Page 63 of Tell Me Lies

Even through her exhaustion, Amelia’s eyes stay open the slightest bit, and she looks at the medicine. “No,” she cries. “I don’t want to.”

I expect Maci to set the syringe down and give up. This is the first time she’s had to go through caring for a sick child—or helping to care for one. It isn’t for the faint of heart. I love being a dad more than anything in this world, including hockey. But this shit isn’t easy. Sickness, temper tantrums—they aren’t for everyone. And tomorrow, I have to fucking leave for Pennsylvania for an away game and leave Amelia with Maci here, alone, expecting her to care for my kid because I have no one else.

Instead, she continues to rub her back as Amelia starts to doze off again. “For me, Amy? Will you take the medicine for me?”

Amelia’s eyes crack open, but she doesn’t speak.

Maci’s hand reaches for Clyde’s head, giving it a pat. “Clyde is so worried about you, sweetie. Can you take the medicine for him? He really wants you to.”

Slowly but surely, Amelia nods. “Okay,” she utters, coughing a few times and wiping her nose.

Bringing the medicine to my daughter’s lips, Maci gives a reassuring smile. “Ready? Clyde’s watching.”

Gently, she gives her the medicine. And even though Amelia pulls back slightly, she doesn’t fight it.

Once it’s all gone, Maci gives me a small smile and leans forward, kissing my cheek. “You can take a breath. She’s okay.”

Amelia’s soft snores through her stuffy nose show how tired she is because she’s back asleep within seconds.

I hold her tiny body, keeping her close. “Just never gets easier, you know. Every time she’s sick or she falls down, I’m fucking terrified.” I shrug my shoulders, looking down at my kid. “She’s my number one. I’m just … scared of something happening to her. And now, I have to leave tomorrow.” My eyes lift to hers, shame filling my gut. “What kind of parent leaves their kid when they are sick?”

Her hand cups my cheek. “The kind that doesn’t have a choice, Logan,” she whispers softly. “We will be fine, I promise. And if I need anything, I’ll call my mom; she’s a nurse.”

Maybe it’s because Amelia is sick and Maci knows that I need her, but whatever it is, she’s looking at me the way she did before I went and opened my mouth, fucking everything up.

This thing we have, it feels like we’re a team. I know she’s got secrets, but I don’t care. Right now, my daughter and I need her. And I think she needs us too.

“There’s your daddy, babe,” I whisper against Amelia’s hair as I hold her on my lap. “He’s showing off, scoring two goals tonight.”

Even if the announcers weren’t discussing him by name—which, of course, they are—and I couldn’t see his number on the back of his jersey, I’d still know it was him simply by the way that he moves. A way that makes my heart squeeze in my chest just from watching him.

She doesn’t respond because she’s dozed off again, but I still brag about her dad to her every few minutes when the announcers say he’s done something great. Every now and then, she coughs, but Logan had the doctor come to the house to check her over last night, and he said her cough is just from post-nasal drip from her runny nose and that she just has some sort of virus. She feels absolutely terrible, and despite the vaporizers, Vicks VapoRub, and Motrin I’ve given her, she doesn’t seem to be improving. She won’t eat or drink anything either, but the doctor assured us last night that it will pass and that we just need to be patient.

I’ve never been so nervous in my life.

Amelia, Clyde, and I have hardly left the couch all day. And I doubt I’ll sleep tonight either.

Logan has texted about one hundred times today, as well as called before his game to check on her. He will be home sometime tomorrow morning. I promised him I have it all undercontrol. And I do, I guess. But I’m just not used to this. I feel like there’s nothing I can do to make her better, so instead, I’ve just been snuggling her close to me.

I brush my hand over her forehead. Despite giving her Motrin every six hours, she’s still fighting off her fever. Hopefully, tomorrow, she’ll start to turn the corner for the better.

Her stomach muscles tighten, and her body tenses just before she begins to cough, waking herself up.

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’m right here,” I whisper, rubbing her back.

She whimpers, wiping her nose and snuggling against me. “I love you, Maci.” She barely croaks out the words before she coughs again.

Warmth spreads across my chest just before that painful feeling stabs my heart. “I love you too,” I say, fighting back the urge to cry. “So very much.”

“Hey, Sterns. I got a joke for you.” Smith can hardly contain his laughter as he tucks the rest of his shit into his duffel bag. “What do clouds wear under their pants?” He looks around before grinning at me. “Thunderpants.”

“No.” I shake my head, holding my hand up at him. “Nope. No. That’s just fucking wrong, Sawyer. Dad jokes are my thing.It’s funny when I tell them. When you do it, it’s just fucking weird.”

“Nah, it’s weird when you do it too, bud,” Kolt calls out, “but you do it anyway.”

“I’m still gonna keep telling them.” I shrug. “One day, you’ll learn to like them, you grumpy old bastard,” I tease Kolt before taking my phone out.

I look down at the message I just got back from Maci after she read mine. She promises me that everything is okay there and that Amelia is resting and has had her medicine.

---