I was about to do just that when the door was pulled open, and I was face-to-face with a very angry MeeMee.
“’Bout time you got your ass back here,” she whisper hissed at me, sticking her leg out to stop Dobby trying to squeeze through a gap his butt would never fit through. “You here to upset my grandbaby even more?”
“Never.” I tried to convey how serious I was through that one word to her. I wouldn’t ever upset her again, not if I could help it.
“Oy, MeeMee,” a deep male voice with a British accent said behind her. “Can you make meatloaf for dinner? The one with the eggs in it and no ketchup on top. I had it at a diner the other day, and I swear they almost ruined it for me for life. Then I thought, MeeMee makes it properly, she’ll fix you right—” the voice stopped talking at the same time a tall guy with dark hair appeared behind me, his expression changing instantly into a scowl. “Who the fuck is this?”
“Uh oh,” Marcus whispered behind me, getting the guy’s attention on him.
He turned to look behind him, then back at Marcus, before doing it all again. “How’s that possible?”
“My grandson’s not bright, which makes me worry about the fact he’s around buttons that can make missiles go flying into the sky,” MeeMee chuckled, then turned around to face who I now knew was Sadie’s brother, Craig. “They’re twins. Obviously, identical ones, unless you look close enough.”
Then, she opened the door wider and motioned with her hand for us to come in, pushing Craig back a bit as she did it. Of course I wanted to get to Sadie, but I also didn’t want to be rude to her brother.
“Craig, I’m Elijah,” I told him, holding my hand out for him to shake. “This is Marcus, Jackson’s twin.”
“Cray-guh,” he said, shaking my hand slowly.
“Sorry?”
“British people pronounce it Cray-guh, not Creg like they do here. It’s the same reason that the James Bond actor’s called Daniel Cray-guh and not Daniel Creg,” he explained, looking sheepish about it.
Looking at Marcus to see if he’d known this nugget of random information, I was relieved when he shook his head to say he hadn’t.
“Sorry, man. I get people mispronouncing my name all the time, too, so I get how irritating it can be. I’ll make a mental note of that.”
I wasn’t being pedantic or sarcastic either, I hated it when people said my name wrong, so if that’s the way his was pronounced, I’d make sure I’d say it.
“Sadie used to get people called her Sah-day all the time, too. It happens, and it isn’t the end of the world, but still,” he shrugged, shaking Marcus’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Wait, aren’t you the guy—” he glared at me.
“I’m the asshole, yes.”
Taking a step back, he pointed toward the couch where I could see Jackson sitting, watching all of it. He wasn’t wearing his trademark grin, though. He looked pissed and worried.
“She’s over there.”
Moving over to where Craig was pointing, I expected to see her curled up in a ball, but instead, Sadie was lying out and had what looked like a flannel over her eyes, with her head on Jackson’s lap.
Some people might get pissed at their brother and misread the scene, but I knew both of them well, so anything hinky never crossed my mind. What it did do, though, was worry me.
Keeping my voice low, I scanned over the rest of her, seeing how pale she looked. “Is she okay?”
“She’s been puking for two days. We think it’s a stomach bug, so she’s been getting rehydration shit, but every time we think she’s past it, it starts all over again.”
Kneeling down beside her, I carefully picked her wrist up and took her pulse. It was slightly fast but not enough to ring alarm bells, but her skin looked even paler against the color of my fingers.
Looking up at MeeMee, I whispered, “What do we do?”
“Parker came to see her and told us what we should give her, so Jackson ran out and picked it up from the pharmacy along with Gatorade. We’ve been getting a couple of spoonful’s of chicken soup with those little stars in it into her, and she’s tolerating crackers, but that’s about it.”
Leaning over my shoulder, Marcus put his hand on her arm and made a noise. “Can someone get her a blanket? She feels cold.”
Chewing on his lower lip, Jackson shook his head. “Every time she gets hot, she feels sick. That’s why she’s got the damp towel over her eyes and forehead. We were hoping that if we kept her cool, she’d get some sleep without getting up to puke every five minutes.”
Copying what Marcus had done, I frowned at how cold she was. There was cool, and then there was cold. “She’s freezing, man. Get the blanket and keep the damp towel on her head to see if it evens each other out. You don’t want her getting too cold. How’s she doing with the fluids?”