Page 29 of Sobek’s Joy

“Daddy, Timothy threw up.”

“What?” Rudy’s brain scrambled to shift gears. “Where?”

“His bed. It’s gross. Jack says it smells like death.”

“Dramatic much?” But Rudy was already moving toward the door. He paused, glancing back at Sobek. “I…”

“Go. I’ll grab cleaning supplies.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I know.” Sobek was already heading for the kitchen. “I want to.”

Rudy wanted to say something meaningful, something about how much that meant, but Rose was tugging his hand, and Timothy was crying upstairs, and the moment was lost…again.

Timothy’s room did indeed smell like death. Jack stood in the doorway with his shirt pulled up over his nose, looking as though he was ready to be sick himself.

“I told you it was bad,” Rose announced proudly.

Sobek appeared with a bucket, spray cleaner, and fresh sheets like he’d conjured them from thin air. “Jack, take Rose downstairs. Rose, do not climb anything. I’ll know if you do.”

Both children fled without argument.

Timothy sat on the edge of his bed, looking miserable, scales flickering faintly on his arms. Rudy’s heart squeezed.

“Hey, buddy. Does your tummy hurt?”

Timothy nodded, eyes welling with tears.

“It’s okay. These things happen.” Rudy scooped him up carefully. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“I’ll handle this,” Sobek said, already stripping the bed with efficient movements.

“You really don’t…”

“Rudy.” Sobek met his eyes over the pile of soiled sheets. “Let me help.”

It would be so easy to argue. To insist he could handle it alone like he’d handled everything else for three years. But the look in Sobek’s eyes wasn’t pity. It was compassion.

“Okay.” Rudy adjusted Timothy’s weight on his hip. “Thank you.”

Sobek’s expression softened. “Always.”

Chapter Eleven

Sobek stared at the ceiling of his rental cabin, willing sleep to come. As a god, technically, he didn’t have to sleep like other people did, but sleeping helped pass the time before he could legitimately go back and visit Rudy and his family again. Unfortunately, it seemed troubled gods had the same issue sleeping as mortals did.

His crocodile side had been restless all evening, pacing beneath his skin like it wanted to break free. The bond with Rudy - still new, fragile, and definitely more a suggestion than a promise - thrummed through his chest. He could feel Rudy’s presence like a warm glow from half a mile away, and every time he closed his eyes, he could see the glow from the Fates, lighting Rudy up like a beacon for him to find. I found him, but I don’t know what I’m meant to do. He doesn’t know about us. He doesn’t even know about his paranormal children.

The children registered with him, too - a surprise but not an unwelcome one. In his mind’s eye, they formed three smaller lights clustered around Rudy’s brightness, all slightly dulled because they were asleep.

Except...Sobek sat up, frowning. Timothy’s light started going haywire. It flickered, then dimmed, and then flared with distress. As Sobek tried to “see,” he felt Tim’s pain and worse, the hatchling was terrified.

Sobek was moving before conscious thought kicked in. One moment he was in bed, the next, he was standing in Rudy’s living room, having translocated there directly.

“…not waking up, I don’t know what to do, please just…”

Rudy’s voice came from upstairs, and he was understandably panicked. Sobek took the stairs three at a time. Timothy’s bedroom door stood open. Rudy knelt beside the small bed, phone pressed to his ear, hand on Timothy’s forehead. The hatchling lay unconscious, skin flushed deep red, sweat soaking through his pajamas. Scales flickered across his arms and legs, appearing and disappearing in waves.