Page 33 of Dying to Meet You

“Get your backpack, Wes. I need to find my keys. Where did I put them?” I just had them in my hand. “We need to leave soon.”

“Okay, Mommy. Can I give this to Petunia first?” He holds up a banana. This kid...I swear his compassion is a complete wonder. With his sweet angelic smile, he adds “I’ll be fast.”

“Wes, honey, you were already out there. That’s how you missed your bus to begin with.”

Caleb walks in from the living room shaking his head. “No more treats. You gave her an apple when you woke up. Mom’s right, you’re going to be late if you don’t go get your backpack.”

“Mornin’, angel,” Caleb says before kissing the top of my head. “I can bring Wes to school if you want. I’m not needed at work for a couple of hours.”

It’s tempting, but the school is on my way, and I can drop into the counselor’s office regarding Zinnea’s refusal to leave the classroom for free time. “I’ve got it.” Finally finding the keys I left inside the refrigerator when I grabbed my coffee creamer, I shake my head muttering, “Unbelievable.”

Peeking out the kitchen window, I see Wes galloping around with a stick, still no backpack in sight.

Caleb looks over my shoulder. “I’ll move him along. At this rate, he should be at school by lunchtime.” He chuckles under his breath. “Before I forget, Zeb has a temp. I know he’s teething, but he could be getting sick. I laid him back down after his bottle. Hutton said he’ll keep an eye on him after I leave.” I’m thankful he’s able to break away from work to do it. I have a full day of patients today, and Zeb can’t go to my grandmother if he’s not feeling well.

I set my purse, messenger bag, and keys down. “I’m just going to look in on him. Be right back.”

“I’ll round our kiddo up.” Planting a kiss to the side of my head before he walks out the door, Caleb adds, “This may take a few minutes.”

Likely. Weston can turn any task into a twenty-minute ordeal. He goes on side quests, starts to relay stories, and, before you know it, he’s changed into his karate outfit to show you, his kicks. Which I wholeheartedly love about him, but it makes schedules tough.

With a flushed face and little snorts from congestion, Zeb is asleep. I run my hand over his forehead, smoothing his fine, white-blonde hair away. Warm to the touch, it’s clear he’s not feeling well. I make a mental note to call and make an appointment for a doctor’s visit.

I’m checking the time on my cell phone as I’m descending the stairs when it rings. Keir’s name lights up on my screen.

“Did you see your flowers this morning?” he asks. I was greeted by a huge bouquet of flowers on the kitchen counter, a mix of two dozen red roses, white lilies, and daisies with assorted greenery. Stunning.

“I did. Warner was trying to feed them to the dog.” I love hearing his laugh ring out. “What’s the occasion?”

“Does there need to be one?”

We continue to talk while I pull on a pair of flats, pocket my keys and take a last look at the flowers. “Love ya, but I need to go. I have a six-year-old to deliver.”

Caleb is leaning against the side of the barn on his cellphone. “Where’s Weston?”

“Wasn’t he in the house grabbing his backpack? He said he would be right out.”

Ugh…I turn around to go back inside, calling for him as I go. “Weston!?” Racing around the house calling his name, I double-check his bedroom, growing irritated with him.

Caleb opens the back door and calls, “Eden? He’s not in the barn or the animal pen. I’m going to check the treehouse. He and Zach were playing there yesterday, so maybe he left his bag there.”

After fifteen minutes of going back through the house and finding his backpack on the floor in front of the family room sofa, I’m feeling slightly sick. I race back outside to find Caleb coming back alone from the treehouse.

Weston wanders off when he gets caught up playing but it’s not like him to ignore us calling for him.

This time is different.

He knows not to leave the property without telling one of us.

My heart quakes as I see his little redPaw Patrolsneaker in the ditch. “Caleb? Caleb!”

Running toward the road, I look over my shoulder as he races behind me. “Call Hutton…get Hutton, please.”

To whatever power runs this show on earth, please don’t do this. Not again. We won’t survive it.

Chapter Twenty

Palpable pain

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