Ben moved closer. "Dylan said you'd probably be too sick to go to the movies tomorrow."
"It seems Dylan says a lot," she murmured, then reached out to touch Ben's cheek. "We'll have to see. How was school?"
"It was pretty good. A bird got into the classroom during math and Mrs. Lieter chased it around. It kept crashing into the windows."
"Pretty exciting."
"Yeah, but then she opened one of the windows and got a broom."
"Tricia fell on the playground and got a big bump on her head." Chris leaned over to fuss with the thin gold chain his mother wore, which had fascinated him since childhood. "She cried for a long time. I fell down and didn't cry at all. Well, not very much," he corrected meticulously. "Dylan was going to put me in the washing machine."
Abby stopped running a hand over Chris's hair. "I beg your pardon?"
"Well, there was all this mud and stuff and—" Dylan interrupted before Chris's storytelling got his brother in deep water. "A little accident, it's still pretty slippery outside."
As Abby looked on, Ben tilted his head and sent Dylan a quick sidelong look. A mixture of guilt and gratitude. "I see." At least she thought she did. She was also wise enough not to pursue it. "This is a great dinner, you guys, but I don't think I can eat any more right now."
Dylan took the remaining juice off the tray and set it on the nightstand. "Why don't you two take the tray down? I'll be along in a minute."
As soon as they'd gone, Dylan picked up the thermometer.
"Dylan, I really appreciate all this. I don't know what to say."
"Good." He stuck the thermometer in her mouth. "Then you can be quiet."
Unwilling to start another battle she'd lose, Abby sat back and waited until he drew the thermometer out again. "It's down, right?"
"Up two-tenths," he corrected, entirely too cheerfully for her taste, and handed her the aspirin.
"The boys were counting on that movie tomorrow."
"They'll survive." After replacing the thermometer, he started to leave her. Abby grabbed his hand impulsively.
"Dylan, I'm not trying to be a bad patient, but I swear I'll go crazy if I spend another minute alone in this bed."
He cocked his head. "Is that an invitation?"
"What? Oh, no." She snatched her hand back. "I didn't mean that. I only meant—"
"I get the picture." Bending over, he wrapped the spread around her and lifted her into his arms.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting you out of bed. I'll take you down, plop you in front of the TV. Odds are you'll be dead to the world inside of an hour."
"I've already slept all day." This time she could allow herself to enjoy, to appreciate, the sensation of being held in strong arms, of being carried as though she were fragile. For tonight, just for tonight, she could pretend there was someone to stand by her, to stand with her. Fairy tales, Abby warned herself, and stopped before she could lay her head on his shoulder.
"I appreciate you watching the children like this. I don't want to impose, though. I can call a neighbor."
"Forget it." He said it lightly, not wanting to admit he'd enjoyed the afternoon. "I can handle them. I worked my way through college as a bouncer."
"That kind of experience certainly helps," she murmured. "Dylan, did Chris get hurt when Ben pushed him down?"
"I don't know what you're talking about"
"You certainly do."
"Did Chris look hurt to you?"
"No, but—"
"Then you wouldn't want me to be a stool pigeon, would you?"
She sent him a mild look as he settled her down on the living room couch. "Men always stick together, don't they?"
Without answering, he switched on the set. He'd needed to set her down quickly, to break contact. She'd seemed so sweet, so small, so frail in his arms. A man made his biggest mistakes when he was sucked in by fragility.
"If you need anything, we'll be in the kitchen. Men stuff, you know?"
"Dylan—"
"Look, if you thank me again I'm going to belt you." Instead he bent down, took her face in his hands and kissed her, hard. "Don't
"It seems Dylan says a lot," she murmured, then reached out to touch Ben's cheek. "We'll have to see. How was school?"
"It was pretty good. A bird got into the classroom during math and Mrs. Lieter chased it around. It kept crashing into the windows."
"Pretty exciting."
"Yeah, but then she opened one of the windows and got a broom."
"Tricia fell on the playground and got a big bump on her head." Chris leaned over to fuss with the thin gold chain his mother wore, which had fascinated him since childhood. "She cried for a long time. I fell down and didn't cry at all. Well, not very much," he corrected meticulously. "Dylan was going to put me in the washing machine."
Abby stopped running a hand over Chris's hair. "I beg your pardon?"
"Well, there was all this mud and stuff and—" Dylan interrupted before Chris's storytelling got his brother in deep water. "A little accident, it's still pretty slippery outside."
As Abby looked on, Ben tilted his head and sent Dylan a quick sidelong look. A mixture of guilt and gratitude. "I see." At least she thought she did. She was also wise enough not to pursue it. "This is a great dinner, you guys, but I don't think I can eat any more right now."
Dylan took the remaining juice off the tray and set it on the nightstand. "Why don't you two take the tray down? I'll be along in a minute."
As soon as they'd gone, Dylan picked up the thermometer.
"Dylan, I really appreciate all this. I don't know what to say."
"Good." He stuck the thermometer in her mouth. "Then you can be quiet."
Unwilling to start another battle she'd lose, Abby sat back and waited until he drew the thermometer out again. "It's down, right?"
"Up two-tenths," he corrected, entirely too cheerfully for her taste, and handed her the aspirin.
"The boys were counting on that movie tomorrow."
"They'll survive." After replacing the thermometer, he started to leave her. Abby grabbed his hand impulsively.
"Dylan, I'm not trying to be a bad patient, but I swear I'll go crazy if I spend another minute alone in this bed."
He cocked his head. "Is that an invitation?"
"What? Oh, no." She snatched her hand back. "I didn't mean that. I only meant—"
"I get the picture." Bending over, he wrapped the spread around her and lifted her into his arms.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting you out of bed. I'll take you down, plop you in front of the TV. Odds are you'll be dead to the world inside of an hour."
"I've already slept all day." This time she could allow herself to enjoy, to appreciate, the sensation of being held in strong arms, of being carried as though she were fragile. For tonight, just for tonight, she could pretend there was someone to stand by her, to stand with her. Fairy tales, Abby warned herself, and stopped before she could lay her head on his shoulder.
"I appreciate you watching the children like this. I don't want to impose, though. I can call a neighbor."
"Forget it." He said it lightly, not wanting to admit he'd enjoyed the afternoon. "I can handle them. I worked my way through college as a bouncer."
"That kind of experience certainly helps," she murmured. "Dylan, did Chris get hurt when Ben pushed him down?"
"I don't know what you're talking about"
"You certainly do."
"Did Chris look hurt to you?"
"No, but—"
"Then you wouldn't want me to be a stool pigeon, would you?"
She sent him a mild look as he settled her down on the living room couch. "Men always stick together, don't they?"
Without answering, he switched on the set. He'd needed to set her down quickly, to break contact. She'd seemed so sweet, so small, so frail in his arms. A man made his biggest mistakes when he was sucked in by fragility.
"If you need anything, we'll be in the kitchen. Men stuff, you know?"
"Dylan—"
"Look, if you thank me again I'm going to belt you." Instead he bent down, took her face in his hands and kissed her, hard. "Don't
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