Pretty Little Thing (Central Valley U)

“Nah. I’m probably going to grab something to eat and go to bed. I’m exhausted.”

Her big, blue eyes cloud with guilt. “I hope you’re not getting sick…”

I wave her off. “I’m sure I’m fine. Just tired. It was a long day.”

“Well, at least let me feed you. I made Maverick’s favorite day-after-sick dinner.”

“Grilled cheese!” Maverick grabs my hand and tugs me toward the kitchen. “They’re the best. Mama uses magic to make ‘em extra tasty.”

“He calls it magic; I call it mayo.”

My face must show my apprehension, because Frankie laughs. Seriously though, what is it with this family adding mayo to sandwiches where it has no business being?

“Just try it. It’s the only way.”

As on the fence as I am over mayonnaise in my grilled cheese, I’m all for time with my two favorite people. “Alright, but if it’s gross—”

“I’ll make you one without it if you hate it. Promise.”

The three of us head into the kitchen. Frankie moves to the far side of the island, where all of her ingredients are out and waiting, while Mav and I each grab a stool.

“Did everything turn out okay at work?” she asks, turning on the front burner and then adding a pat of butter to the pan.

I sigh and prop my elbows on the counter, resting my head in my hands. “More or less. Ben was agitated with me, but he can take a big ass step and get over it.”

“Swear word,” Maverick mumbles, his attention split between our conversation and the piece of paper he’s coloring on.

“Sorry, bud.”

We lapse into a comfortable kind of silence, with Maverick drawing up a storm and Frankie flipping and frying out sandwiches. I know I should offer to help, but I’m so tired, I can barely keep my eyes open.

“Here you go,” Frankie says, and I jump in my seat.

“What? I’m up!” I look around the kitchen, shocked to see Maverick happily munching away on his grilled cheese.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She nudges my food closer to me, and then grabs her plate and plops down onto the stool beside me.

“Honestly?” I grab one half of the sandwich—it’s cut diagonally, which is the only acceptable way—and lift one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I feel horrible.”

She wipes her hands on her napkin and then presses one to my forehead. “Oh, Orion, you’re burning up! Let me get the thermometer.”

I’m tempted to argue, but she’s already halfway down the hall.

I force myself to take a bite while I wait for her; much to my surprise, the mayo works.

Unfortunately, my tastebuds and stomach are not in agreement.

Fuck.

Slapping a hand over my mouth, I shove back from the bar and haul ass to the bathroom, dropping to my knees just in time to empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet.

“Orion…” Frankie’s voice filters through the partially open door. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I swipe the back of my hand over my mouth and flush. “I think so.”

“I, um, have the thermometer, whenever you’re ready.”

Pushing myself back up to my feet, I grunt out some kind of reply and then turn on the faucet, splashing my face with some water before brushing my teeth.

When I open the door, I’m shocked to find Frankie lingering right outside, worrying her lip between her teeth.

“I’m so sorry Maverick got you sick.”

“It’s fine, Frankie.” Obviously, I’d rather not feel like shit warmed over, but I’m not mad about it either. It’s a part of life with kids and I have a feeling this won’t be the last time Mav passes his germs my way.

“Stick it under your tongue,” she murmurs, pressing the on button and passing the thermometer my way.

“Yes, ma’am,” I mumble around it, causing her to grin.

Seconds later, it beeps, and she pulls it from my mouth. “One-oh-one. Mav definitely gave you his bug.”

“I’m sorry, O.” He peeks around the corner. “Do you still love me?”

“Always, bud. Always.”

His little shoulders slump with relief. “You gotta gets some rest. Right, Mama?”

She smiles at him. “That’s right.”

I brace myself on the doorframe. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”

Frankie takes a step closer to me and then stops. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“I’ll be okay,” I tell her, meaning it. It’s been a helluva long time since I’ve been sick, but I’ll make it.

“I mean it.” She’s got her mom face on, so I know she’s not playing around. “If you need anything, text, call, shout really loud—whatever works, and I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, Frankie. G’night.”

She blinks up at me with those big blue eyes of hers. “Don’t mention it.”

I slip back into my bedroom and collapse onto the unmade bed pulling the covers up to my chest.

For the longest time, thoughts of Frankie and her hauntingly familiar blue eyes keep me tossing and turning, until finally, my body gives out and sleep takes me.