“He needs his medicine,” I say, rushing over to check on Jack. “I already gave it to him,” Clay replies, stopping me in my tracks. “How much did you give him?” I ask, sounding panicked. “Exactly how much the dosage chart on the box told me to,” he replies calmly. “Relax, Eden. He’s fine.” When he says that, it’s not condescending. It’s encouraging.
