Page 31

Chapter thirty

You’re so strong, just like Mama

Charlotte - 12 years ago

T he muffled sounds of laughter and singing drift through the infirmary window. It’s late, and while everyone else is probably roasting marshmallows or sneaking in one last game of capture the flag, I’m sitting here beside Tommy’s cot, trying to keep him calm as he dozes off to sleep.

“Shh, it’s okay,” I whisper, offering him a comforting smile as I tuck the blanket around him. “You’re safe. Try to get some rest.”

Tommy, the smallest in our group, finally closes his eyes and starts to drift off. Sick all day, his fever has only worsened his homesickness. My heart aches for him. I know how it feels to be away from home, even if this camp is just a summer adventure.

The door creaks open, and I glance up to see Jake standing there, looking rumpled and a little out of breath. His hair’s a mess, and he’s still in his camp leader uniform.

“Hey,” he says softly, walking over to where I’m sitting. “How’s the little guy doing?”

“Better,” I reply, keeping my voice low. “Finally asleep, but he’s still really homesick.”

Jake nods, concern crossing his face as he watches Tommy. “Yeah, it’s tough being away from home, especially when you’re not feeling well.”

I smile a little, appreciating that he gets it. “He just needs someone to be here with him. I don’t want him to feel like he’s alone.”

Jake glances at the clock on the wall and then back at me. “You’ve been here for hours. Why don’t y ou take a break? I can keep an eye on him.”

I shake my head, though I’m exhausted. “I’m fine. Besides, I don’t mind being here. It’s kind of nice, actually.”

He chuckles, settling into the chair beside me. “You’re too good, you know that? Most people would be out there having fun, but you’re in here playing nurse.”

I shrug. “It’s not that big of a deal. I just... I know what it’s like to be sick and scared.”

“What do you mean?”

I take a deep breath, toying with the hem of my hoodie. “When I was eight, my older brother got really sick. It started with a fever, just like this. My parents thought it was the flu, but it kept climbing. They didn’t realize how serious it was until it was almost too late.”

Jake’s brows knit together. “What was it?”

“Pneumonia. It hit him hard and fast. He pulled through, but it was close. Ever since then, fevers... they just put me on edge. Even when I know it’s probably nothing, I can’t help but worry.”

Jake nods, his gaze dropping to a sleeping Tommy. “That kinda thing sticks with you.”

“It does,” I murmur. The memory is still sharp, like it’s etched into my bones.

After a moment, Jake leans back in his chair. “You’re pretty amazing with these kids, you know? They love you.”

There’s a pause, and I can feel my heart beating faster at the way he’s looking at me. It’s a look that makes me feel special. Like maybe there’s more to me than just being the girl who’s good at taking care of everyone.

“Well, thanks,” I say, keeping my voice light. “But don’t go getting all sappy on me, okay?”

He laughs, the sound soft and warm. “No promises.”

***

Charlie - Present Day

The morning starts like any other. Rushed, chaotic, bu t manageable. I’m in the middle of reviewing a campaign proposal for an onboarding meeting when my phone buzzes.

“Hey, Nina, what’s up?” I ask, balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder while typing a quick email.

“Charlotte, I think you should come home,” Nina says, her voice tinged with concern. “Meadow’s not feeling well. She’s running a fever, and she’s really lethargic.”

My fingers freeze over the keyboard. Meadow was fine this morning, just a little tired.

“Okay,” I reply, my voice steady despite the sudden surge of worry. “I’ll be there soon. Can you keep her comfortable until I get home?”

“Of course. Do you want me to call a doctor?”

“No thanks, I’ll handle that. Just… keep her comfortable.”

I hang up, and take a breath. I’m used to handling things on my own, being the one everyone relies on. But the thought of Meadow being really sick sends a spike of fear through me. I grab my bag and rush out of the office, my mind racing.

As I drive home, the logical part of my brain tries to take over. It’s probably just a bug. Kids get sick all the time. But the what-ifs start creeping in. What if it’s something serious? What if I can’t manage this on my own?

By the time I pull into the driveway, my nerves are frayed. I rush inside, finding Nina in the living room with Meadow curled up on the couch, her little face pale and flushed.

“Mama,” Meadow whispers, reaching out for me.

I kneel beside her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She’s burning up. “Hey, baby. Mama’s here. How are you feeling?”

“Not good,” she whimpers, and my heart breaks a little more.

I turn to Nina, her brow furrowed and lips pressed into a tight line. “Thank you for calling me. Will y ou be okay to pick up Noah from school later? That way I can stay with Meadow.”

