“And your home is here.”

I nod. “I know.”

“I am so happy that you’ve found someone who makes you happy,” Dec says with a smile. “But I see this ending with you broken-hearted and that hurts me too. I don’t want to watch you go through that again.”

“He might stay,” I say optimistically. “I mean, yes, he plays baseball, but, you never know.”

He nods, his eyes sober and maybe a little sad. “Just be smart, Gabs. And if he does break your heart, I’m here.”

“You’re not going to threaten to kill him?”

“No, Beau and Eli will do that.” He grins. “I’m the more passive of the three of us.”

“You know, for a big brother, you’re not so bad.”

“And for a snot-nosed, baby sister, neither are you.”

I laugh as he stands next to me and hug him tightly around the middle. He’s so tall, I feel small next to him. “I’m gonna wipe my snot nose on you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Or, I have a feeling, the last.”

***

I have a very sick little boy on my hands.

“I’m gonna throw up again,” Sam says pitifully. He’s kneeling on the floor of our bathroom, his head hanging in the toilet.

“Okay, buddy, go ahead.” I’m rubbing his little back and holding a cold, wet cloth to his neck. I feel so helpless.

“But I don’t want to.”

“I know, but you’ll feel better after.”

Rhys pokes his head around the doorjamb. “Need me?”

More than anything.

“No, we’re okay.”

Just then, Sam loses his pecan pie in the toilet.

“I’ll bring a bottle of water,” he says and disappears. I had no idea how nice it was to have someone with you when your baby is sick. He hands the water to me, and I take it gratefully.

“Okay, baby, have some water,” I croon to Sam as he sits back on his haunches. He’s breathing hard and sweaty.

Throwing up takes a lot of energy.

Sam cautiously sips the water, looking up at me with water-filled brown eyes.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel good, sweetie.”

“My tummy hurts.”

“I know.” I wipe his face off with the wet cloth and help him brush his teeth, then take him into his room and get him settled in bed. “How do you feel?”

“Tired.”

“Do you feel like you’re going to throw up again?”

He shakes his head no. “Will you stay here until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.” I lean in and kiss his head. He’s warm. Not burning up, but warm. He must have caught a bug from somewhere.

So I sit and sing our song to him, gently stroking his face and hair. His eyes are closed, his cheeks just a little flushed, and his lips are rosy red.

He looks like my baby.

But suddenly, he sits up and throws up, all over both of us and the bed, and immediately bursts into tears.

“What’s happening?” Rhys asks as he runs into the room.

“He got sick again,” I reply grimly, trying to soothe my boy and avoid the vomit. “We’re a little messy here.”

Without missing a beat, Rhys gathers us both into his arms and carries us into the bathroom.

“We’re going to get you messy too. And we stink.”

“You’re fine,” he replies as he sets us down on the closed toilet. “I’m going to go take care of the bed linens. You guys clean up. I’ll bring fresh clothes.”

And with that, he marches out and leaves us to strip out of our clothes, down to our underwear. I toss the soiled pajamas into the hamper, and Rhys passes me fresh ones, not even taking a second to stare at me in my mostly nakedness, and Sam doesn’t even care that Rhys has seen us half naked as I help him into the fresh clothes, then pull mine on too.

“Feel better?” I ask him.

“A little. I’m just tired now.”

“God, you’re heavy,” I mutter as I lift him into my arms and carry him into my bedroom and settle us both into my bed. Rhys will just have to sleep in “his” room tonight. My boy needs me.

Sam is lying in the dead center of the bed and I’m lying on my side beside him, playing with his hair and whispering to him.

“Where’s Derek?” he asks.

“Rhys is getting him all settled for the night.”

“Can he sleep with us?”

“Sure,” Rhys says as he comes into my room and lifts the puppy onto the bed. “I just took him outside, and he’s good to go for tonight.”

He holds my gaze as he strips down to just his T-shirt and underwear and slips into the bed with us.

“Are you sick too?” Sam asks as Derek curls up next to Sam’s legs and with a big, gusty sigh, settles in to sleep.

“No, I just want to hold you and your mom,” Rhys says as he pulls us both against him, Sam between us. “I’m kind of worried about you both, and this makes me feel better.”

“But Mom isn’t sick,” Sam says with a yawn, and I hold my breath, praying that the vomiting is over. But he doesn’t throw up again; he just snuggles against Rhys’s chest.

“No, but she’s worried about you, and that makes me worry about her.”

“Oh,” Sam says with a frown. “But Moms are strong.”

“Your mom is very strong,” Rhys agrees, still holding my gaze with his over Sam’s head. He reaches up and tucks a loose strand of hair that has fallen out of my ponytail behind my ear. “But even moms need someone to look after them.”