I stayed quiet for a moment, but then the mental image of him reading the text hit me, and I couldn’t hold back the laughter. Shanti, regardless of the pain, found it equally amusing and her little giggle filled in the spaces where mine was missing because I was desperately sucking in oxygen.
“Why are you laughing? I texted my boss—the freaking sheriff—six pink hearts. He’s going to think I’m one of those freaky slu-slush puppies who gets off on dirty secretary sh-shoes.”
“What are dirty secretary shoes?”
Neither of us looked at Shanti as I said quickly, “Ones where the secretary couldn’t avoid muddy puddles.”
“Curses,” Shanti sighed. “I hate it when that happens. It looks like poop.”
Not to be distracted from the trauma she’d just inflicted on herself, Naomi, who’d moved over to her drawer unit and was pulling out random pieces of clothing, asked over her shoulder, “What am I going to do? I’ve already texted Tabby to explain and apologize.”
Seeing that she’d just pulled out three pairs of panties and two tank tops, I winked at Shanti and walked over to help Naomi out. Once she had the appropriate amount of underwear, one tank top, and a pair of leggings, I nudged her toward the open bathroom door.
“Tabby will probably find it funny, so don’t worry about her. DB… well, he’ll understand once he hears from her how it happened. They’re both parents, so they know what you’re going through right now. I’ll call him and—”
“No,” she shrieked, dropping the clothing, and smacking her hand over my mouth, looking around us like someone was going to jump out. “You can’t call him. If you do, he’ll think I’m getting you to be my wingman.”
“Did you just slap Carter?” Shanti’s shocked voice squeaked from the bed.
Because I had my back to her and the sound of her aunt’s hand meeting my mouth had sounded loud—which hadn’t hurt at all—it made sense she’d think that.
Naomi looked at her hand wide-eyed. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you? I hurt you, didn’t I?”
Pulling her hand away so I could reply, I patted her on the top of the head. “You didn’t hurt me. All I was going to do was call him and explain I was taking you and Hubba Bubba Baby to the ER to get her arm looked at—”
“Thank you,” the little girl interrupted. “Aunt Naomi’s got that scary look on her face, and the doctor might run away if she slaps him, too.”
Naomi’s eyes narrowed as she leaned to the left to look around me. “I didn’t slap him, I put my hand over his mouth to stop him talking. There’s a difference. And why would I slap a doctor?”
“To stop him talking, too?”
I swear, this four-year-old was different from any other one in existence. I couldn’t say that with one hundred percent certainty, obviously, but I’d never heard of any acting like Shanti did. The delivery of those four words was done so dryly, but without an ounce of sarcasm, something even most stand-up comedians worked their whole careers to achieve, but that she’d already mastered effortlessly. I was screwed. I found her so amusing that if I ever had to reprimand her for anything, I’d end up laughing if she shot a line like that at me.
Naomi grabbed a handful of her hair and tugged, not knowing what to say back to that.
Leaning down so that my mouth was next to her ear, I whispered, “Go and get changed while I call DB. Once you’re done, I’ll do the same, and we can get her arm fixed. She’s stopped crying because she’s brave, but Shanti’s arm has to be killing her.”
Naomi’s eyes were shiny when I straightened back up, like she was holding back tears. “I’ve never broken a bone. Should we give her something for the pain before we go?”
“Where’s the Tylenol and Ibuprofen? I’ll give her some of both while you get dressed.”
Pulling me into the bathroom with her, she opened up the mirrored cabinet over the sink and got out two small white tubs. “She doesn’t like the liquid versions, so I get her the chewy pills.”
That information might seem unnecessary to some, but it was important all the same. I was the type of person who was always prepared. I kept painkillers in the medical kit in my truck just in case, and because I didn’t intend on not being in their lives, it made sense to pick up some of these to add to it.
Just as I got to the door, Naomi called my name. “Are you really calling in sick so you can take us to the ER?”
“Of course I am.”
She blew out a breath. “That’s- Thank you.”
I have no clue how she’d managed to navigate parenthood given the circumstances that she’d been thrust into it under, but I was here to take her back as often as I could in as many ways as I could. Sure, I’d helped out over the years, but I’d never been notified that Shanti needed medical attention until after the fact, and Naomi’s reaction to this showed how much it meant to her.