Before Jackson can set it down, it’s ringing again. “Hey, man,” he says into the phone. “Yeah, she’s here. Brent thinks all three of them have food poisoning. They ate at the diner for lunch and they all three had the same thing.” He pauses, listening to Blaise. “I’m here, man; just finish what you need to do. Ember is sleeping and Tatum looks like she could drop any second. I’ll call you if something changes.” He disconnects the call as I empty the remaining contents of my stomach.
“F*ck!” I slam my phone down on the counter. Tate is sick and I’m here. I’m supposed to be the one to take care of her.
“What’s up?” Asher says, sticking his head around the corner into my room. “Ember and Tatum had lunch with Leah today at the diner. All three of them are sick. Brent thinks they have food poisoning.”
“Damn, Grace was supposed to go too, but she declined to come here and work at the shop with me. I felt bad at first, now I’m glad she didn’t go.” Asher walks in and looks at my schedule sitting on the desk. “I know what Dave wants. They just had baby number four, right?” he asks me.
I nod. “Yeah, another boy. He was hoping this one would be a girl.”
“What about your six o’clock?” he asks.
I shrug. “No one that I know.”
Grace walks in. “I scheduled that one. They didn’t request anyone specific,” she says.
“Great, I’ll stay and do your six. I’m sure Dave is fine with me inking baby number four’s name. If not, I’ll explain and we’ll do the job for free when you reschedule. Go to her,” he tells me.
I don’t need to be told twice. I thank him, kiss Grace on the cheek, and rush out the door. My girl needs me.
I break several speed laws on the way to their apartment. The fifteen-minute drive is cut in half. I hop on the elevator and will it to move faster. I have my key out and ready as soon as the doors open. I let myself into the apartment; all is dark and quiet. Jackson is coming out of Ember’s room as I’m walking down the hall. “Hey, man, how are they?” I ask.
“Neither one of them has gotten sick for over an hour, which Brent says is a good sign. He says to keep them hydrated with small sips and rest.”
“Thanks for being here, man,” I say, patting his shoulder and heading toward Tatum’s room.
“I thought you had to work?” he asks.
“I did, but since it wasn’t a client who requested me, Asher said he would do it so I could be here.”
I slowly open the door to her room and see her curled up on her side, sound asleep. There is a large trashcan beside the bed and a bottle of water on the nightstand. Jackson has been taking good care of her.
I slip off my shoes, jeans, and shirt, and slide in next to her. Food poisoning isn’t contagious, but I wouldn’t care if it was. I gently slide up against her and wrap my arms around her waist.
“Blaise?” she asks, her voice hoarse.
“Hey you,” I say softly.
“I told you not to—”
“Shh. It’s okay, babe. Asher took my clients so I could take care of you.” I kiss the back of her head. “Just rest.”
“I’m never eating at the diner again,” she moans.
I hold her tight and eventually sleep claims me, too.
A few hours later, I wake to sounds of Tatum getting sick again. I jump out of bed and pull her hair back. “Blaise, you don’t have to be here. I don’t want you to see me like this,” she says through her sobs.
“Tate, I’m in this. All or nothing, baby, remember. I got you,” I say as I help her lean against the headboard and hand her a bottle of water. “Swish your mouth out and spit it back in the bottle. I’ll get you a new one.”
She does as I say and slides back down into the bed. I take the bag out of the can and replace it with one of the extras that Jackson had lying on the nightstand. He was prepared. I expect keeping up with two of them he had to be. I walk the trash out to the dumpster and stop back by the kitchen to wash my hands and grab Tate a fresh bottle of water. I climb back into bed with her, and she curls up against my side and falls back to sleep.
The next morning, both girls make it to the couch, but refuse food. Jackson and I both stay with them and make sure they are keeping hydrated as much as possible. At six, there is a soft knock on the door. Jackson opens it to find my mom and dad. Dad is holding a large pot, which smells a lot like Mom’s homemade chicken soup.
Surprisingly, the girls are both able to eat a little soup and a few crackers and keep them down. I hug my parents and thank them as I walk them to the door.
“Take care of our girls,” my dad says.
I smile at him including Tate. “Jackson and I have it covered,” I tell him.
We’re all exhausted from the last twenty-four hours, so we go to bed early. I wrap Tate up in my arms and we drift off to sleep.
The next day, Tatum insists on going to work. I’m on call for the department, so I insist I drive her. I walk her in and stop to talk to Mom for a few minutes.
“Keep an eye on her today. She’s no longer getting sick and she was able to hold down the soup last night. She had a piece of dry toast this morning. She says she feels better, just weak.”
Mom chuckles, “Blaise, I will make sure Tatum is well taken care of. Off you go; some of us have to work.” She winks at me and I smile. I know Tatum is in good hands.
Today has been a quiet day. I mowed the grass and got some things done around the house. One more hour and I can pick Tatum up from work. I plan on bringing her back here tonight.
Just as I’m getting out of the shower, my pager goes off. I rush to get dressed, hop in my truck, turn on my sirens, and head to the station. On my way there, I call Tate.
“Hello?”
“Hey, babe. I just got paged for a run. I won’t be able to pick you up. Have Mom drop you off at the station and you can drive my truck home,” I tell her.
“That’s silly. I’ll just call Ember and have her pick me up. I’m sure she won’t mind. Besides, how am I supposed to get in that monstrosity without your help?” she asks.
I laugh. “All right, babe. I’ll call you when we’re done. I’m technically on call until tomorrow morning at eight. I hope this will be the only call we have tonight. How are you feeling?”
“Much better. Ember brought me some leftover soup and I ate the entire bowl with some crackers. I am back among the living,” she tells me.
“That’s great, babe. Don’t over do it. Be safe going home. I’ll call you when I get off.”
“Be safe, B,” she says softly.
“Always, baby,” I say as I end the call.
When I get to the firehouse, the truck is ready to roll. I hop into my gear and we’re off. Mike, one of the full-timers, fills me in on the way. Apparently, the Williamson’s training stables caught on fire. Old man Williamson made a name for himself training horses for events such as the Kentucky Derby. When I say stables, that’s an understatement. It’s a full-blown facility complete with therapy rooms, three indoor riding areas, stalls, tack rooms, offices, you name it. The building alone takes up the better part of five acres. I have no idea how much square footage that is. I do know if the entire building is on fire, my girl will be sleeping alone tonight.
I call Ember and ask her if she will pick me up. She insists it’s no problem and she’s on her way. I straighten up my desk and shut down my computer. I decide to wait for her in the lobby. Nancy’s there with the local news station pulled up on her screen.