Heartless (Chestnut Springs, #2)(46)

And God bless his determination because we stop twice more on the way back to the ranch.

The first thing we do is strip down outside. At least all pieces of barfy clothes. Which for him is everything, and for me is just my tank top over my bikini.

The shower proves a challenge because he can’t stop retching.

I’ve never felt more helpless. I’ve never felt teary watching someone get sick—usually I’m just annoyed—but watching his little body heave so violently has the back of my throat aching and my eyes watering.

He’s finally clean, seems relatively empty, and just looks totally exhausted standing in the middle of his room.

“When will my dad be home?”

I check my watch. “In about an hour. I’m going to call him and get our clothes in the wash. Take a quick shower. How about you lie down?”

He nods, standing in front of me, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. “I want to sleep in my dad’s bed.”

“Yeah, of course.” I know he often sleeps there on the weekends, but weekdays are tough because Cade wakes up so early. We’ll figure it out later. “Let’s go.” I hold my hand out to Luke, but he just nods again, clearly out of it.

I touch his forehead and it feels hot. But maybe that’s from the shower? Fuck, I don’t know. I’d ask Harvey for help, but he isn’t back yet. Rhett is on the road. Summer is at work.

I opt to scoop Luke up, propping his chin on my shoulder. His little arms wrap around my neck and my arms fold under his legs so that I’m carrying him like a koala.

He sighs when I press a kiss to his hair without even thinking. I don’t know what’s appropriate anymore. I know he’s not my kid, but he feels like mine in some little way. He feels like mine enough to comfort him when he’s sick.

I carry him down the hall, trying not to stress at how heavy he feels in my arms. He’s just tired. He has a tummy bug. Kids get sick. He’s not on his deathbed—or at least that’s what I keep telling myself.

I nudge Cade’s door open with my foot and take in his room. The door is always closed, and I feel like I’m invading his privacy, but I’m also insanely curious. Like the rest of the house, his room is warm and airy, a total contrast to the main house where his dad lives. The walls are a creamy yellow, framed by big crown moldings painted a high-gloss white. The oak bed frame is stained a yellowish tone, and in most cases I would say it’s dated—but something about it works in here. Topped with a cream and navy plaid duvet set, the space is still masculine without being dark.

It’s honestly not what I was expecting.

Once I gently slide Luke onto the king-sized bed, I peel back the duvet and tuck him in. He’s already half-asleep, but he groans when I fold the blanket in tight around him.

Peeking over my shoulder, I see the door to a small en suite bathroom. With a few steps over, I push it open, deciding this setup is ideal.

The bathroom is tight quarters, just a toilet and a sink and vanity. It’s clean, and it smells like Cade’s signature pine smell mixed with something spicy and sweet.

I momentarily wonder if it would be weird to just hang out in here for a few minutes.

A small whimper from the bed draws me from my thoughts. I flip the toilet seat up—marveling at a man existing who puts it down in the first place—and head back out.

Bending over a slightly delirious Luke, I whisper, “If you feel sick, you just go straight into your dad’s bathroom, okay?”

He offers me a small nod without opening his eyes, and I run a hand over his forehead. Still hot.

“I’ll be here if you need anything.” Then I press another kiss to his feverish temple and pad softly out of the room, already reaching for my phone and dialing as soon as I’m in the hallway.

“Red.” Cade’s voice has a bite to it today. I’m sure some people would flinch, but I just roll my eyes. “Now isn’t a great time.”

“Okay, it’s just that—”

“If this is about your panties, save it for your morning text.”

Dick.

“Luke is sick, so get your head out of your ass and talk to me for once.”

“Is he okay?” His tone changes instantly.

“He threw up on our way back from a day at the spray pad in town. And then he threw up a lot more. He’s clean. He wanted to go in your bed, so he’s sleeping there. It’s close to a toilet, so that’s a bonus. But I know you wake up early for work, so I’m sorry about that too. I’m worried he’s too hot. Do you have a thermometer? What do I do? Do I make him drink something? I’m really worried I’m fucking this up. Also, I kissed him on the forehead and I’m feeling like I need to tell you that because I don’t know if that’s okay. I know he’s not my kid, but he just seemed like he needed comforting and—”

“Willa,” his voice is soft now.

“Yeah?”

“Take a deep breath.”

“I don’t want to. There’s barf on me and it smells terrible.” My voice cracks and I don’t know why. It’s like getting everything out of my brain and sharing it with Cade has me all up in my feels.

“Everything is okay.” Who knew such a simple sentence could put me at ease so instantly. “He always spikes a solid fever when he gets sick. You’re doing great. We’re lucky to have you here helping us. Luke loves you. You’ll never catch flack from me for comforting him.”