Page 70 of Sassy Love
“Oh, we don’t usually give out... You know what, let me ask Serelle.”
“Sure.”
She phones the boss quickly and returns the receiver with a smile. She writes down an address and hands me the sticky note. “Serelle said take soup.”
“Thanks, will do.”
I make it downstairs and check in on the women and children Carlie let in yesterday morning. The mother with the little girlshe was worried about is still here. Her daughter plays happily as she chats with one of our social workers. The update will cheer Lamont up, I’m sure.
Running through the rain, I make a quick stop at the convenience store for chicken soup and noodles. I grab two just in case Carlie’s daughter needs something to eat, too. I toss in a couple of chocolate frogs for good measure and grab an Uber to her address.
The building is much newer than my apartment building and I’m buzzed in by a doorman. Shaking off the rain, I take the elevator to the fourth floor. I cross the corridor to apartment 406 and knock. If she’s sick, her kid might not let me in, stranger danger and all. Adds would never let Hattie answer the door at my place.
No movement sounds from inside, and I’m about to knock again when the door opens. An old lady with curled grey hair and blue eyes looks up at me. Her tiny frame is swathed in light-blue pants and a matching button-down top. She smiles at me then tilts her head.
I lean back, double-checking the apartment number.
“I’m sorry, I must have been given the wrong address.” I run a hand through my hair.
She assesses me carefully with tight blue eyes. “Lawson?”
“Ah . . . Yes?”
Who is this?
Carlie’s grandma is in town? She never said anything. But then again, that’s no surprise.
“Why don’t you come in,” she says, nodding to the bag in my hand.
“Sure. Is Carlie okay?”
“Oh, that poor girl is as sick as a dog.”
I follow the old lady through the apartment. It’s amazing. Much newer than mine. The kitchen is bigger than my bedroom.The white tiled floor gives way to floor-to-ceiling windows and views of the city. The living room is white and cream, with a large flat-screen to one side by a hallway that leads to what I assume are the bedrooms.
“Let me go and see if she wants visitors.” The old lady toddles down the hallway leaving me in the kitchen. I go ahead and put the soup and treats in the refrigerator. I drop my jacket and bag on the dining table, sliding my hands into my pockets. Carlie’s place is incredible.
“She said you can go in. Second door on the right. I’ll fix her some of your soup, our girl hasn’t eaten since she got home yesterday.” The old woman putters to the kitchen cupboards as I wander down the hall and knock on the door softly.
“Carlie?”
“Come.” The word is so soft, and far too low.
I open the door. She lies on her side, facing away from me. The blanket is pulled up to her shaking shoulders.
Shit.
I walk around to the other side and sit on the edge of the bed. “You’ve got a fever.”
“Thanks for the update.” Her browns narrow at me. She coughs, and the whole bed shakes.
Dammit. I lean over, resting the back of my hand on her forehead. She’s on fire.
“You had Tylenol?”
“We ran out, and I don’t want Mills going out by herself in this weather.”
“Mills?”
