The Single Undead Moms Club (Half Moon Hollow series Book 4) (24 page)

Danny nodded. “Harley finished his drink before I did at lunch today. It’s nice to share.”

I groaned, dropping my head. “Of course.”

“Well, he should fall victim within a day or so. Lots of fluids for both of them,” Nola told me. “Rest, cartoons, bland soft food. And I will bring by some coloring books tomorrow describing how not to share germs.”

“Too late,” Danny grumbled.

By the time Wade arrived,
I could tell that he was already sliding toward infection himself. His symptoms mirrored his son’s to an eerie degree, down to the glassy blue eyes and flushed cheeks. He was congested, and I could feel the slight difference in his body temperature without even touching him. And he looked like he was about to fall over from exhaustion.

Harley and Danny were conked out together in Danny’s room. They’d spent most of the evening on the foldout couch in the living room, dosed up on Tylenol and ginger ale and enough
Dexter’s Laboratory
to drive me slightly insane. I impressed even myself by hauling both of them upstairs under my arms without breaking a sweat. All mothers should have vampire upper-body strength.

“You don’t look so good,” I told Wade, handing him a can of ginger ale from the fridge.

“I don’t get sick,” he protested, shrugging out of his denim work jacket. “I’ve got the Tucker constitution.”

“Well, I don’t know if you should take Harley home. He’s sick. Danny’s halfway to sick. You’re getting sick. And I can’t get sick. So if you stay here, when you inevitably fall under the germ spell, you’re not left without support.”

“I’m telling you, I don’t get sick,” Wade growled, sprawling back on the foldout couch.

“I’ll remind you of those words in twelve hours when you’re sniffling and whining for juice.” I propped his foot against my thigh and wiggled his work boot loose. His leg dropped like dead weight to the floor as I repeated the process with his other foot.

“I never whine. I’m a Tucker,” he muttered.

I was smiling, even as I rolled my eyes and pulled the sheets up to his chin. “Yep.” I kissed his warm forehead. “You’re a regular badass.”

It didn’t take twelve hours
for Wade to sniffle. It took three. But to his credit, he didn’t whine for juice. He politely requested a Budweiser.

“I don’t think beer is the answer,” I told him, dropping two Tylenols into his palm for his five
A.M.
dose.

“It’s the answer if the question is ‘What’s cold and delicious and makes ya forget that ya feel like your head’s about to explode?’ ”

“Well, it is hard to argue with that logic.”

“I really don’t feel good,” he mumbled, pulling me down to sit so he could drape his arms around my waist and bury his face against my thighs.

I giggled, cupping my hand around his bare neck. “I know.”

“I don’t want you to have to take care of me.”

“I know. And I appreciate that.”

“You’re a really sweet girl, and your hand feels nice on my neck.”

“Thanks. You’re a nice guy.”

He rolled onto his back and sort of sleepily leered up at me, through the dark gold hair that was tossed over his eyes. “And you’re so good to Harley. You treat him just like you treat Danny.”

I pushed the hair back from his face. “He’s easy to love. He’s a good boy. He’s a good friend to Danny.”

“And you’re funny and you’re smart and you call me on my bullshit.” Wade grinned loopily. “And ya have a pretty fantastic rack.”

“There it is,” I scoffed. “How much of that Coldaid stuff did you take?”

He held up two fingers to measure a little bit and then slowly expanded his fingers until they measured a shit ton. He pursed his lips. “You’re right. That’s not a very nice thing to say, is it?”

“Probably not.”

“OK, ya have the greatest rack in the history of racks.”

“Is that much better?”

“Is it the word ‘rack’ that bothers ya?” he asked, squinting at me.

I shook my head, still petting his hair like I was stroking a feverish cat. “I’m not sure.”

“Will ya ignore the ‘rack’ comment and lie down here with me?” he asked, lifting up the blanket. I looked down at his flushed, feverish face. I couldn’t catch his cold. There was no reason
not
to slide under those blankets. Shaking my head, I crawled onto the couch next to him. He rolled over, slinging a leg over mine and snuggling his face against my chest. “Oh, you feel nice and cool.” He sighed, combing his fingers through my hair. “And ya smell nice. You always smell nice, like those white flowers. The ones that only come out at night?”

