
“Oh, Daddy.” Tatum, who had carried in a blue Gatorade for him, snickered. “You can’t have any of that. Your tummy won’t like it.”
He stayed in bed and watched football while the rest of us praised Viola’s amazing cooking skills right around four.
“I’m not happy!” Luke made sure we all knew, yelling from our bedroom.
On Friday, Viola decided her son could have turkey and dumplings, and he kept it down. We were all happy for him, because honestly, he was a terrible patient.
“I didn’t hear that much whining from the kids,” I told his mother.
“He’s always been the worst,” she commiserated with me.
It was nice of her.
Saturday morning, Darwin and Tatum joined me as I drove Viola and John to the airport. At the curb, they both hugged me as well as the kids. I hadn’t anticipated that. I was sure Viola would, but John was a surprise. And yes, he’d invited me to their home for Christmas, but the fact that he felt compelled to take me into his arms was special.
“He really likes you,” Darwin said from the back seat, because Tatum had called shotgun. “I didn’t know if he would.”
“I knew,” Tatum chimed in. “Everybody likes Nash.”
“That’s true,” Darwin agreed quickly. “But now can we talk about Chinese, because I truly, from my soul, cannot eat anymore turkey.”
At the light, I turned to him. “Are you kidding?”
He whimpered. “Did you know that turkey’s not my favorite?”
“From your soul?” I asked him. “Dramatic much?”
“Come on, man,” he moaned. “I bet Dad would love a little egg drop soup.”
“And chicken fried rice,” Tatum added. “How can that be bad?”
It couldn’t, so we went and picked some up from their favorite place in the city. I enjoyed watching them order, making sure Griff, who was not there, got his regular. When we got home, Luke almost cried, he was so happy, and he was strong enough to sit at the dinner table. After lunch, we started watching The Mandalorian, because that was Tatum’s alternate pick, and no one wanted to watch anything about serial killers.