And that just brings tears to my eyes. I love that all of my brothers and sisters are also my dear friends. My best friends.
I don’t know what I would do without them.
“I’m doing very well,” I assure him immediately. “I’m happy. He makes me feel happy.”
“You look happy,” he says. “You look like you’re in love.”
“And I suppose I am.”
He nods, then frowns, as though he’s trying to find the words.
“Just say it.”
“It’s not that easy, Gabs.” He sits on a bench and leans his elbows on his jean-covered knees. He’s in a blue T-shirt, showing off the muscles in his arms.
Despite them being my brothers, I’m not stupid. I know they’re all good looking men. And I tend to be a bit protective of my Declan because his heart is softer than the others, and I’ll be damned if anyone is going to hurt him and live to tell about it.
“I love you, Dec.”
His head whips up, surprised.
“Where did that come from?”
“I just don’t get to see you often enough, and I miss you. I love you.”
“I love you too.” He rubs his fingers over his mouth, studying me. “Okay, so this is how I see it, as an outsider looking in. And keep in mind that I’m your brother too, so there’s that.”
“Oh boy.”
“You’re clearly in love with each other. The way he looks at you is how Daddy used to look at Mama.”
Oh. My heart goes all gooey and I bite my lip.
But then he keeps talking.
“And frankly, it worries me.”
I blink at him. “Wait. What?”
“It worries me, Gabs. What happens when he goes home?”
“I don’t know.”
My honest statement stops him cold. “But you’ve thought about it.”
“Of course I’ve thought about it. I know he’s not going to be here forever.”
“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.”