Page 26 of Pucking With My Head

Although we could take a cab back to her house, I knew for a fact that Joey didn’t carry a house key, and if her fathers were all out, then I would be dragging a sick child across town for no reason.

My place was closest, and while it wasn’t ideal, it was the best option. Unwilling to make her walk the fifteen minutes to my building or wait for the bus, I happily swallowed the cost of a cab.

Gently guiding Joey into my apartment, I asked, “Do you want to lie down? I don’t have a guest bedroom, so my nest is your only option. But it’s going to smell a lot like me.”

Joey looked up at me. “You have a nest? A real nest?”

I nodded. “I do. It’s not very fancy, but it’s comfortable.”

“I like the sound of that.”

There was a good chance that Joey was an omega. Her designation would become apparent when she went through puberty, but sometimes there were signs.

Without another word, I led her through the tiny apartment to the alcove I used as my nest. I basically draped a ton of blankets around my king-size bed and stuffed it full of pillows. It was shabby and handmade, but it served its purpose.

“This is so cool,” Joey muttered as she kicked off her shoes and climbed into the bed.

“Get comfortable, and I’m going to go find the thermometer to check your temperature, okay? Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

“Could I have some water?” she asked, clearly trying her best to be polite.

“I’ll get you a bottle. Do you like strawberry?” I asked.

Joey nodded, her little face furrowed in confusion.

“I have some flavored water that’s good for you—I’ll grab you one of those as well.”

Joey didn’t reply. Instead, she rested her head on the pillow and snuggled down into the blankets. Going to the small kitchenarea, I pulled out a bottle of water and searched in my cabinet for the electrolyte packets I kept for when I was sick. I didn’t know what exactly was wrong with Joey, but I assumed some vitamins and minerals wouldn’t hurt.

Plus, what kid didn’t like flavored water over boring regular water? With that in hand, I made a pit stop in the bathroom, rummaging through the cabinet, trying to find the old relic that counted as a thermometer. I couldn’t even remember when I’d used the thing last, if I had ever used it. It came with the first aid kit I had purchased when I first moved to California.

“Okay, Joey, can you sit up for me for a moment?” I asked kindly, sitting at the edge of the nest.

The poor kid looked exhausted and ready to pass out. With a grumble, she sat up and opened her mouth so I could place the thermometer under her tongue.

“I know this isn’t pleasant, but soon you can have the strawberry water and rest while I make some soup. I’m sure, by the time you’ve had a nap and some food, one of your dads will be here.”

Joey nodded. “Thank you, Beth,” she mumbled around the thermometer in her mouth.

“I’m more than happy to help. I just hate that you’re not feeling good. Being sick sucks, doesn’t it?”

The moment the thermometer beeped, I checked the small LED display. 101. She wasn’t in the danger zone, where I would need to take her to a hospital or get urgent medical attention, thankfully. Having worked with children a lot over the last few years, I knew that they frequently got fevers that usually weren’t severe. They just took a bit of TLC.

“Oh, you are a little warm,” I mused.

Normally, I would take Tylenol if I had a fever, but I had no idea if Joey could take that.

The only thing I could really give her without talking to her dads was chicken soup, and while that worked wonders, it didn’t replace modern medicine.

Handing Joey the bottle of water, I hovered over her as she took a few sips, helping her put it on the small nest side table before she snuggled down to sleep again. Once I was sure she was asleep, I padded into the kitchen. The sooner I got the soup simmering, the better.

Chapter 10

Cullen

Running a restaurant was something I loved dearly, but some days it was so nonstop, I was ready to pass out under my desk.

I wasn’t as young and spry as I used to be, as much as I hated to admit it. Now that I was in my thirties, I’d started experiencing the occasional bout of back pain.

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