“Of course, no problem,” she replies. “Do you need anything before I go?”

“No thank you, I’ve got it,” I say, more to myself than to her.

Nina gives Meadow a gentle pat on the head before heading out, leaving me alone with my daughter and my rising panic. I check Meadow’s temperature—it’s high, way too high. I give her some Tylenol, but it doesn’t seem to help.

I pace the room, my mind cycling through options. I could take her to the doctor, but the thought of sitting in a waiting room with a feverish child makes my skin crawl. I consider calling Jake, but I hesitate. He’s in a different city, likely in the middle of training. What would I even say? That I’m scared? That I feel like I’m failing?

I pull out my phone, my thumb hovering over Zoe’s number. But she’s out of town for work, and I don’t want to worry her. The weight of the situation presses down on me, the familiar burden of being the one in charge, holding everything together.

My phone buzzes, breaking through my thoughts, and I realize how tightly I’ve been gripping it.

Jake: Hey Lady Lightning, just checking in. How’s your day going?

I stare at the screen, my eyes flicking to Meadow. Jake’s been gone for over a week, and I miss him more than I’d thought possible. But I don’t want to burden him with this. He has enough on his plate.

Me: It’s been okay x

He replies quickly, and I can feel his concern radiating through the screen.

Jake: Everything alright?

I take a deep breath, my resolve c rumbling.

Me: Meadow’s sick. High fever. Just trying to get it down, but it’s not working

Before I can set my phone down, it starts buzzing in my hand, and Jake’s name pops up. I swipe to answer, pressing the phone to my ear. “Hey.”

“Charlie, what’s going on?” His voice is calm but tinged with concern.

“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice wobbling. “She’s burning up. The Tylenol isn’t working, yet. I think I should probably take her to the ER, but I’m trying not to panic.”

“You’re doing the right thing,” he says, reassuring me. “If it doesn’t break soon, take her in.” He pauses, and then murmurs, “I wish I was there.”

“I do, too,” I whisper, my throat tightening. “But don’t worry—I’ve got this.”

“You’re such a good mom, Charlie girl. You know that, right?”

I swallow hard, trying to hold it together. That was not what I expected him to say, but suddenly, it’s everything I needed to hear.

“I’ll check in with you later, okay? Call me if you need anything. I mean it.”

“I will,” I say, forcing myself to stay calm. “Thanks, Jake.”

We hang up, and I take a deep breath, steadying myself. But as the morning drags on and Meadow’s fever doesn’t break, the panic I’ve been holding back starts to creep in. When Nina returns with Noah, I make a decision.

“I’m going to take Meadow to the ER. Can you please stay with Noah until I’m back?” I ask Nina, trying to keep my voice even.

“Of course,” she says without hesitation. “I’ll take care of him.”

I nod, trying to muster a smile, but it feels like my world is teetering on the edge of something I can ’t control. I bundle Meadow into the car, her small body limp against mine, and as I pull out of the driveway, I send Jake a quick message.

Me: Taking her to the ER. I’ll keep you posted x

I don’t wait for a reply. My focus is on Meadow, on getting her the help she needs. But as I drive, the fear I’ve been holding back starts to break through, and I feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes.

The ER waiting room is packed, a swirling mess of noise and anxiety. I cradle Meadow in my arms, her feverish body feeling too heavy, like she’s melting into me. Each minute drags, the pounding worry in my chest growing sharper with every passing second. We sit and sit, watching critical cases go before us, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from crying. I’ve handled plenty alone, but this—her tiny body so hot against mine—pushes every nerve to its edge.

For a fleeting moment, I’m eight years old again, watching helplessly as my brother lay in a hospital bed, his fever raging out of control. The memory sharpens, as vivid as if it happened yesterday. My parents’ hushed tones, the beeping machines, the cold, sterile smell that clung to everything. The fear back then had been a suffocating thing, something I didn’t understand fully until now.

I murmur soft reassurances, but the fear eats away at my composure. I shoot Alex a quick update, hating that I have to involve him. I feel so raw, so exposed in this cold, impersonal place, alone in a new city with strangers passing by.

Finally, they take us back to a room. My phone buzzes with Jake’s name lighting the screen, but I silence it, my focus on Meadow as I settle her onto the bed.

When the doctor finally arrives, relief mingles with a persistent worry. I’m afraid I’m overreacting, but more afraid I’m not. He examines her, administers medication, then tells me to take her home—she’ll recover better in her own bed.

I clutch the bottle of water the nurse hands me, noting that I need to coax Meadow to drink. It sounds so simple, but I feel like I’m holding us together by sheer willpower alone.

