“Of course.” But hurry! “I was about to take her a glass of Sprite.”

“Good, she will need fluids. You’re doing everything right, Ax. I promise.”

“And I’ll leave the door unlocked. Just come in when you get here. We’ll be in my room.”

“I’m on my way. You’ve got this, Broxton,” she said firmly. Lord, I adore this woman.

“I’m hot, Daddy,” Carrie said pitifully from my bed as soon as I entered the bedroom.

“Here, let’s take your shirt off, baby girl.” I helped her to sit up and then pulled her damp shirt off over her head. Dammit, she was so freaking hot!

“Come sit on my lap and have a drink. Mommy is coming, okay?” She nodded her little head wearily as I pulled her into my lap and held the glass up for her to drink.

After getting a few sips of Sprite in her, I picked her up and walked around the room with her, rubbing her back softly as she lay her head on my bare shoulder and cried. Okay, I’ll admit, I silently cried with her because this was fucking killing me.

I heard the door open downstairs and swiped the tears from my eyes so Blaire wouldn’t see what a wimp I was. She swept into the room like a brilliant and gorgeous Mama Tornado. “Hi, baby,” she whispered as she took Carrie from me. “You’re not feeling too good, huh?”

“My throat hurts so bad. And my back. And everything,” she said, her bottom lip trembling.

“Care, can I put you on the bed so I can check you out?”

My little sweetheart held her arms out to me, and I took her, crawling on the bed and settling her between my legs. Blaire grabbed her bag and checked her over while Carrie sat quietly holding my index fingers in her chubby hands. I think that comforted me as much as it did her.

After taking her temperature and shooting a worried look at me, Blaire kissed Carrie and got a cool washcloth, laying it on her forehead. “You rest, baby doll. Daddy and I are going to get your medicine ready so you can feel better.”

“’Kay, Mommy.” Blaire picked up the pharmacy bag and signaled me with her eyes to follow her downstairs. I took Carrie’s glass so I could refill her drink.

“Fever was 103.1,” she said when we got to the kitchen. “I bought some medicine for you to keep here for her. And you can keep that thermometer, as well.”

“Wait. You’re going to let her come back here?”

She stared at me incredulously. “Of course, Axel. It’s not your fault she got sick.”

“Yes, it is. I didn’t have a hairdryer or a confuser thingy, so she had to run around with a wet head.”