As with most moms, my shower was short and cold.

Between Allie’s bath, the laundry, and Rob’s shower, all the hot water was gone. Again.

Which didn’t normally bother me, except I was coated in dried puke, had to wash my hair, and it was approximately minus eight thousand degrees outside.

Okay, fine. I exaggerated.

But still.

I rushed the shower, hissing as the cold water streamed from my hair and down my back.

Rob came out of the closet just as I stepped out, shivering more violently than Allie had been an hour earlier. He wore a button-down shirt, tie, and slacks.

“You look nice,” I said, unable to ignore the fact that the shirt covered his neck. Should I pull it down and confront him?

“Meeting with the chief today.”

Darlington was too small for its own police force. Rob worked at the county sheriff’s office. The bigger force meant more resources for our little group of towns and better coverage.

“What about?” I asked as I wrapped a towel around my head.

“A case I’ve been working on.”

“What case?” I ran the towel up one leg, then the other. Rob’s eyes followed the movement.

“Can’t talk about it yet,” he said. I frowned, but before I could press his answer—we always discussed his cases, if not in specifics then at least in generals—he went on, “When was the last time you had something besides a salad?”

I straightened, pulling the towel around my breasts. “What do you mean?”

“You’re too thin, Miss.”

“What?”

He crossed over to me, pulling the towel open and splaying one hand over my side.

My heart skipped a beat. Calloused fingers. Rough skin against smooth. I forgot about the bruise on his neck, about the phone and suspicions. I wanted his hand to move.

Up or down. I almost didn’t care.

I needed him to touch me.

His head dropped next to mine, hot breath on my neck, my ear. “You need to eat more.”

It took a second for the words to process. I stiffened, leaned back.

Not that it mattered since Rob had already stepped away.

“This isn’t like college,” I said. “I am eating.”

He studied me for a long moment, dark eyes piercing, black hair slightly damp and hanging over his forehead.

I wanted to push the strands back, like I used to.

Instead, my throat tightened when he tugged the sides of my towel together, tucking the cotton sheet under each arm.

“Keep it that way,” he said.

“I like salads.” My tone was defensive, but then again so was his.

“Add some protein to them.”

Eyes burning, I turned away. “Check on Allie before you leave, she woke up puking but is back asleep on the couch. I’ll be down in a bit.”

I walked into the closet and closed the door, leaned back against it.

We used to leave doors open, no barriers between us.

And now . . .

I was glad the wood was there.

The house was quiet when I made my way downstairs, hair in a ponytail, jeans and blouse swapped for sweats and a T-shirt.

If Max was next on the plague patrol, I wanted to be prepared.

Rocco’s crate had been empty when I’d gotten out of the bathroom, so I hustled to the back door, in case Rob had taken him outside to go potty and forgotten to let him back in.

I flicked on the floodlights and saw the yard was empty.

Hmm.

The pup was usually great about staying nearby and out of trouble. He didn’t go to the bathroom in the house—at least not too often anymore—and there wasn’t any food out for him to snag off the counter. He also didn’t chew anything except shoes, and we’d taken to keeping those in our closets so—

My flats. I’d left them at the top of the stairs when I’d gone to Allie. I ran up the steps and groaned.

One was missing.

It was always the left shoe.

I snagged the right one and ran back to the kitchen. No Rocco. He wasn’t in the laundry or dining rooms either.

Which meant.

I walked into the living room and saw him, curled up like the cute demon he was, right at Allie’s feet. Gnawing. On. My. Shoe.

When there were a half dozen chew toys scattered across the carpet.

I dropped my head back to look at the ceiling, counted to five, and snagged a rubber bone from the floor. His ears dropped when I approached, the sad, poor little puppy dog eyes in full force.

“I’m not letting you keep it,” I muttered. “I don’t care if it’s ruined.”

He whined and dropped his head to what had once been half of my favorite pair of flats. Brushed gray suede with turquoise bows.

“This,” I said, and swapped it for the bone, “is your chew toy. Not my shoes.”

Rocco whined again and gave me a pathetic look.

“I still love you.”

His tailed tapped against the couch.

“A little.”

He grumbled but buried his nose into the blankets and closed his eyes.

Shaking my head, I went into the kitchen and tossed the shoes in the trash. Then I called the sick line for school, leaving a message saying Allie would be out that day.

I moved the laundry around, pulled out my notebook of recipes, and had just opened my laptop when I heard a noise that made my gut churn.

Retching.

I ran into the living room, but Allie was still asleep.

Another trip up the stairs—this is why I was thin, freaking two-story houses—and found Max bent over the toilet.

I rubbed his back, gave him a cool cloth, and sat next to him.

He glanced up at me with bloodshot eyes. “I didn’t make it, Mom,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“In bed?”

A nod. “And the carpet.”

I closed my eyes. Not even six-thirty and I was exhausted.

“I’m sorry,” he said and his chin wobbled.

“Not your fault, buddy,” I told him. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.” I handed him a cup of water to swish his mouth. Luckily he hadn’t gotten puke on his clothes, since there wasn’t any hot water. “Can you wait for a bath?”

He nodded.

“Okay. Let’s get you settled downstairs.”

“Can you carry me?”

This is why I was thin, Rob, I thought as I carried sixty pounds of kid down to the living room, before running back up to fetch blankets and a pillow. Then repeating the trip to bring the dirties to the laundry room and switch everything around.

I’d barely managed to get Max’s carpet cleaned when I felt the swirling in my gut.

Oh God. I’d known I would fall eventually. I’d just hoped—

For what exactly? To be spared? For a miracle?

Those didn’t happen to me. Not any longer, at any rate.

Moisture pooled in my mouth, my stomach rumbled. Dropping the cloth I was holding, I sprinted to the bathroom and barely made it to the toilet before I heaved.

The plague was upon me.