Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
“Okay, let’s see.” Junie presses the button, rolling the little ball across Deaton’s forehead. The machine beeps, and she frowns at it. “Definitely a fever. I’ll grab him a Popsicle and we’ll need to call his parents. Unfortunately, he does have to go home.”
I nod. “And he can’t come back until he’s fever free for twenty-four hours, right?”
“Good job. Now should I call, or do you want to?”
I scoff. “I don’t want to. Payton is in the middle of a shoot with the cross-country team, which means she’s tagged Mason in while she has to have her phone off.” An idea sparks. “Oh! I’ll just call—”
“You are not calling Arianna, Cameron.” She frowns. “Parents. Always parents, your family or not.”
She starts to walk off to get that Popsicle, so I shout, “Hey, remember you said that when he shows up with an ambulance!”
Now she scoffs, disappearing through the door.
I bite the bullet, dial Mason, and prepare my most peppy voice possible.
“What’s wrong?” he answers on the first ring.
“He’s fine—”
“Cameron.”
“Okay, he has a little fever so—”
“I’m on my way.” I hear some shuffling, then the sound of a door opening and closing. “Can I talk to him?”
Junie comes back in then, and I look up at her, unsure what the protocol is on this but wanting to let him anyway. Thankfully, Junie nods, peeling open the Popsicle and handing it over to Deaton.
“Sanks, Jujie.”
We both chuckle at his pronunciation, and I think I hear Mason’s exhale at the sound of his son’s voice.
“It’s on speaker,” I tell him.
“Hey, little man,” he breathes, and Deaton’s eyes light up as he puts his free hand over mine on the phone.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, buddy. Cammie said you’re not feeling good. What’s the matter?”
He licks his Popsicle, tucking back into my chest, and shrugs his shoulder, not fully understanding Mason can’t see him.
“He’s enjoying his Popsicle.” I let him know so he doesn’t panic.
“Can you, I mean are you allowed to just hold him until I get there?”
I smile. “Of course, Mase. I won’t let him go.”
“I’m leaving the library right now,” he tells me.
“You gonna get in trouble for ditching study hall?”
“Nah, Coach just watched me get up and go. I’ll put in more time next week or something. I’ll be there in five.”
We hang up and, Deaton pops his head up. “Daddy coming, Calmy?”
“Yeah, baby. Your daddy’s coming.”
I rock him a little, and then I sneak him another Popsicle.
As promised, Mason is signing Deaton out not six minutes later, and I should be shocked when my best friend walks in right behind him—I’m not—her cheeks heaving like she ran here—she probably did.
“Aw,” she coos, sticking her lip out. She walks over, holding her hands out. “Come to Auntie Ari.”
Deaton holds on to Mason’s neck, the Popsicle rubbing sticky shit all over the back of his skin, but Mason doesn’t even flinch.
He smirks at his sister. “Nice try.”
Ari shrugs, then grabs the diaper bag and looks my way. “Okay, Mom gave me a list of stuff to ask.”
She rattles off her questions, and I answer, letting her know when we noticed, how he was acting, what kind of thermometer we used, and what it read.
The twins walk out, and I sink against the counter, exhaustion setting in even though I still have two hours left.
Granny Grace chuckles, shaking her head as she slides the artwork from last week into the pickup cubbies. “Busy day back there, hmm?”
“You have no idea.” I fold my arms, lowering my head to settle on them. “I need a nap.”
“Honey, I’ve been here since before you were born. I think I have a bit of an idea what a rough day feels like by now. And you know it’s only gonna get worse. The weather’s changing, which means snotty noses and no patio playtime.”
“I love kids, but so glad I get to go home without one at the end of the night.”
“I bet you are, what with the hubba-hubba hunk of man meat you take back to your bed with you.”
My head snaps up with a frown, and she swats at me, spinning to the cubbies on the opposite side. “Don’t give me that look. I saw you and your…friend, though you two don’t look strictly friendly anymore.”
I try to remember if they have met, but I’m almost positive they haven’t, at least not officially, face-to-face. She’s likely just seen us all around campus or them waiting outside a time or ten.
“He’s a…big boy, ain’t he?” She waggles her eyes.
My mouth drops open and a laugh follows. “You dirty bird.”
“Well, is he?” she presses.
I push off the counter, smiling at her. “I’m not telling.” Because I don’t know.
Well, I mean I do. I’ve seen him in his boxers a good hundred times, not to mention he’s not one of those guys who wears underwear under swim trunks.