Page 33 of Shot Through the Heart

With careful and slow movements, I finally manage to get Harper off my arm, sliding one of her bigger stuffed unicorns in my place for her to cuddle. I make sure that the large plastic bowl will be in her sight in case she wakes up needing it and leave her door open a crack.

I pause at the top of the stairs. Exhaustion hits me like a violent wave, and it takes all my motivation not to turn around and curl up in my own bed. Everyone always says to sleep when the kids do. I say that’s complete bullshit. If I slept every time Harper did, nothing would ever get done. The faint buzz of the dryer finishing its cycle is finally what sets me in motion.

After emptying the clean sheets from the dryer, switching the load of clothes that didn’t make it through the day, and starting another wash cycle, I head to the kitchen. The downstairs looks like a storm came through, but there’s only so much I can do. Eva offered to come help me, but since her sister was the first one to get sick and is just now feeling better five days later, I wasn’t going to risk either of them getting sick again. She felt so bad when the girls’ slumber party was cut short after Zoey’s dinner made a repeat appearance. Something I could have handled on my own, had the poor girl not cried for Eva until she came to get her.

We knew there was a chance that Harper would get sick too, but once we made it past the forty-eight-hour mark, I thought we were in the clear.

Turns out, whatever bug this is just likes to play mind games.

I bite back a groan when I catch a glimpse of the time on the oven and see it’s just barely past seven o’clock in the evening. If it were closer to midnight, I would probably have convinced myself to leave everything until tomorrow. There’s no way I could get any rest now. Mom guilt would eat me alive and keep me up.

But first, maybe a little caffeine to help get through the worst of it.

While a half pot of half-caff coffee brews, because I do not need to be up until three a.m., I work on unloading the clean dishes from the dishwasher. If I had been smart, I would have made sure to catch up on dishes in those two days where I thought Harper wasn’t going to get sick. Between work and spending time at the playground or the beach, things just slipped away from me.

Doing dishes is easily my least favorite chore, yet at the same time, it’s the one that quiets my mind the most. I go through the motions, managing to fitalmostevery dish in. The smell of a fresh pot of coffee permeates the air, making me sigh in relief as I fill a mug. Spinning on my heel, I reach for the fridge to grab some creamer but freeze at the sight of the dry-erase calendar on the front.

My heart drops to my stomach as I grapple to figure out what day it is. When the answer keeps coming back with one that is not good, I whirl around and snap into action to find my phone. It takes me five minutes to find it discarded between couch cushions and just as I confirm my fears, the doorbell rings.

I curse under my breath, ignoring the slew of unread messages and the missed call from Eva. It’s only from a couple minutes ago, so chances are it’s her at my door wanting to check in on us. A quick glance around my messy living room makes me cringe, but it’s nothing Eva isn’t used to. I’m focused on my phone so I can start drafting an email as I open the front door, talking before she can answer.

“Sorry, I just found my phone. I need your help to—” I trail off as the sight of men’s shoes over the edge of my phone catches my attention. Almost dumbly, I blink repeatedly, convinced I’m seeing things and that the shoes will magically shift to a set of the heels Eva always wears.

“So you’re not sick?” The low timbre from the voice in front of me makes my head snap up. My chest tightens, and my pulse quickens as I stare at Greyson.

“What are you…” I start and he holds up a brown paper bag.

“Lilly said you were sick. When you didn’t show up for the pre-game meet like we agreed to and didn’t email…” He lowers the bag, his appraising gaze roaming down the length of my body before he shifts on his feet. “Then Lilly said she hadn’t heard from you all day, but that Eva finally told her you were sick. So I figured…”

I just stare at him. I didn’t show up, so instead of calling my boss, he decided it was better to show up at my door…

Instinctively, my hand flies out to grab the door, closing it slightly and limiting his view into my home.

“Well, thanks, but I’m fine. I’m sorry I missed today’s game. We can work out a way to make up for that if you want. I’m sure Mr. Walker can come up with an adjustment to the agreement so you’re not shorted out on anything.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about right now. When you didn’t show up…” He shakes his head and lets out a frustrated breath. “I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” I say. The desire to wrap this up and get him out of my entryway boils under my skin. “It’s been a rough day, but everything will be back to normal before?—”

“Mommy?”

My eyes close at the sound of Harper’s sleepy voice behind me. Inhaling deeply, I open them and shoot a glare at Greyson. The confusion on his face almost makes me pause, but my daughter’s approaching footsteps set me in motion. I turn, blocking the half-open door, and find Harper staring at me with tears streaming down her face.

“Oh, sweetie,” I soothe, ignoring Greyson completely and move to crouch in front of her. “What’s wrong?”

Harper’s eyes bounce behind me and I want to curse, to turn around and slam the door in Greyson’s face so she never has to see him. The need to protect my daughter from being hurt by him is strong and is almost enough to make me lash out.

Somewhere in the deep corners of my mind, logic reminds me that reacting harshly would probably cause issues with the work side of things. So instead, I straighten my spine and block her view as best I can. It’s then that the smell coming off her hits my nose and I cringe.

“Did you throw up again?”

She nods sheepishly and more tears stream down her face.

“It gots in my hair,” she cries, and I reach to cup her little face in mine and wipe away her tears.

“That’s okay, baby, we can rinse it out and put on fresh jammies. Easy fix.”

Her bottom lip trembles as she looks up at me. I gather her in my arms, already knowing I’ll have to change my clothes too as I head toward the stairs.

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