Page 149 of The Persistence of Thornes
“Caleb.” The warning tone is one she usually reserves for her brothers. I’m not sure what she thinks she’s going to do to me, since she can barely stand without help, but I like it when she tries to act bossy.
“Let me get you into bed, and then I’ll change.”
“No,” she counters. “The water will soak into my t-shirt. Change first.”
Admitting defeat, I take a step away and unbutton my shirt. I drape it over the towel rod, along with my pants. Then I toss my socks into the hamper.
“Take it off,” she attempts to catcall when I’m in nothing but my underwear. The tease falls flat, her voice too weak.
With a smirk, I saunter into the closet. I shuck my underwear and pull a pair of sleep pants from the drawer.
“No funny business tonight, sweetheart,” I say as I emerge, covered from the waist down.
Once I’ve got her situated in bed again, I hold the Gatorade out to her. “Sip. We need to keep you from getting dehydrated.”
“You’re so fucking bossy,” she grumbles.
“When it comes to your well-being, hell yeah I am.”
She takes a couple of slow, tentative sips, and when it doesn’t immediately come back up, I breathe a sigh of relief.
“I have a humidifier around here somewhere. I’m going to dig around for that and get it set up.”
“I don’t think I need a humidifier.” She stifles a yawn. “I’m not congested.”
“Google said it would help.”
“Fine.” She slumps back against the headboard, eyelids heavy. “Whatever you say.”
I locate the humidifier in the hall closet and set it outside my bedroom door to set up later. Then I go downstairs and search the pantry for the can of broth I know is hiding somewhere. Once I’ve found it, I text Salem, warning her to keep Seda away for now. If Halle is contagious, the last thing we need is for Seda to end up with the bug and take it home to her siblings.
With that taken care of, I call Thelma and ask if the boys can crash with them for a night or two. Unsurprisingly, she and Cynthia are all too happy to take them. Next, I let the boys know the plan and ask them to text me a list of things to pack for them.
Casen: Sweet. I can work on my whale some more.
Me: Whale?
Casen: I’m crocheting a whale.
Quinn: My triceratops is cooler.
I shake my head, fighting a smile. I’ll never understand the friendship that’s developed between the boys and the elderly ladies across the street, but I appreciate it, nonetheless.
Me: I’ll leave the bag by the door. Just pick it up when you get off the bus.
Casen:
Quinn: Wait. How do we know Halle’s sick and you’re not kidnapping our sister? You could be holding her hostage.
Me: Seriously? And didn’t she tell you she was sick this morning?
Casen: She did.
Quinn: Doesn’t mean you’re not holding her hostage.
Quinn: Tell her to FaceTime us tonight. We need proof of life.
Casen: Stop being an asshole.
