Page 48 of Before You Can Blink
A relieved rush of air burst past my lips. “Okay. Let me put Aspen down for a minute, and I’ll help get you into bed, then make some tea to settle your stomach.”
“No!” Blue eyes snapped open, her wild gaze fixed on me.
I cocked my head. “No to which part?”
Licking her lips, Daisy replied, “Take Aspen to your mom’s. I don’t want her to catch this.”
“But tomorrow’s Christmas . . .”
We might not have a tree, but there were three wrapped gifts tucked away for our girl to open in the morning. Luckily, Aspen was more than happy to play with pots and pans, having no clue that times were lean, but I knew Daisy had put a lot of thought into the few toys she’d been able to purchase with our tight budget this holiday season.
A single tear tracked down her cheek. “I know.” She tried and failed to hide a sob that bubbled up from her chest. “The only silver lining is that she has no clue what day it is and wouldn’t remember it even if she did.”
Logically, it made sense, but it didn’t feel right. “I can’t leave you here like this.”
“Been down here a while. I’m sure I can survive the half hour it takes you to get to town and back.”
This fucking sucked, but she wasn’t giving me much of a choice.
“Okay,” I grudgingly agreed. With my lips pressed to Aspen’s ear, I whispered, “Say Merry Christmas to Mama.”
Our baby girl waved enthusiastically at the woman who was selfless to a fault.
“Bye, baby. Be good for Meemaw. I love you.” Daisy just barely managed to get that out before her body lurched and she scrambled upright to empty her stomach into the toilet.
When were we gonna catch a break?
When I returned, Daisy was exactly where I’d left her, hunched over the toilet bowl, moaning so loud it echoed off the walls.
She whined weakly as I scooped her off the ground, before setting her down on the bed. Her cotton nightdress was soaked through with sweat, and a press of my lips to her forehead confirmed she was burning up.
I peeled the damp fabric away from her skin, maneuvering her body so that I was able to lift it over her head. She sucked in a sharp hissing breath when the back of my hand grazed the side of her breast.
“What’s wrong?” I searched for visible signs of physical injury.
“Full,” Daisy gritted out. “Was just about to feed Aspen when I got sick.”
My gaze dipped to her exposed chest, where the first droplets of breastmilk leaked from her nipples.
Sliding off the bed, I became a man on a mission. “Where’s your hand pump?”
Fever-glazed eyes landed on me. “What?” The word came out slightly dazed, like she couldn’t understand what I was asking.
In my mind, it was simple. “My hands may be tied while your body fights this bug, but I won’t sit idly by when it’s in my power to ease at least some of your suffering.” My wife blinked at me for a full minute, so I prompted again, “Where’s your pump?”
A slow hand came up to cover her eyes. “Oh my God.”
“You can pray after you answer my question.”
“Not funny, Jett.”
I snorted. “You see me laughing?”
“Fine,” she huffed. “It’s in the satchel I take with me to school.”
Marching to the table set near the front door, I dug inside her bag and pulled out the item, which featured a silicone bell affixed to a hand crank screwed onto the top of a bottle.
I returned to the bed, making sure to draw the blankets up to Daisy’s waist to provide some warmth while her torso remained naked. Once I was done, I’d help her into a clean nightdress.
