"Yeah. But Nora sounds off." I stare at my phone, willing her to text back and tell me the truth.
Thegame's at 2 p.m., and I play like a man possessed. Not my best hockey, but desperate hockey—trying to get it over with so I can get home. We lose four to two, and I'm already heading for the locker room before the final buzzer finishes echoing.
"Someone's in a hurry," Liam comments, watching me strip off my gear at record speed.
"Need to get home."
"Harper still sick?"
"Harper's better. Nora's not."
I shower in under three minutes, throw on clothes, and I'm on the team bus before half the guys are even off the ice. The flight back to Ridgeport feels like it takes years instead of ninety minutes, and I'm checking my phone constantly.
Me: Landing soon. How are you?
Nora: We're good. Harper's been perfect today.
Me: And you?
Nora: Fine. See you soon.
She's lying. I know she's lying. And the fact that she won't admit it makes me drive faster.
I pull into the driveway at 11 p.m., grab my bag, and practically run to the door.
The house is quiet when I walk in. I drop my bag and head straight upstairs, checking Harper's room first. She's sleeping peacefully in her crib, with no fever or distress, looking perfectly healthy.
Relief floods through me.
Then I hear a sound from downstairs. A groan, maybe, or a whimper.
I find Nora on the couch, curled under a blanket, and she looks terrible. Her face is pale except for the flush high onher cheeks, her hair is a mess, and she's shaking even though she's bundled up.
"Hey," she says weakly when she sees me. "You're home."
"Red." I'm already moving toward her, pressing my hand to her forehead. She's burning up. "You're sick."
"I'm fine."
"You have a fever. A high one." I check my phone for the time. "When did this start?"
"Last night. But it's just?—"
"The same bug Harper had." I sit on the coffee table in front of her. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"You had a game. I didn't want you to worry."
"I've been worried all day. You sounded off in your texts." I press my hand to her forehead again, confirming what I already know. "You're burning up, Red. Have you taken anything?"
"Some Tylenol earlier. I think."
"You think?"
She closes her eyes. "I'm really tired, Ty."
"Okay. Come on." I stand up, pulling the blanket off her. "You're going to bed."
"I can sleep here?—"