“Jasmine?”

“Yeah, jasmine. It’s pretty, and you’re pretty.”

“Thanks.” I chuckled, patting his sweaty head. “I try.”

“And I really like you,” he mumbled into my side. “Like more than a friend or one of them ‘friends with benefits’ things. I like you a lot more than I’ve liked anybody in a long time.”

“That’s really nice to hear, Wade. Because I like you, too.”

“Gonna ask ya to be my girl.”

My eyebrows shot up. “What does that mean, exactly?” I asked.

No response from Wade.

I craned my neck to peer down at him. Wade’s eyes were closed, and his mouth was open in a light snore. “Of course.”

The boys ended up waking
for their own doses of Tylenol just before dawn. They crawled onto a pallet I made up on the floor near the foldout couch and went back to sleep. I stayed with them, watching them doze, until the sunlight crept over the horizon. I had to get down to my little basement hidey-hole. I knew I had to go. But I made up reasons to stick around, leaving bottles of water and juice boxes for everyone by the sofa and leaving little Post-it explanations about how to use our remotes.

I watched as Wade rolled over to the far side of the mattress, fumbling around blindly until he found Harley with his hand. He rubbed the space between Harley’s shoulder blades, in a gesture that seemed to comfort him as much as it did his son. And then, absently, he reached over and patted the top of Danny’s head.

I heard the jangle of keys at the front door and jumped up to let Kerrianne into the house. I pressed my fingers to my lips. She nodded and followed me into the living room.

“Welcome to the plague house,” I whispered. “Danny will not be going to school today. Also, you have a few new inmates.”

Wade’s head rose from the pillow, hair all askew and still squinting. “Hi, Kerrianne.”

“Wow. I knew one day I would stumble into your house and find Wade all stupid and disoriented, but I thought it would be under dirtier circumstances.”

“Easy,” I warned her.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of them,” Kerrianne told me. “I’ve got the day shift.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, yawning. “You’re no use to your family if you’re sick, too. This could be the beginning of one of those horrible outbreak movies that ends in a zombie apocalypse.”

Kerrianne scoffed. “Oh, I’m fine. Unlike Cliché McTough Guy here, I’m smart enough to use hand sanitizer and megadoses of vitamin C. I don’t rely on the Tucker constitution to defend me from germs.”

“Does everybody but me know about the Tucker constitution? Is it on the Internet or something?” I asked.

“Wade may have referred to it a few times. He’s a legend in his own mind.”

Wade shook his head. “That’s not very nice, Kerrianne.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t ogle you if you’re all snotty and gross. You need to think of my needs before you do something dumb like this,” she shot back.

“Oh, come on, you can still ogle him from the neck down,” I chimed in helpfully.

“I’m lyin’ right here, ya know,” Wade grumped.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” I crouched close to him, sitting on the chair near the couch and running my fingers along his cheek. He leaned into the caress like a cat and made a rumbling noise low in his throat. Kerrianne’s eyebrows rose at the sight, but she said nothing.

“Better. Not awesome. But better,” he said. “And I don’t remember a good portion of last night, so I’m hopin’ you’ll have the decency not to post any incriminatin’ videos on YouTube.”

“Just for my private collection, then. Got it.”

“Very funny,” he said, weakly batting at me with his hands. “How are the boys?”

“They’ve been napping for a while,” I said, nodding toward their motionless forms. “You should probably get them up for some juice and meds in an hour or so. But for now, just enjoy the peace and quiet. Danny’s a bit of a whiner when he doesn’t feel well.”

“Yeah, pretty soon Harley is going to want his own pajamas, his own toys, that sort of thing,” Wade said, patting his son’s head.

It struck me that Harley and Wade would be going home soon, maybe even tonight. And that made me sad. I liked having them here in the house. It felt more like a home when Danny had other humans around, other people who needed to eat and could go out during the day. I felt more secure with Wade there, and . . . it just felt
better.
I’d looked forward to rising for the evening, knowing that he and the boys would be waiting upstairs. And the fact that I was desperately attracted to Wade, well, that didn’t hurt.

