Page 58 of Three Pucking Words
Unfortunately, Idomiss taco night because Gemma is running a high enough fever for Joe and Helen to take her urgent care. It takes me half the amount of time to drive there only to find Gemma laughing as she listens to Joe’s heartbeat through a stethoscope that the doctor let her borrow. She’s pale, her cheeks are red, and her pretty green eyes are glassy, but she seems in good spirits.
Until we get home.
That’s when her little body crashes, and I feel utterly helpless when she cries for her mom until she falls asleep on me on the couch.
Cries. For. Her. Mom.
Hearing those words may have caused my one big heartbreak in life.
Sebastian and Tori bring leftovers for dinner, medicine for Gemma, and a new stuffed animal to add to her growing collection as a get-better-soon gift. And despite Joe and Helen offering to take her so my busy schedule doesn’t get uprooted, I call coach and tell him I won’t be in for practice or tape review.
It results in me being benched for a game.
Policy rule.
But I don’t care. All I want is for Gemma to feel better. And when she wraps her arms around me in a vice grip that doesn’t let go when I try depositing her into her bed, I cram myself onto the tiny twin mattress with her, despite it being too narrow and too short.
I decide to deal with the consequences, which will probably require a lot of pain killers and stretching tomorrow.
All for Gemma.
Always for her.
And my heart melts for the little girl whose fever makes her a furnace against me as she cuddles in closer and whispers, “I love you, Daddy.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Honor
I’m not entirelysure what I’m doing here, even as I send the tip to my driver through the app, who tried telling me Puck couldn’t come into his car despite him being a service animal. It isn’t the first time someone hasn’t believed Puck is a working dog. It’s why I used to keep his paperwork with me at all times, before remembering through training that businesses can’t directly ask to see his certifications. Now that I’ve had him for five years, I’ve stopped letting people’s doubts get to me and usually remind them that there are laws protecting the discrimination of people who have service animals.
That usually shuts them up.
But here we are, standing at the curb in front of the familiar modern bungalow that must have cost Bodhi a pretty penny. I’m still surprised that he doesn’t live in a gated community like most of his teammates probably do.
My fingers fidget on the edges of the soup container that I’d personally made. It’s the only recipe I can make with my eyes closed. Well, maybe cracked. It started when I was eight and had to figure out how to heat up a can of chicken noodle soup after Mom didn’t come home. But a girl can only eat so much of the same thing before she gets tired of it.
So, I experimented until I could make a lot of different recipes. Chicken noodle soup, tomato, potato, cream of broccoli, and one very bad attempt at clam chowder. I still feel nauseous smelling seafood.
Puck scratches his ear, reminding me that I’m standing in the middle of the sidewalk like a creeper. The longer I stay outside staring at his house, the likelier one of his neighbors will think I’m a stalker fan and call the cops. I can’t imagine trying to prove to the police I’m not.“No, really, officer! I’m here to give his sick child soup. I swear there’s not anthrax in it!”
My father would have to bail me out of a jail, and every news headline would feature my horrible mugshot that showcases the acne I woke up with this morning.
No thank you.
Clearing my throat, I do what I came here to do when I found out that Bodhi wasn’t coming in. I’d been more worried than a girl who barely knows somebody should be. But when Karina said it had to do with Gemma being sick, I knew I had one thing that could hopefully help.
Soup.
Homemade soup that’s still warm. Which makes me jump into gear rather than stand outside to let it completely cool down.
My knock is quiet, riddled with nerves as the corner of my eye notices the doorbell camera to my right. I press the little circle in the middle and watch it light up, suddenly hoping that Gemma isn’t sleeping somewhere that can be disturbed.
That anxiety goes away when Bodhi opens the door with a tired, but surprised, smile on his face. He has bedhead that makes his shoulder-length hair look frizzy, and bags under his glossy eyes that makes me wonder ifhewas sleeping.
Ugh. I suck. “I’m sorry to bother you,” I rush out guiltily. “But I wanted to bring you this.”
His eyes go down to what I thrust forward.
