Page 54 of Silver Fox's Secret Triplets
"Dad?" I answered breathlessly, pushing through the revolving doors into the cool night air.
"Ivy, you need to come home. I'm sorry, but Sammy's running a high fever and coughing. Lauren's here with the children, but?—"
"I'm coming." I cut him off, my heart hammering against my ribs. "I'm calling an Uber right now."
Behind me, I heard Duncan's voice calling my name, but I couldn't turn around or take time to explain. Couldn't do anything except focus on getting to my son. What would I tell him, anyway?
The Uber arrived within minutes, and I gave the driver my address while my hands shook. The city lights blurred past the windows as we sped through the streets, and I found wishing I'd never gone to that fundraiser to begin with. My kids were myworld, and knowing Sammy was sick and I wasn't there felt like I'd deserted him.
Holding Chrissy, Lauren was waiting on the porch when we pulled up, her face etched with worry. She still wore her casual clothes from babysitting, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.
"Where is he?" I demanded, stumbling out of the car.
"Inside with your dad," she said, reaching out to steady me. "Ivy, his fever spiked about an hour ago, and he's been coughing nonstop."
I kicked off my heels and ran barefoot up the front steps. The house felt too quiet, too tense. Dad appeared in the foyer holding Sammy, whose small body looked even tinier in his arms. My son's cheeks were flushed with fever, his eyes glassy and unfocused.
"Oh, baby," I whispered, taking him from Dad's arms. Sammy's forehead burned against my palm, and when I pressed my ear to his chest, his breathing sounded labored and congested.
"Where's Elena?" I asked, cradling Sammy closer.
"Living room with your mother," Dad replied, his voice tight with stress.
I carried Sammy into the living room and found Mom sitting on the couch wearing a surgical mask, her eyes wide with concern above the blue fabric. Elena was playing quietly on the carpet, but she kept glancing at their brother with a worried expression.
"How long has he been this sick?" I asked, settling into the armchair with Sammy in my lap.
"The fever started around seven," Mom said, her voice muffled by the mask. "Dad called Lauren when he couldn't get it to break with Children's Tylenol. I told him it was nonsense but?—"
Dad cleared his throat. "Ivy, we need to discuss the situation. If Sammy has something contagious, the children can't stay in this house."
My stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"
"Your mother's immune system is compromised from the chemotherapy. Any infection could be dangerous for her." His expression was grim but resolute. "You'll need to take them elsewhere until we know what we're dealing with."
The reality hit me hard. Of course they couldn't stay here. Mom's health had to come first, especially with her new aggressive treatment protocol. But the thought of managing three sick children alone in some hotel room made my chest tighten with panic.
"I understand," I said quietly, though my voice quavered.
Lauren immediately stepped forward. "I'll help you pack their things. We can get them settled somewhere comfortable."
I nodded, grateful for her steady presence. "There's a hotel about ten minutes away. I'll call and see if they have availability."
The next hour passed in a blur of activity. Lauren helped me gather the triplets' clothes, medications, and favorite toys while I made phone calls and tried to keep Sammy comfortable. His fever hadn't broken, and his cough was getting worse.
Dad carried the car seats out to my car while I wrestled with Elena and Chrissy, who didn't understand why they were leaving Grandma and Grandpa's house so suddenly. Sammy had grown listless in my arms, which worried me more than his crying would have.
"Drive carefully," Mom said from the front door, maintaining her distance. "Call us the moment you know anything."
The hotel was a mid-range chain that catered to business travelers, nothing fancy but clean and reliable. I managed to book a suite with a small kitchenette and a pull-out couch, figuring we might be there for several days.
The room immediately felt cramped. Elena and Chrissy were overtired and cranky, fighting over toys and demanding attention I couldn't give while Sammy burned with fever in my arms. I'd traded my evening gown for jeans and a sweater, but I still felt completely out of my element.
"I need to call a doctor," I told Lauren while she tried to distract the girls with coloring books.
The front desk connected me with an on-call pediatrician who agreed to come to the hotel room. Dr. Myers arrived within an hour, a kind woman in her fifties who examined Sammy thoroughly while he whimpered against my shoulder.
"It looks like a respiratory infection," she said, packing her stethoscope back into her bag. "Possibly RSV, but we'd need tests to confirm. For now, keep him hydrated and comfortable. His fever should break within the next day or two."