By the time I bundle her back into the car, exhaustion hits me like a wave. Meadow is quiet, ba rely stirring, and it takes everything I have not to break on the drive home. Not yet, Charlie. As I pull into the driveway, my mind spins through tasks: get Meadow to bed, monitor her, stock up on meds, call in tomorrow if needed. One thing at a time.

I’m so focused on holding it all together that when the front door opens, I almost don’t register who’s standing there.

Jake.

Disheveled but real, his eyes search mine with an intensity that breaks through my exhaustion.

“What…” I barely manage to find the words.

“I caught an earlier flight.” He steps forward, reaching out for Meadow. “I couldn’t just sit back and let you handle this alone.”

The relief that hits me is overwhelming, breaking through every wall I’ve spent years building. Tears I’ve been holding back threaten to fall, and I can barely breathe, let alone speak. “You… didn’t have to.”

“Yes, I did,” he says simply, wrapping an arm around me. “I didn’t want you to be alone in this, Charlie.”

The words sink in, both a balm and a reminder of how much I’ve been carrying by myself. I lean into him, feeling his warmth, his strength—things I never thought I’d need this much. He holds me, and for the first time in hours, I can breathe. Finally, I can breathe.

Jake presses a firm kiss to my forehead, then guides me inside. “Let’s see how she’s doing.”

I nod, willing back the tears as I move into the house. He lays Meadow on the sofa, his big hands gentle as he checks her temperature. “She’s still hot,” he says calmly. “Let’s try to cool her down.”

A mix of awe and relief washes over me as Jake scoops Meadow up, holding her close as he heads to the bathroom. He doesn’t hesitate, simply rolls up his sleeves and turns on the shower to a lukewarm spray. Then, without a second thought, he steps under the water fully clothed, cradling Meadow to his chest.

Something in me stills as I watch him, every doubt dissolving as his low, steady voice fills the bathroom . His words are soothing, a constant voice that draws me in. “It’s okay, Princess. I’ve got you,” he whispers close to her ear. “We’re going to make you all better, okay? You’re so brave. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Meadow’s small body shivers against him, but I see her gradually relax as the water cools her down. Jake continues speaking, his tone gentle. “You’re doing great, Meadow. Just a little longer and you’ll start feeling better. I’m so proud of you.”

I hover in the doorway, the cool tile pressing against my bare feet. I’ve never seen anyone do something so simple and naturally loving for my children. Jake holds her like she’s always been his, loving her like she’s his. Like he’s been doing this his whole life. And it pulls every fragile part of me into focus. He’s here. He came for us.

“I know it’s scary, sweet girl, but you’re safe.” His voice feels like an anchor in this storm of emotions. “You’re so strong, just like Mama. We’re going to make sure you’re okay.”

His gaze flicks to me. “I remember what you told me, Charlie,” he says quietly. “I get why this is hitting you so hard.”

The words stop me in my tracks, the memory rising unbidden. How I told Jake all those years ago about how helpless I’d felt watching my brother’s fever climb and not knowing if he’d be okay. It’s something I rarely shared, yet Jake remembers.

“You’re not alone in this, I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Tears blur my vision, his quiet reassurance unravelling the knot of fear in my chest. Of course he remembers. Even back then, Jake didn’t just hear things—he kept them. He kept me.

My phone suddenly buzzes from the hall, and Jake glances over with a nod. “Check your phone, it’ll be Dr. Hayes.”

I blink, exhaustion making everything feel slow as I grab my phone, confirming Dr. Hayes, Jake's private doctor, is en route. It dawns on me that he organized for him to come, making sure we’d have the best care. Every small thing he’s done in the past few hours stitches a part of me back together. I have someone here, someone who steps in when things go sideways. I’m not alone .

Jake steps out of the shower, his clothes soaked but his face calm. Meadow is still cradled in his arms, her small body now relaxed, fever finally easing.

“She’ll be okay, Charlie,” he murmurs.

The tears I’ve held back start falling as I take Meadow from him, wrapping her in a towel and holding her close. My heart finally slows. Relief floods in, quieting every last fear.

“Thank you,” I whisper, voice breaking. “For being here.”

Jake reaches out, his hand warm as he cups my cheek, brushing away a tear with his thumb. “There's nowhere else I'd rather be, Charlie girl.”

I look up at him, and everything I need to know is right there in his eyes. He’s my rock, my steady place to fall. For so long, I’ve convinced myself I could handle it all on my own. But this moment—this quiet, steady presence of his—undoes that. He’s here.

I think I love you.