Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Chapter Twenty-One
Home. Seldom had Brandt been as glad to see a shift end, and as he let himself into the house, his body was already twitchy with anticipation, arms needing to hold Shane in the worst way. As it was, he’d probably come out to a few crew members today, touching him in front of everyone. Whatever. Nosy people could go fuck themselves because only the baby strapped to Shane’s front had stopped Brandt from tackle-hugging the guy.
But now, hopefully, he could hug him until some of this ridiculous adrenaline drained away. It had been hours and still his pulse raced every time his brain jumped back to that moment of sheer terror when his primary chute hadn’t opened. Years of jumping and never had his panic been that high.
“Shane?” he called softly, not wanting to wake the diva if she was sleeping. But that turned out to only be a hopeful dream as she was awake, in Shane’s arms in the kitchen, and red faced and angry. Shane himself was pale, mouth a thin line, and eyes tight. Brandt’s thoughts of what he needed himself fled in the face of such obvious misery. “Whoa. You look awful. What did the diva do to you?”
Groaning, Shane shifted the baby to his other arm. “She didn’t nap more than fifteen minutes at a stretch. She’s so fussy that she even got angry at her bottle.”
“She wouldn’t eat?” There was that adrenaline again, heart thumping. He might not have memorized the baby book like Shane, but even he knew that not eating was a bad sign.
“She will, but not quite like usual. She drinks a little, cries, then tries again.” Shane’s tone was as weary as his face, and Brandt plucked Jewel from his arms even as he continued, “Maybe I shouldn’t have taken her out. It was rather windy.”
“It was.” The wind conditions had undoubtedly played a role in his bad luck too. The emergency chute had deployed lower than a normal one and had been harder to control in the winds. He could still feel the tooth-rattling jolt of that landing. “But don’t beat yourself up about bringing her. I asked you to come.”
And now he had a fresh layer of guilt on top of that request. Bad enough Shane had had to witness his close call, but now Jewel might be sick. And that was on him way more than Shane. He was the dad, right? He should be able to keep her safe. Carrying the baby over to the couch, he sat down and laid her in front of him, trying to assess her for obvious signs of distress, similar to how he would a crew member. No injuries that he could see, and she wasn’t particularly congested or other hallmarks of illness.
“I was debating calling Cameron for advice when you came in.” Shane hovered nearby.
“Let me finish taking a look at Miss Fussy Pants first.” He checked her sleeper. Not too tight and no tag or other itchy part. Only thing that seemed off was her angry face, but she was also a little more flushed than usual. “Huh. Does she feel warm to you?”
“Maybe a little.” Shane reached down and felt her head. “Do we have digital thermometer?”
“I’ve got a first aid kit I keep in case I injure myself with power tools, but I’m not sure about whether it has a thermometer.” Picking the baby up, he headed for the main bathroom in the hall. Shane was close behind him, and he looked in the kit under the sink while Brandt bounced Jewel to try to keep her from fussing more.
“Nope.” Shane shook his head as he finished digging through the kit. “Nothing to take a temperature. Should I call Cameron?”
“Yeah. Use my phone. I saved her cell number in there.” Juggling the baby, he managed to get his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Shane. He paced with Jewel as Shane made the call, trying to take some deep breaths, keep the cool head he was known for. Little kids got sick. She’d be okay. Except, what if she wasn’t? What if he had to live with more of that helpless terror from earlier? Fuck. He hated things that were out of his control.
“Cameron says she’s too little for this to be teething,” Shane reported while still on the phone. “We’ve done most of what she’s suggesting—check for bruises or signs of injury, make sure she’s warm and dry and nothing is tight.”
“Yeah, we tried all that. And sounds like you were dealing with this all afternoon?” Brandt didn’t like having left Shane all alone with a potentially sick baby. The poor guy looked ragged, like he’d pulled a thirty-six-hour shift in the height of fire season.
“Yup. Cameron’s saying that if nothing is working that we might want to take her to the urgent care clinic so that we avoid a middle of the night ER visit. Could be a virus of some kind.”