57
Bella wakes me up in the middle of the night with a cool hand on the back of my neck. I jump up, ready to fight whatever it is. "Rabbit's fever is back," she whispers in a panic.
I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes, groaning because this isn't the first time this has happened this week. "Did she take more Tylenol?"
"Yeah, she was in the kitchen taking it when I found her," she tells me and traps her bottom lip between her teeth, something she does when she's nervous. "She yelled at me and told me to get out of her face."
I sigh. "Bella. She's going to be fine. She's old enough to take care of herself and ask for help when she needs it."
Bella shakes her head. "I think I should take her to an urgent care spot. Maybe they can give her a shot or an IV to help break—"
"Bella." I laugh, and she glares.
"I'm worried!"
"I know you are, sweetheart." I grab her hand and give it a squeeze. "It's a bug that's going through their school, and it'll pass in a couple days."
She frowns. "Ali hasn't gotten it."
I roll my eyes. "Alice rarely gets sick. It's probably because she's so stubborn."
Angela came home early from school two days ago, coughing and sneezing up a storm, and Bella's momma bear's instincts kicked in. She's been hovering and making soups from scratch and calling me at work, panicking over Angela's health. It's driving us all insane.
"I read the school's newsletter, Edward," she stresses, her butterscotch eyes glowing in the moonlight streaming in from the window. "It's only lasted two or three days for most kids, and it's been three, and her fever is back. We need—"
"We need to let her come to us if she thinks she needs to go to the doctor. She's a smart girl, and she'll know if something is wrong." I yawn.
Bella isn't convinced, and she winces when we hear Angela's cough coming from her bedroom.
"I'm going to go get her some ginger ale," she mutters.
"Bella." I call before she can leave.
She stops and turns, hand on her hip and a stern look on her face. "Yes?"
"Thank you for caring so much." Her face softens. "It really means a lot to me."
With a sad smile, she leaves me, and I try to go back asleep.