Page 115 of When It's Us
“Oh yeah? You guys eat dinner yet?” I ask, figuring if they haven’t I can stop and grab something then head over and check on Ginger.
“Mama made us a snack with carrots and cheese and hummus. But that was a long time ago. Before she went to sleep.”
I run a hand over my face. That’s unlike her. Even only having been around her with her boys a handful of hours here and there over the last few months, it doesn’t add up. Maybe she’s coming down with something.
“Okay. I’ll bring you guys some food. That cool?”
“Can you bring burgers?”
I grin like an idiot. Ginger might crucify me, but I mutter out, “How about burgersandfries with chocolate milkshakes?”
“Yes!” Jordan exclaims, the usual bounce back in his voice.
“Okay, I’ll be there in a bit. Do you know if Hayley’s home?” I ask, standing and going to the door to let Oakley back in.
“Mama said she was goin’ on a date.”
I nod again, swipe my keys up off the table near the door, tucking my wallet in my pocket. I make sure Oaks stays inside and lock up as I leave the shop. “I’ll be there shortly, okay?”
“Okay bye.”
I knock lightly with my foot, balancing the bag of greasy burgers and fries in one hand, a bendy cardboard tray of four small milkshakes, and the handles of the plastic drugstore bag around the wrist of the other.
I’m not sure if Ginger’s migraine is from being sick, but I didn’t want to show up empty-handed, so I stopped and picked up a few things before grabbing the food.
Just when I think no one will answer, the door creaks open slowly, and Jordan’s little face appears in the crack, fiery red hair messy and hanging over his forehead.
From behind him I hear Tate’s flat voice chiding him quietly. “You’re supposed to ask who’s there first, Jordan.”
“Just me,” I tell him.
His eyes widen as he takes in all the food in my arms. “You really brought milkshakes, too?”
“Didn’t think I’d keep my word?” I ask, still grinning at him. “You wound me, little man.”
He peers up at me. “What’s ‘wound me’ mean?”
I chuckle. “Nothin’. You wanna let me in?”
He nods, pulling the door open wide then turns and scampers through the living room.
As soon as I step foot inside, my eyes land on Ginger. She’s laying on her side, red curls pulled into a loose, messy bun, her hands tucked under her cheek on a pillow. She’s pale, and something in my chest pulls tight. Her auburn lashes flutter a little when I push the door closed with my foot, but she doesn’t wake up.
Leaving her sleeping on the couch, I head into the kitchen and where the boys are already at the table, iPads on low, both watching a different show. I set the bags of food on the table and pull out first the fries, then the burgers.
I don’t know what they like, so I got them with ketchup and mayo, remembering that’s how Paige likes hers.
I grab the ketchup out of the fridge and stick it on the table for their fries, and hand them each a milkshake. I take the other two to the freezer and set them inside. I don’t know if Ginger will feel like it when she wakes up, but it’s there in case she does. Then I unload the bag from the drugstore onto the counter.
I grabbed Gatorade, knowing from experience that sometimes headaches, especially migraines, can be a sign of low electrolytes, some pain killers—two types because the pharmacist said both work well depending on the person, an ice pack, and some chocolate.
I rip into the box with the icepack and stick it in the freezer next to the milkshakes, then make sure the boys don’t need anything else before heading back into the living room.
She’s still fast asleep, so I pull the blanket up over her shoulders and go back to the kitchen.
“Should we wake up Mama?” Jordan asks, mouth stuffed so full I can barely understand him.
“Nah,” I say, taking a seat at the table and swiping a fry from the bag of extras for Ginger. “Let’s let her sleep a bit.”
