Page 110 of Mine For The Winter

They both knew the drill by now. She’d lost count of how many times he’d brought home a bug since he’d started kindergarten. He knelt down on the bathroom floor as she stroked his head and he emptied his guts.

She hated this. Watching him turn green and look so awful. Whenever he was sick she wanted to take whatever illness he had from him, suffer it herself.

All moms did, she figured. Who liked seeing their child suffer?

“Ooohh.” Cole lifted his head and she wiped his mouth, then gave him a glass of water.

“I can’t.”

“You’ll feel better if you do,” she told him. “Just swish some around and spit it out again.”

He did as she told him but he didn’t look like he felt any better.

“You think you’re done?” she asked him.

Cole nodded.

“Okay. I’ll grab a bowl from the kitchen just in case. You want to sleep with me tonight?”

“No. I’ll stay in my room.”

She blinked, surprised. He’d always curled up with her whenever he was sick. And though she hated that he was unwell she kind of loved taking care of him. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He was growing up. Didn’t even need her when he was sick. That was a good thing, what she wanted for him.

And yet a tiny part of her felt sad that she couldn’t make everything better.

So he headed back to bed and she brought him the bowl, sitting next to him until he drifted off to sleep. When his breathing was steady and his face was peaceful, she tiptoed back to her bedroom and glanced at her phone by the side of her bed.

It was three in the morning. In another four hours she’d need to be up and heading to the tavern.

If Cole was feeling better.

But what if he wasn’t? She couldn’t leave him sick while she worked. But she couldn’t not work, either. There wasn’t enough staff and those that would be working were too green to open and close, let alone to troubleshoot any problems that came their way.

It wasn’t often that she worried about being a single mom, but right now she felt it right to her bones. Her dad wasn’t well enough himself to look after a sick child.

“Maybe he’ll be better in the morning,” she murmured to herself. Especially if it was just the effects of overeating.

That was the only thought that calmed her enough to go back to sleep.

At least until she heard the sound of her son being sick again an hour later. From the light shining in the bathroom, she knew he’d at least made it there. “I’m coming,” she whisper-shouted, because her dad was asleep and she wanted him to stay that way. “Hold on, honey.”

When she got to the bathroom this time Cole was hunched on the floor, his skin so pale he looked like a ghost. His hair was plastered to his face and his lips looked almost blue. “It hurts.”

“I know. I hate being sick, too.” She brushed the hair off his face. “It’s going to be okay, sweetie. I’m here, I’ll take care of you.”

Then he let out a groan, touching his stomach. “Mom, it really hurts.”

“Where?” she asked him, trying not to panic as he clutched at his belly. “Show me where.”

“Here.” He pressed his hand to the center of his stomach, his fingers on his belly button. “Right here.”

“Okay. Let me see.” She lifted his pajama top gently, but his skin looked normal. No rashes or discoloration. “Do you think it hurts because you’ve eaten too much?” she asked him.

“I don’t know,” he grunted. A sheen of sweat covered his face.

“Okay, okay.” She pulled her lip between her teeth. “Let’s see how you feel come morning. If you feel worse in a couple of hours we’ll call the doctor.”

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