“I’m not letting it happen, I’m trying to talk to her and calm her down. I’ve tried everything I can think of—I haven’t been sitting here doing nothing! I just can’t figure out what’s wrong.” Tears brimmed her lower lids, making Kieran feel guilty for implying anything else. They dashed down her cheeks, as if racing, then fell onto the swell of her breasts.
Stepping toward her, he gently grabbed her upper arms and pulled her to his chest. She didn’t even try to resist, allowing herself to melt into his embrace. Wrapping both arms around her tightly, he rested his cheek on the top of her head.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, just loud enough for her to hear. He was frustrated having been in that environment for thirty seconds, so he couldn’t imagine what it was like for Fiona to be around it all day.
She nodded, but he couldn’t see her face. Her sniffling and shaking shoulders told him she was crying, which made him hold her even tighter. Her hands pressed against him as if she was afraid he’d let her go.
“I want you to take a minute to relax, okay?” He glanced around the room. The kitchen corner in the large living area was the least cluttered at the moment, so he gently pulled away from her and pointed in that direction. “Go make yourself something to drink, tea or whatever is relaxing. Let me go talk to Shea and see what I can find out.”
“Kieran, you’re so sweet to try to help, but she isn’t going to let you near her.”
“Won’t hurt to try, flower girl.” He kissed her forehead, and her eyes flickered up to his. He recognized the desire behind her exhausted gaze. Biting her lip gently, she nodded and walked toward the kitchen.
Taking a deep breath to try and forget the heated look in her eyes and focus on the task at hand, Kieran turned back toward the bedroom and reentered the dramatic situation. Shea was now seated on the floor against the dresser, still rocking back and forth, covering her ears with her hands. Her screaming wasn’t as shrill as before; it had grown more hoarse, as if she was tiring. He was surprised she had any voice left if she’d been like this for hours.
“Shea?”
She glanced up at him, seeming to look right past him but didn’t stop rocking.
“Are you okay, honey?”
Standing up suddenly, she grabbed the drawer handles to the dresser she was sitting in front of and yanked one hard. It slid right out, and the entire drawer fell to the floor with a loud bang, clothes scattering everywhere. She grabbed the next handle to do the same thing, but Kieran leapt forward, lifting her straight up off the ground and into his arms.
“Shea, what are you looking for? Calm down,” he tried to tell her as she screamed bloody murder in his arms, squirming and kicking in every direction.
Despite her objections, he realized her skin was like fire against his. Securing her with one arm, he snaked his free hand around and pressed it against her forehead as he carried her over to the bed and sat her on the edge.
It almost hurt to touch, her forehead was so hot.
“What happened?” Fiona asked, bursting through the door, a tea bag in one hand. “I heard a loud crashing sound.”
“Just the drawer. I’ll fix it in a minute,” he assured her before turning his attention back to the child. “Shea is really hot—is that normal?”
“Shea, are you sick?” Fiona asked, getting on her knees in front of her little sister, worry etched across her face. Fiona turned hyper-focused as she leaned forward and kissed Shea’s forehead, then her cheek, despite Shea’s objections. The little girl’s screaming died down into moaning and hiccups, and she rubbed the back of her own hand across her nose. “I think you’re right. She feels like she has a fever.”
Shea hiccupped again, calming down considerably, but still refused to make eye contact or respond to either of them.
Fiona took the opportunity to sit on the bed next to the child, now that Shea was calmer. “There’s some cold and fever medicine in the bathroom vanity, Kieran. Can you grab it?”
“Got it.”
Pulling open the medicine cabinet once he made his way into the bathroom, he found a thermometer on the top shelf and the medication bottle. Grabbing both items, he headed back to Shea.
“Should we take her temperature?” he asked Fiona, holding the thermometer up.
Fiona gave him an appreciative smile, tilting her head slightly to the side as she nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
He handed Fiona the thermometer as he started pouring a small amount of the liquid medication into a tiny measurement cup.
“Shea, this needs to go under your tongue, okay? Can you open up?” Fiona asked, but Shea shook her head no and started rocking again.