Chapter Text
Part 1 – Rainy Sunday
Rain pattered steadily against the kitchen windows, creating a soft rhythm that had been playing since sometime before dawn. The maple trees in the backyard had nearly finished turning for the season, their fiery reds and brilliant oranges now scattered across the lawn in a damp blanket of leaves. Every few minutes a gust of chilly October wind rattled the branches, sending another shower of leaves tumbling to the ground.
Normally, Hannah loved mornings like this.
She would have lit a pumpkin-spice candle, made pancakes, turned on quiet music, and watched the rain with a warm mug of coffee in her hands.
Instead, she was standing barefoot in the kitchen at six-thirty in the morning, stirring a mug of peppermint tea with one hand while clutching a digital thermometer in the other.
The house was unusually quiet.
Too quiet.
Upstairs, seven-year-old twins Gigi and Wyatt were still asleep after a miserable two days.
It had started Friday afternoon.
The school nurse had called just after lunch.
“Gigi has been sick to her stomach,” she’d explained apologetically. “And Wyatt started feeling nauseous about twenty minutes later.”
By the time Hannah had picked them up, both children were pale, exhausted, and curled together in the backseat instead of chatting excitedly about their school day like they usually did.
The stomach bug had taken over quickly.
Friday night had been long.
Saturday had been even longer.
Now it was Sunday morning, and while neither twin had been sick overnight, neither one had much energy either.
Hannah glanced toward the staircase.
She hoped today would be the turning point.
Behind her came the familiar sound of footsteps.
Garrett wandered into the kitchen wearing gray sweatpants and a faded Boston Bruins hoodie, his hair sticking up in every direction.
He looked like he hadn’t slept much.
Which, Hannah knew, he hadn’t.
“You’ve been up long?” he asked quietly.
“About half an hour.”
He walked over and wrapped his arms gently around her waist.
“How are they?”
“So far…”
She smiled cautiously.
“So good.”
“No one got sick?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Garrett let out a relieved breath.
“I’ll take that as progress.”
Hannah leaned back against him.
“I’m cautiously optimistic.”
He kissed the top of her head.
“I like cautiously optimistic.”
Although Garrett played for the Boston Bruins, Sundays like this were rare.
Normally, even on weekends, hockey dictated his schedule.
Morning skates.
Travel.
Games.
Recovery sessions.
Team meetings.
There always seemed to be somewhere he had to be.
But today happened to be an off-day.
No practice.
No travel.
No game.
Nowhere he needed to go.
Which meant exactly where he wanted to be was home.
“I’m really glad you’re here,” Hannah admitted.
He squeezed her gently.
“There isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be.”
She smiled.
“I know.”
He glanced toward the kettle.
“Coffee?”
“I already made yours.”
“You are amazing.”
“I know.”
He laughed.
“I walked right into that one.”
She handed him his favorite mug.
“You absolutely did.”
—
At seven-fifteen, soft footsteps echoed from upstairs.
Both parents looked toward the hallway.
A moment later, Wyatt appeared first.
His dark curls hair was flattened on one side from sleep.
He was wrapped tightly in his dinosaur blanket despite wearing pajamas underneath.
He looked tired.
Very tired.
“Morning, buddy,” Garrett said softly.
Wyatt offered a small smile.
“Morning.”
“How’s your tummy?”
Wyatt considered the question carefully.
“It feels… weird.”
“Still hurting?”
“A little.”
Garrett crouched beside him.
“Any throwing up?”
Wyatt shook his head.
“No.”
“That’s good.”
“I don’t want to.”
“I know.”
Garrett rubbed his back reassuringly.
“You’ve done the hard part.”
Before anyone could say another word, another sleepy voice floated down the stairs.
“Wyatt…”
Gigi appeared clutching her favorite stuffed bunny beneath one arm.
Unlike her brother, she wasn’t wrapped in a blanket.
Instead, she wore one of Garrett’s oversized Bruins T-shirts over her pajama shorts.
It hung nearly to her knees.
Hannah smiled despite herself.
“You stole Daddy’s shirt again.”
“It smells like him.”
Garrett pretended to gasp.
“I’ve been robbed.”
Gigi managed a tiny grin.
“You have lots.”
