Page 20

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Cameron

“What’s the matter, baby boy?” I ask Deaton, slowly lowering onto the couch beside him, little Abby in my arms.

He rubs his eyes, tears smearing across his cheeks as his lip starts to wobble.

“Aw, Big Guy.” I reach for him with one hand, and instantly, Abby starts wailing again. “Shit. I mean crap.” I shift her, picking up Deaton in my left arm, and stand, trying to bounce them both. “Baby boy, what happened? You okay?”

He buries his face in my chest, and Abby lifts her head, pushing at his shoulder to try and get me all to herself.

“Abby, honey, be nice to Deaton. He’s your friend.”

She starts kicking, her cries getting louder.

Thankfully, Junie walks in two seconds later. When her eyes meet mine, wide and begging for help, she chuckles and walks over.

“Is that my friend Abigail I see?” Junie softens her tone, and slowly, Abby looks over at her. Junie smiles, putting her hands on her hips. “It is you! I’m so happy you came back to play today.”

Abby’s cries start to soften, though now she’s hiccupping from crying so long.

Poor baby nearly breaks down every time her daddy drops her off for day care, which seems to happen more than her mama dropping her off lately.

She’s been here for twenty minutes, and this is the first deep breath she’s taken.

Junie comes up with her arms outstretched, and after only a moment’s hesitation, Abby leans over into her arms. “And now what happened to this little man, huh?” She rubs her hand along Deaton’s back, and I hoist him higher, kissing his temple.

I freeze, rubbing my cheek along his forehead before quickly pulling back and pressing the back of my hand to his face. “Junie… please tell me he doesn’t have a fever.”

“Okay, don’t panic on me, Cameron. Babies do get sick, often this time each year and when they’re in day care.”

“But he’s never been sick before.”

“I’m sure he has. Like I said, children get sick.” Junie looks him over and hums. “His cheeks are a bit flushed. I’ll get the thermometer, poor guy.”

Deaton tucks his arms in, hiding his face in my chest, and I lower into the rocking chair with him, patting his back. “It’s okay, D. Marley, honey, no throwing toys,” I call out.

Junie is back as fast as she disappeared, and Abby finally lets her put her down, all tears forgotten as she runs over to play with the plastic kitchen set.

“Okay, let’s see.” Junie presses the button, rolling the little ball across Deaton’s forehead. The machine beeps, and she frowns at it. “Definitely a fever. I’ll grab him a Popsicle and we’ll need to call his parents. Unfortunately, he does have to go home.”

I nod. “And he can’t come back until he’s fever free for twenty-four hours, right?”

“Good job. Now should I call, or do you want to?”

I scoff. “I don’t want to. Payton is in the middle of a shoot with the cross-country team, which means she’s tagged Mason in while she has to have her phone off.” An idea sparks. “Oh! I’ll just call?—”

“You are not calling Arianna, Cameron.” She frowns. “Parents. Always parents, your family or not.”

She starts to walk off to get that Popsicle, so I shout, “Hey, remember you said that when he shows up with an ambulance!”

Now she scoffs, disappearing through the door .

I bite the bullet, dial Mason, and prepare my most peppy voice possible.

“What’s wrong?” he answers on the first ring.

“He’s fine?—”

“Cameron.”

“Okay, he has a little fever so?—”

“I’m on my way.” I hear some shuffling, then the sound of a door opening and closing. “Can I talk to him?”

Junie comes back in then, and I look up at her, unsure what the protocol is on this but wanting to let him anyway. Thankfully, Junie nods, peeling open the Popsicle and handing it over to Deaton.

“Sanks, Jujie.”

We both chuckle at his pronunciation, and I think I hear Mason’s exhale at the sound of his son’s voice.

“It’s on speaker,” I tell him.

“Hey, little man,” he breathes, and Deaton’s eyes light up as he puts his free hand over mine on the phone.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, buddy. Cammie said you’re not feeling good. What’s the matter?”

He licks his Popsicle, tucking back into my chest, and shrugs his shoulder, not fully understanding Mason can’t see him.

“He’s enjoying his Popsicle.” I let him know so he doesn’t panic.

“Can you, I mean are you allowed to just hold him until I get there?”

I smile. “Of course, Mase. I won’t let him go.”

“I’m leaving the library right now,” he tells me.

“You gonna get in trouble for ditching study hall?”

“Nah, Coach just watched me get up and go. I’ll put in more time next week or something. I’ll be there in five.”

We hang up and, Deaton pops his head up. “Daddy coming, Calmy?”

“Yeah, baby. Your daddy’s coming. ”

I rock him a little, and then I sneak him another Popsicle.

