And when she smiled and left the kitchen, taking the water to Matty, Seb felt like he’d been released from some sort of invisible force field.

When he returned to the dining room, he was amazed to see Tyler with a flush creeping up from his collar. Serafine was talking to him, and it seemed he was a little flustered. He’d never seen his friend thrown so far off his game before.

Via returned, telling Seb that Matty was asking for him, and he was back in his son’s room in a flash. The lamplight was dim in the Cars-themed room; red sports cars smiled down from the wallpaper runner on every side. Seb glanced up and was relieved that Via had seen it mostly tidy. The drawers on Matty’s dresser were closed and the books on his shelves were mostly lined up. His stuffed animals and craft table were another story, but he was a kid. Seb couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Hey, buster. How are you feeling?” Seb crouched at the edge of Matty’s bed, adjusting the ancient Charlie Brown sheets that had been Seb’s as a kid. A wiggling lump under the covers by Matty’s feet told Seb exactly where Crabby had chosen to take a nap. He scratched at Crabby’s back through the blanket and watched as the misshapen lump obviously rolled onto his back, belly in the air, even under the covers.

Both Seb and Matty laughed, but Matty’s chuckle was subdued. “I don’t feel good, Daddy.”

“I know, buddy.” Seb scraped a hand across Matty’s forehead, feeling for a fever, even though he’d never had any idea what a fever really felt like. The kid had a naturally hot forehead anyway. But his hair and the collar of his pajamas weren’t sweaty, so he figured that was a good thing.

“I’m sleepy but I can’t sleep. My body won’t let me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I try to sleep but I keep shaking, and it wakes me up.”

“Yeah. Those are the chills from your fever.” Seb’s heart broke a little as he reached into the closet and pulled out another blanket to tuck around his son. When he turned back around, Matty had his hands tucked under his chin and a tear was leaking from the corner of his eye. Matty had always had teary eyes. Just like his daddy. But Seb knew, instinctively, that this was a real tear.

He crouched next to the bed and slung a heavy arm over his son, holding him close for a second. Matty’s familiar scent washed over him. His kid had always smelled like dinner rolls. Weird but true.

“What’s wrong?”

“I wish Grandma was here.”

“Grandma Sullivan?” Seb tried not to sound quite so astonished. Muriel was competent and confident and...harsh as hell. She was the last person on Earth that Seb would have wanted around while he was sick. She wasn’t nurturing in the least, and it surprised the heck out of him that Matty would want her right now.