Page 49 of All of Me

Katie nods, offering me a small smile. “Of course. I’m just glad Ruby’s okay.”

I walk over to Sara, gently scooping her up from the couch. She stirs briefly, her sleepy voice murmuring, “Mama,” before she nestles against my shoulder and falls back asleep.

Once Ruby is released from the hospital and settled in her car seat, Owen lifts it carefully, making sure she’s bundled tightly in her blanket. He glances at me. “Ready?”

I nod, clutching Sara close. “Let’s go home.”

The house is quiet aside from the creak of the floorboards as I shuffle around the kitchen. My body is exhausted and my limbs are heavy as I pour myself another cup of coffee. We didn’t get home until after four in the morning and, despite every effort to rest, sleep was a fleeting luxury.

Owen didn’t have time to sleep at all before heading to work. He kissed my forehead as he left, muttering something about being fine, but the dark circles under his eyes told another story.

I glance at the couch, where Sara is sprawled out under her favorite blanket, still fast asleep. Ruby is napping in the bassinet nearby, her tiny chest rising and falling steadily. It’s a sight that should bring me peace, but my mind keeps replaying last night—Katie’s text, the frantic drive, the fear that gripped me until the doctor spoke those words: fifth disease.

A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts, and I set my mug down, padding over to answer it. Brooke stands on the other side, a warm smile on her face and a tray of muffins in her hands.

“Thought you could use these,” she says, stepping inside before I can even greet her.

I blink at her, my tired brain struggling to catch up. “You didn’t have to?—”

“Of course I did,” she interrupts, setting the tray on the counter and turning to give me a quick hug. “You had a hell of a night. How are you holding up?”

I sigh, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Tired. Grateful. A little overwhelmed, honestly.”

Brooke glances at Sara and Ruby, her expression softening. “They’re okay, though?”

“They’re fine,” I say. “Ruby’s fever broke before we left the hospital. Sara didn’t wake up once through the whole thing, thank God. It’s just… it was a lot.”

Brooke nods knowingly, leaning against the counter. “And Owen? Did he go to work?”

“Yeah,” I say with a small frown. “He didn’t sleep at all. I told him he should call in, but you know Owen, stubborn as ever.”

Brooke chuckles. “That sounds about right. He’s probably running on fumes.”

I nod, wrapping my hands around my coffee mug. “I just… I hate that he’s pushing himself so hard. He’s been doing everything to support us, and now this…”

“Hey,” Brooke says gently, placing a hand on my arm. “You’re not in this alone, Callie. Owen knows that. And he wouldn’t be doing it if he didn’t want to.”

I swallow hard, her words hitting me in a way I didn’t expect. “I know. I just… I wish I could do more to take some of the weight off him.”

Brooke squeezes my arm before letting go. “You’re doing more than enough. Trust me.” She glances toward the couch, where Sara stirs but doesn’t wake. “Speaking of doing more, why don’t you go lie down for a bit? I’ll keep an eye on the girls.”

I shake my head automatically. “I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve already?—”

“You didn’t ask,” Brooke interrupts firmly. “I offered. Now go. Even an hour will make a difference.”

Her tone leaves no room for argument, and I find myself nodding despite my initial protest. “Okay. Just… wake me if they need anything?”

“Promise,” she says with a wink.

I head toward the bedroom, pausing to glance back at Brooke, who’s already setting up Ruby’s bottle with practiced ease. The weight pressing down on me lifts, just a little, as I watch her. Her calm confidence is a reminder that I don’t have to carry everything on my own.

As I step into the bedroom, I let myself believe—really believe—that everything is going to be okay.

The warmth of the bed envelops me and I stir, half-asleep, as the mattress dips beside me. A familiar scent fills the air as his arms slide around me, pulling me close.

I blink my eyes open, the late afternoon light filtering through the curtains. Owen’s face is inches from mine, his dark eyes heavy with fatigue.

“You’re home,” I murmur, my voice hoarse from sleep.

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