As promised, Mason is signing Deaton out not six minutes later, and I should be shocked when my best friend walks in right behind him—I’m not—her cheeks heaving like she ran here—she probably did.

“Aw,” she coos, sticking her lip out. She walks over, holding her hands out. “Come to Auntie Ari.”

Deaton holds on to Mason’s neck, the Popsicle rubbing sticky shit all over the back of his skin, but Mason doesn’t even flinch.

He smirks at his sister. “Nice try.”

Ari shrugs, then grabs the diaper bag and looks my way. “Okay, Mom gave me a list of stuff to ask.”

She rattles off her questions, and I answer, letting her know when we noticed, how he was acting, what kind of thermometer we used, and what it read.

The twins walk out, and I sink against the counter, exhaustion setting in even though I still have two hours left.

Granny Grace chuckles, shaking her head as she slides the artwork from last week into the pickup cubbies. “Busy day back there, hmm?”

“You have no idea.” I fold my arms, lowering my head to settle on them. “I need a nap.”

“Honey, I’ve been here since before you were born. I think I have a bit of an idea what a rough day feels like by now. And you know it’s only gonna get worse. The weather’s changing, which means snotty noses and no patio playtime.”

“I love kids, but so glad I get to go home without one at the end of the night.”

“I bet you are, what with the hubba-hubba hunk of man meat you take back to your bed with you.”

My head snaps up with a frown, and she swats at me, spinning to the cubbies on the opposite side. “Don’t give me that look. I saw you and your…friend, though you two don’t look strictly friendly anymore. ”

I try to remember if they have met, but I’m almost positive they haven’t, at least not officially, face-to-face. She’s likely just seen us all around campus or them waiting outside a time or ten.

“He’s a…big boy, ain’t he?” She waggles her eyes.

My mouth drops open and a laugh follows. “You dirty bird.”

“Well, is he?” she presses.

I push off the counter, smiling at her. “I’m not telling.” Because I don’t know.

Well, I mean I do. I’ve seen him in his boxers a good hundred times, not to mention he’s not one of those guys who wears underwear under swim trunks.

The chilly ocean water never played as the witch, casting any disappearing spells. No, his wand was forever present, not that I would sit and stare, but girls notice these things. But I haven’t actually seen the size of the stalk—only the outline of the bean before it’s watered.

“Look at you, picturing his pecker while standing in a child care center. You should be ashamed.”

I gape, and Granny Grace smiles. “Now shoo. Junie is all alone back there. No more of this needing a nap nonsense. You’ve got two hours left, girl. Suck it up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I smile, pushing through the double doors again and stepping through to the other side.

Thankfully the next couple hours go by quickly, and I’m out the door.

I check in on Deaton on the way home, Ari telling me she’s still with them and Payton’s home now too. Apparently, they’re all going to have dinner and stare at him for a while.

Back in my dorm room, I’m only just plopping onto my ass, Cup Noodles in one hand, remote in the other, when my phone dings on the coffee table.

Brady’s name is on the screen. I open the message.

Brady: help .

I scoff, typing away.

Me: I’m gonna need a little more context, my dude.

Brady: Mean. Thought you’d do anything for me?

Me: I have uneaten food in my hand.

Brady: Shit. Okay, but what if I promise to buy you real food cause we both know you’re eatin something from the microwave.

Brady: Don’t make me mention it is, in fact, your girlfriend duty to be there when I need you.

I smile, shaking my head.

Me: You had me at real food. What’s up?

The three dots pop up, and I wait for his next message, but his location comes through instead.

I frown. “What the hell do you need help with at 7-Eleven?”

I look at the time. It’s only four.

Me: Do you need a gas can or something? Cause I have to tell you, my no car having ass is fresh out.

I wait a minute, but he doesn’t respond, so I stare longingly at my spicy shrimp noodles and then groan. “Okay, fine!”

I look at myself in the mirror and cock my head.

I’ve already changed from my jeans and the top I was wearing, now in a sports bra and an oversized T-shirt so big you can’t even see the spandex shorts I have on underneath.

I’m wearing thick, scrunchy Avix U socks up to my damn knees and a pair of Minnie Mouse Crocs Payton brought back for me from Disneyland last year.

“Ah, fuck it.” I throw on some sunglasses and walk out the door. “Call me Rescue Ranger.”

Brady

Sweet mother of baby Jesus, what in the actual all hell did I get myself into?

I swiftly flick the lock on the bathroom door, dropping my head against it.

I called her ten minutes ago, and her dorm is the closest to the main road. She should have been here by now.

I can only hide out in the damn bathroom for so long, and this isn’t my first trip in here. It’s my third. Ari claims that I have a baby bladder, and I do, in fact, have to take a piss again, though that’s not why I’m in here.