“Right. Yes. Okay.” I can barely think straight because my mind is spiraling through worst-case scenarios.
She’s got a stomach bug; maybe it’s food poisoning…but what if it’s something worse?
Reese guides me through the crowd, his hand at my back as we weave between dancers. The music that felt fun and freeing moments ago now feels suffocating and loud, keeping me from my daughter.
The cool night air hits my face as we burst through the doors, and I'm already dialing Jamie back. It rings once. Twice, but there’s no answer.
I text him, asking how things are going, but it remains unread, only making me panic.
“She'll be okay,” Reese says, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “Maya has fever spikes all the time. It looks scarier than it is.”
I nod, but can't formulate a response. All I can think about is getting to my daughter.
When we finally pull into the driveway, I'm out of the car before Reese has fully stopped. “Thank you,” I call over my shoulder. “For everything.”
“Go,” he waves me off. “Call me if you need anything.”
I race up the path, fumbling with my keys. The house is quiet when I enter, and there’s no signs of the panic I expected.
“Jamie?” I call, dropping my purse on the floor. “Ella?”
“Upstairs!” Jamie's voice calls back.
“Where?” I ask, taking two stairs at a time.
“In your bathroom.”
I don’t think, I just move, and with both hands clutched to the edge of the door frame, I take a sharp breath.
“What the—”
Jamie and Ella are both fully clothed, soaking wet in the bathtub. Ella giggles as she splashes water at him. Her cheeks are a little flushed, but she’s smiling, clearly not in distress.
“Mommy!” she exclaims when she sees me. “Jamie told me to take a bath with my clothes on. Isn't that silly?”
“So silly,” I agree, the relief making my knees weak. I cross to the tub, kneeling beside it to feel her forehead. She's warm, but not alarmingly so. “How are you feeling, baby?”
“My head hurts a little,” she admits. “But the water is nice and cool.”
I look at Jamie, who's watching me with an expression of equal parts embarrassment and concern. His hair is plastered to his forehead, his t-shirt clinging to his chest, and he's never looked more endearing.
“What happened?” I ask him softly.
“After our second watch ofIced Out,she started crying,” he explains with one hand still supporting Ella’s back. “She said her stomach hurt and then her temperature spiked to 102.3, and I panicked.” He starts rubbing Ella’s back, his focus entirely on her. “I may have called 911 when I couldn’t get through to you.”
“You called 911 for a fever?”
He shrugs, and avoids eye contact. “I didn't know what else to do. The dispatcher was nice about it, though. Said to give her some children's Tylenol and put her in a lukewarm bath to bring the temperature down. I couldn't find any medicine, and she was crying, so I put her in the bath, but she was afraid I’d leave, so…”
“So you got in with her,” I finish, unable to suppress a smile.
“I panicked,” he admits again. “I've never dealt with a sick kid before.”
Ella splashes more water, oblivious to her father's distress. “Jamie said we're having a special swim party,” she informs me seriously. “But inside instead of in a pool.”
“That sounds fun,” I say, brushing her damp hair from her forehead. “But I think the swim party might be over now. Time to get dry and warm.”
“Aww,” she pouts, but doesn't protest when Jamie stands up, water cascading off both of them. I grab a towel and wrap it around her as he passes her to me, then offer him one as well.