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While Ethan spent five days complaining about conference coffee and delayed hotel elevators, Lauren had apparently been trapped at home caring for a sick toddler while being quietly judged inside her own kitchen.
He opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed a notepad.
“When was his last dose of acetaminophen?”
“Six fifteen.”
Ethan immediately created columns labeled:
Time. Temperature. Medicine. Fluids. Symptoms.
A tiny exhausted laugh escaped Lauren.
“You and your spreadsheets.”
“Spreadsheets save lives.”
That almost made her smile.
He checked Noah’s temperature again before settling onto the couch with him.
“Tell me everything,” Ethan said softly.
