Page 41 of Beautiful Crazy
Sutton nods. “Yeah, I think so. I made her some soup and brought her a new glass of ice water before I came out here.”
“That was nice of you. You can make soup all by yourself?”
His smile is contagious. “Yeah, Mom taught me to make a few things not too long ago. I can make my own cereal in the morning, but I also can make bagels and toast in the toaster, really anything in the microwave, and soup and chili on the stovetop.”
“Wow, that’s impressive,” I reply as I toss the ball back to him. He misses this time, but it’s probably from the sun in his eyes. I make a mental note to remind him to put on a baseball cap before we practice again. “I don’t think I knew how to make even half that at your age. I bet that’s a big help to your mom.”
Preening under the compliment, he sends the ball back my way. We go like this for another few minutes, not really saying much until he asks out of nowhere, “Do you like my mom?”
Coughing on the spit that gets lodged in my throat, I hit my chest a few times. “Uh, yeah, buddy. Of course, I like your mom.” Remembering her rule, I add for safe measure, “We’re friends.”
Sutton eyes me, a little skeptically, but I think that’s paranoia on my part. He’s ten; I highly doubt he means what I think he means.
“She is a pretty cool mom,” he finally says in response, but before I have a chance to agree, the timer on my phone goes off.
“Pizza’s done,” I announce, taking the glove off my hand. Then remembering how Sutton said he made his mom soup because she doesn’t feel well, I ask, “Have you eaten dinner yet?”
“Not yet.” He shakes his head.
“How about I cut this pizza and bring it out here? Wecan eat on the porch so your mom doesn’t have to worry about making anything.”
His face lights up, making my chest warm. “Yeah!”
“I don’t have a lot of options for drinks at my house. Do you have anything at yours? Or is water okay?”
Shoulder lifting in a lazy shrug, Sutton says, “Water’s fine. It’s typically what I drink with dinner anyways. Mom says it’s important to drink water and stay hydrated.”
Chuckling, I murmur, “Your mom is right. I’ll be right back, buddy.”
Eighteen
Gemma
Staring at the flashing number on the thermometer in my hand, I breathe out a groan, realizing my fever hasn’t gone down at all. I feel like absolute shit, and I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I felt fine yesterday, but when I woke up this morning, my body felt achy, and I’ve had a fever all damn day. And then a few hours ago, I got a super uncomfortable pain in my lower back and my abdomen.
I don’t get it, but nothing is helping. Not ice, not a heating pad, not ibuprofen. My appetite is nonexistent. Sutton was a sweetie and brought me a bowl of chicken noodle soup and a stack of saltine crackers, but that was an hour ago, and it’s now sitting cold on my nightstand where he left it for me before he went to play catch with Everett.
Tossing the thermometer on the bathroom counter, I pad back into my bedroom, glancing at the clock on thewall. I should go check on Sutton; I feel bad knowing that he may be keeping Everett from doing things he needs to do. It’s not his responsibility to watch my child, but fuck, the idea of even walking to the front porch seems like the hardest task in the world. My head feels like it’s blanketed in a thick fog and my body can’t make up its mind on whether it’s hot or cold. I’m down to a tank top and a pair of shorts, yet my entire back is drenched with sweat and my flesh is covered in goosebumps.
With a shaky hand, I bring the glass of water up to my mouth, taking a much-needed sip, the cool liquid feeling great going down my dry throat.
Okay. I’ll go check on Sutton really quick, make sure he isn’t bothering Everett or getting in the way of him doing anything, and then I’ll… I don’t know, figure something out for dinner for him. It’s already almost six in the evening, and he’d usually have eaten by now.
Halfway down the hall, I realize I should probably fix my hair. It’s flopping to the side in yesterday’s bun, and knowing that Everett is out there, I don’t really want him to see me like that. I stop in the bathroom near the kitchen, pull the hair tie out from my ratty hair before throwing it back up in another bun, this time in the center of my head.
I take in my reflection, noticing how pale I look. The bags under my eyes are much more prominent today too. Lovely. I hope whatever this is goes away by morning. I don’t have time to be sick. Just as I’m about to walk out of the bathroom, the ache in my abdomen comes back with a vengeance, taking my breath away as I hold on to the counter for support.
Fuck! What the hell is going on?
Breathing through my nose, I wait for it to pass. It’s been doing this all afternoon. Sharp, throbbing pain that knocks the wind right out of me. This one lasts longer than the previous ones, but after a minute or so, it subsides, and I finally let out the deep breath I’d been holding.
It’s okay; I’m fine. Snap out of it, Gemma.
I leave the bathroom and amble toward the front door. Stepping onto the porch, I find the two of them sitting together on the bottom step.
“Hey,” I croak as they both turn around to look up at me.
“Mom!” Sutton stands up, an empty plate in his hands. “Are you feeling better?”