Molly had just stepped into the bedroom when she heard it—the shift in Scarlett’s cry. Not tired. Not fussy. This was bad.
“Hey, hey—mama’s coming,” she murmured, crossing the narrow room in two quick strides.
The pack-and-play creaked as she bent over to scoop Scarlett up. “What’s wrong, baby—oh—oh no, no, no—”
Warm vomit poured down the front of her. Scarlett whimpered, coughed, and let out another weak cry as the second wave hit.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Molly whispered, hugging her close despite the mess. “Okay. It’s okay. You’re alright. Mama’s got you.”
Her voice stayed soft—gentle—but her body moved fast. She turned, carrying Scarlett back down the narrow hallway, already reaching for the bathroom light. “Jack?”
He was already up, halfway off the couch. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s throwi
