He would be relieved when Tyler was moved back into a regular room with a spare bed. The doctor had told them that move could come as early as Monday, and that there was a good possibility Tyler could be home by the following Monday.
When his parents showed up at noon, both still looking a bit more grim than usual, but obviously rested, he drew Laurel aside. “You have got to get some sleep before you collapse. And how many of those antacids have you popped today? You need food—real food, not the quickest thing the cafeteria serves.”
He watched as Laurel dropped the hand with which she had been rubbing her forehead, an obvious indication of a headache. She’d been rubbing that same spot on and off ever since Wednesday. “I’m—”
“You’re not fine,” he interrupted before she could finish her stock reply. “You’re wiped out. Let me take you home for a few hours while Mom and Dad are here to sit with Tyler.”
Her face took on that mulish expression he recognized all too well. “No, I—”
“Laurel.” Jackson placed both his hands on her shoulders and looked directly into her eyes, ignoring the few other people sitting in the ICU waiting room. “Tyler is recovering even more quickly than the doctors expected. He enjoys being with my parents. He’s still sleeping most of the time, anyway. He’ll be okay without you for a couple of hours. You have to get some rest or you aren’t going to be in any shape to take care of him when he goes home next week.”
Her chin rose. “I can take care of my son.”
“I have every confidence in that. But you have to take care of yourself, too. Let me take you home to rest.”
She didn’t want to. Her reluctance to leave the hospital while Tyler was here was evident in every line of her posture. But maybe he had gotten through to her, at least a little, with his reminder that she would have to be in top condition to take care of a recuperating preschooler. “Well…”
“Great. Let’s go tell Mom and Dad we’re going. You know they’ll be perfectly happy to stay with Tyler for a while.”
“I can’t believe your dad is spending so much time here at the hospital,” Laurel murmured, allowing Jackson to practically tow her along behind him. “He’s usually too restless and too worried about spending time away from his shop.”
“I know,” Jackson admitted. “I think whatever it is that’s going on with Mom has Dad worried, to
o. He’s barely let her out of his sight for the past couple of days, and the way he hovers around her, you’d think she was the one who’s sick.”
Stopping suddenly, he looked at Laurel with a frown and a clutch in his chest. “You don’t think that’s it, do you? That Mom’s sick and she doesn’t want to tell us because of Tyler?”
She gave his question a moment’s thought, then shook her head. “I don’t think that’s the problem. It’s just a hunch, of course, but I think something else is bothering her. I’m sure she’ll tell you when she’s ready.”
Hoping she was right, he headed for the ICU again with Laurel close at his side.
It felt so strange entering her house, as if she had been gone much longer than the few days that had passed since Tyler’s diagnosis. Even though Jackson had been home every day to check on things and pick up fresh clothing, the house had a hollow, boarded-up feeling for Laurel. She figured it had to be because Tyler wasn’t there—and because she had left a part of herself at the hospital with him.
Her in-laws had been predictably happy to stay with Tyler. They had both asserted that they were worried about Laurel’s lack of sleep, and wanted to do whatever they could to help her. Familiar paranoia made Laurel suspect that Donna was actually happy to see her leave, giving her total access to Tyler without Laurel hovering nearby.
It was that ignoble thought, as much as the other signs of mental and physical exhaustion, that cemented Laurel’s decision to take a short break from the hospital. As Jackson had pointed out, she would be of no use to Tyler if she turned into a sleep-deprived wreck.
Moving in an almost robotic haze, she threw a load of clothes in the washer. She was watering a few house-plants when Jackson, who had been checking phone messages and feeding Tyler’s goldfish, caught up with her. “You’re swaying on your feet. Come on. You’re going to bed.”
Taking her hand, he led her to the master bedroom, rather than the room she usually slept in to be closer to Tyler. She was too tired to argue about where she would nap, and it didn’t really matter, anyway.
Kicking off her shoes and removing her hoodie, she sat on the right side of the king-sized bed. She briefly considered putting on a sleep shirt, but she was just too weary to make the effort. Raising a hand to the stiff muscles at the back of her neck, she rolled her shoulders in a futile attempt to ease the tension.
Jackson sat beside her. “Neck hurt?”
She dropped her hand. “Kind of stiff, from sleeping in chairs, I guess.”
Placing his right hand on her neck, he gave a light squeeze. “Your muscles are tied in knots.”
She arched reflexively into his gentle kneading. “Yes, I…mmm.”
His left hand joined the right. “Feel good?”
Her eyes were already closed. “Very.”
Rotating his thumbs against a particularly sore spot, he drew a sigh from her. “Lie down and I’ll give you one of my world-famous neck rubs.”
She hesitated for maybe a heartbeat before she swung her legs onto the bed and rolled onto her tummy. Jackson’s neck rubs might not have been literally “world-famous,” but he did have a special talent. She could hardly remember the last time she’d been on the receiving end. It had been quite a while since she and Jackson had spent any time alone together.