“I’ll get some breakfast started,” Kerrianne said.

“My colds are cured by bacon!” Wade told her. “And more bacon!”

Kerrianne replied, “Oatmeal for everyone!”

“Bacon-flavored oatmeal?” Wade asked, his tone hopeful. He looked up at me, his eyes all pitiful. “She’s just making regular oatmeal.”

“I know, the very nerve,” I said, rubbing my hand on his back. “I miss bacon.”

“Maybe they could make bacon-flavored blood someday. I’m sorry you have to see me like this,” he said, waving his hand at his blotchy face.

“It’s not so bad,” I told him. “It’s actually kind of nice, you letting me see you all vulnerable and pathetic. Rob always went to his mom’s when he was sick and stayed for days at a time. Said her chicken soup was magic or something.”

“Rob was a dumbass. And was the ‘pathetic’ really necessary?”

“You’re begging for bacon-flavored oatmeal, so yes, it was.”

The boys stirred, almost simultaneously. Danny sat up, blinking blearily. Harley buried his face in his dad’s ribs and pulled the covers over his head. Seeing this, Danny rolled off the pallet and ambled around to my chair. He climbed into my lap and tucked his face into my neck.

“I hate everything,” Danny grumbled against my skin.

I laughed, hugging him tight. I could feel the weight of the sunrise, a wave of fatigue dragging me under. But I wanted to stay. I wanted more time with everybody. It seemed unfair, that I had to give up the daytime, that I missed out on so much of their lives. But I guessed this was the sacrifice I’d made for more time. A girl couldn’t ask for everything.

“Thanks for taking care of us all night, Miss Libby,” Harley said.

“There had to be some advantage to this vampire thing, like being able to stay up all night with you,” I said. “Well, that and the whole immunity to your gross germs.”

“The gloatin’ was definitely
not
necessary,” Wade warned.

“What are you going to do, sneeze on me?”

Wade made a face that was downright diabolical. “Might.”

“I already tried it,” Danny told him. “Didn’t work.”

“Dang it. New plan, boys. We lick random objects in the room and don’t tell her which ones are contaminated.” At this, the boys cheered. Well, they cheered as much as two sick boys could muster.

“And with that, I bid you good day,” I told them. “I’m going to bed.”

“Aw, come on, Mom!” Danny whined.

“I said good day!” I exclaimed, streaking toward the basement door. I took one last look at the boys, Danny hanging off the back of the chair while Wade and Harley sprawled on the couch. Sleep-rumpled and slightly snotty, they waved at me. I blew them a kiss and closed the door.

“I’m going to lick the remote!” I heard Danny exclaim.

I poked my head out of the basement doorway. “Don’t lick the remote!”

Boys were so weird.

Though you will go through an instinctual withdrawal from people you don’t completely trust, remember that your child needs contact and support from the living world, just as you need support from the vampire world. Also, there are only so many homes that can support a panic room.

—My Mommy Has Fangs: A Guide to Post-Vampiric Parenting

S
omeone was knocking on my basement door.

Why was someone knocking on my basement door?

I sat up slowly from the single bed I’d set up in my little underground sleeping compartment, slapping my hand around my nightstand, searching for my cell phone. It was 5:56
P.M.
The sun was barely down. Why the hell was someone trying to wake me up?

Danny?

Was Danny feeling worse? His fever had broken the night before, just after Harley’s, but it could have spiked again. I sprang up from bed, stumbling as the sheets tangled around my ankles. I didn’t need a light to maneuver toward the stairs. I’d kept the basement as simple as possible, just a bed and a nightstand and a framed photo of me and Danny, convincing myself that it wasn’t really my bedroom, just a place where I slept while the rest of the household lived aboveground in the potentially fatal sunlight. All of my clothes and shoes and toiletries were upstairs in the master bedroom. Unfortunately, that included my hairbrush, and my hair was falling over my face like something out of
The Ring
.