I slide off the mattress with ease. I’m closest to the door and stand in his way. He can move me out of the way if he wants to get by. “What’s going on? Is this because of that stupid secret I kept, because you’ve seemed to quite easily get over it with Ashton. I’m glad you’re getting along, but why are you pushing me away?”
He runs a hand through his hair and tilts his head back, emitting an exhausting sigh. “I’m not mad at you. Ashton and I are fine. We’re good. You and I are good. I’m just … sick.”
“Sick, how? What’s wrong? Let me help.” If he’s truly not feeling well, I want to be there for him. “Is it depression?” I ask, concerned that maybe he’s having dark thoughts and afraid to share them with me.
“No.” Luca shakes his head and stares at me. “You don’t have to worry about me, Harper. I’m fine.”
“You’re just not interested in hockey anymore?” I ask. From what I can tell, he’s gone to one, maybe two classes this week. Most have an online option that he’s elected to do while “sick.”
I don’t want to believe that he’s faking it. I don’t think Luca would do that; he’s always had a strong ethic when it comes to studying and working, which has me frazzled.
“I love hockey. I’m disappointed that I can’t play tonight, but I can’t.” There’s a longing in his voice, a sadness that tells me something is wrong. He just won’t say what it is.
I’ll get to the bottom of it. I have to, because I care deeply for Luca.
“And your coach won’t require a doctor’s note for bailing on the team? I don’t want you to face any consequences for not showing up.”
“I’m not bailing. I’m sick.”
“So, you’ve said, repeatedly. Ashton claims it’s stomach-related, hence the soup. Earlier in the week, you were telling me your throat was scratchy and sore.” I don’t remind him that I’ve heard him toss a few coughs in there when I’m walking by, which always make him look more miserable.
“If it’s your stomach, maybe it’s something that requires medicine. Like antibiotics or something? You’ve been nauseous for a week.”
“It’s nothing a doctor can do anything about.”
I quirk a smile. “Are you pregnant?” I’m obviously joking, but Luca doesn’t look the least bit amused by my line of questioning.
He rolls his eyes and gently guides me aside as he stalks out of the room, and Zeke comes running right for him, slamming into his knees.
“Climb, Dada!” Zeke mumbles his words together but wants Luca to lift him and topple him around like a monkey, in much the same way Ashton has been doing all week.
“Daddy doesn’t feel well,” I say, untangling Zeke from Luca’s legs and dropping kisses to his cheeks and face before he squeals and demands to be put back down on the ground.
I consider that a win.
I put Zeke back on the ground, and he runs to Ashton, who holds his arms out with wide eyes and a huge smile, playing with my son.
Liam stands in the hallway, his back to his bedroom, arms folded across his chest. He glances from me to Ashton. “Harper, I think you should take Luca to urgent care.”
“Yeah?” I nod slowly. “I agree.”
“Well, I don’t agree, and I’m not going.” Luca storms across the hallway, past Liam as he heads into Zeke’s room and slams the door shut.
“I didn’t know we had two toddlers,” Liam quips, and I can’t help but smile.
Me either.
Ashton hands me Zeke. “Sorry, I’d love to babysit, but Liam and I need to head over to the ice arena.”
“Let us know how it goes with Luca,” Liam says.
I watch them head out and really wish that Nova were here to help. Maybe Luca would listen to his sister. She’s at a study group this afternoon before she goes to Ashton’s hockey game.
Carrying Zeke, I knock on my son’s bedroom door and open it, watching Luca seated at the edge of the mattress, head bent forward, his hands clasped together.
“It’s just the three of us,” I say, hoping that maybe he’ll feel relieved and will suddenly talk to me. Not that he chose to do that in the privacy of our bedroom.
Luca doesn’t so much as glance up at me.