“I do.”
“But that’s my lucky hoodie shirt.”
“I need it.”
He walked over and scooped her carefully into his arms.
“Then it’s yours for today.”
She rested her head against his shoulder immediately.
Normally, Gigi was full of endless energy.
Always talking.
Always moving.
Always asking questions.
Seeing her so quiet tugged at both parents’ hearts.
“Still not feeling great?” Hannah asked.
“My tummy hurts.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
“I don’t like this bug.”
“Neither do we.”
—
Breakfast wasn’t really breakfast.
Instead of pancakes or cereal, Hannah laid out dry toast, plain crackers, bananas, applesauce, and tiny glasses of water.
Gigi wrinkled her nose.
“No waffles?”
Garrett smiled sympathetically.
“Not today.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“If your tummy keeps feeling better?”
She nodded hopefully.
“Tomorrow.”
Wyatt climbed onto his chair.
“I just want toast.”
“Toast it is.”
The four of them sat quietly together.
Normally Sunday breakfasts were noisy.
The twins usually argued over cereal prizes or whose turn it was to pick cartoons afterward.
This morning, there was only the gentle sound of rain tapping against the windows.
Wyatt nibbled cautiously on half a piece of toast.
Gigi managed three bites of banana before setting it down.
Hannah resisted the urge to encourage them to eat more.
She knew better.
Small bites.
Slowly.
That was enough.
Garrett caught her eye across the table.
She knew exactly what he was thinking.
They’re eating.
That’s a win.
—
An hour later, the living room had transformed into a recovery headquarters.
Extra blankets.
Pillows.
Buckets nearby, just in case.
Thermometers.
Children’s electrolyte drinks.
Coloring books.
Favorite stuffed animals.
The fireplace glowed softly, taking the chill out of the rainy morning.
Outside, rain continued falling steadily.
Inside, everyone stayed tucked beneath blankets.
Wyatt sat cross-legged on the rug, slowly working on a dinosaur puzzle.
His concentration never wavered.
Even sick, he approached puzzles like important missions.
Across the sofa, Gigi lay curled against Garrett’s side watching an animated movie.
Every so often she absentmindedly played with the strings of his hoodie.
Garrett brushed her hair away from her forehead.
“You comfortable?”
“Mhm.”
“Need anything?”
She thought.
“…Another blanket?”
“You got it.”
He tucked another fleece blanket around her until only her face peeked out.
“There.”
“I’m a burrito.”
“The cutest burrito.”
“No,” Wyatt corrected without looking up from his puzzle.
“She’s a blanket mountain.”
Gigi giggled quietly.
“I like burrito better.”
Hannah smiled from the armchair.
“There can be blanket burritos.”
Wyatt finally looked up.
“I guess.”
—
Around eleven o’clock, Garrett disappeared into the kitchen.
Hannah followed him.
“They seem a little brighter.”
“They do.”
He opened the refrigerator.
“I’m thinking chicken broth.”
“Good idea.”
He began heating it on the stove.
“You know,” Hannah said, leaning against the counter, “I was nervous about this weekend.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew you’d finally have an off-day.”
He looked over.
“And?”
“I wanted it to be fun.”
“So did I.”
“I thought we’d carve pumpkins.”
“We still will.”
“I wanted to take them to the apple orchard.”
“We’ll go next weekend.”
“I just hate that they’re spending your day off sick.”
Garrett walked over, taking both her hands.
“Hannah.”
She looked up.
“My favorite place to spend an off-day isn’t an apple orchard.”
“It isn’t?”
He smiled warmly.
“It’s wherever the three of you are.”
She laughed softly.
“Even when we’re surrounded by buckets?”
“Especially then.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Really?”
“Well…”
He grinned.
“I’d prefer fewer buckets.”
She laughed, the sound filling the quiet kitchen.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
A voice echoed from the living room.
“Mom?”
Hannah immediately straightened.
“What is it, sweetheart?”
“My tummy feels funny.”
Garrett and Hannah exchanged a quick glance.
Without another word, they hurried back into the living room together, each instinctively knowing exactly what needed to be done, hoping that the small progress of the morning hadn’t just taken a step backward as another rainy autumn day of caring for their twins continued.