Page 89 of Resisting Isaac
So much for my excuse.
Holding a mason jar and a dishtowel, she smiles warmly when I open the door. “Sorry to interrupt. I just brought that ginger lemon tea I make when you kids have upset stomachs. It’s still warm.”
We’re all fully grown now, but I know better than to correct my mother.
Her eyes bounce from me to Elena behind me. “I can seeyou two have it handled. I’ll just leave this and be on my way.”
Elena nods, blinking fast. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Logan. For the tea. That’s really thoughtful of you.”
“No problem, sweetheart,” she says gently. But just as I’m about to open the door to see her out, there’s another knock. Soft, but persistent.
I inhale deeply and open the door once more.
Ivy stands there looking concerned. “Hey, I just want to see how Elena was feeling.”
We’ve reached the portion of the evening where the whole damn Logan clan comes to check on her.
“Elena?” Ivy peers in, her smile softening when she sees Elena’s face. “Hey, hon. I’m sorry to bother you. I was just checking to see how you were holding up.”
“I’m fine,” Elena says quickly, voice cracking. “I’m okay.”
They both linger for a beat, but I tip my chin toward the door. “I’ve got her. She’ll be okay. I’ll keep you both updated. Promise.”
Mom presses the tea into my hand. “Warm this up a glass at a time and stir a teaspoon of honey in it while it’s still warm.”
I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”
Ivy casts a long glance at me then Elena, then leaves arm in arm with my mom.
Once they’re gone, I close the door behind them and turn back to my stressed-out girl.
She’s curled on the edge of the couch now, knees pulled up, looking a million miles away.
“You good? Want some of this tea now or later?”
She shakes her head. “That was weird. Do you think they suspect something?”
I set the tea on the table and lower myself beside her. “Not at all. Meddling and caretaking are pastimes we take very seriously in this family.”
“I’m not used to people…” She swallows. “Taking care of me.”
“I figured,” I say, nudging her shoulder with mine. “But it’s not a bad thing, you know. Letting people in. Long as they’re good people.”
Her eyes meet mine. They’re scared. Fierce. Tired. Worried.
“Let’s take tonight,” I say. “No decisions. No plans. You just rest. I’ll sleep on the couch. Keep an ear out in case you get sick in the middle of the night. You need anything—tea, trash can to puke in, someone to yell at—I’m your guy.”
“And tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” I say softly, brushing her hair behind her ear, “We’ll have dinner at my place and talk. I’ll order in so my cooking doesn’t nearly kill you.”
She lets one side of her mouth lift. “We both know it wasn’t the food.” She shudders. “But actually, maybe no more eggs or bacon or anything with grease or a smell.”
I press a kiss to her temple, and her whole body relaxes.
“Tofu tacos it is. For now, let’s see if you can hold this tea down.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
