Page 112 of Rogue Riders Duet

No such luck.

By the time I step out, my skin is clammy, my teeth are chattering, and the stabbing pain in my hip has invited a few new friends to the party, including my lower back and the lower left quadrant of my entire goddamn life. It’s like my body is trying to stage a mutiny one vertebra at a time.

I mechanically dry off and go through the motions of putting on boxers, socks rolled and stuffed where they need to be, and the binder cinched tight. I pull on a clean hoodie and the softest pair of sweatpants I own. They hang low on my hips, which helps, but also makes me feel weirdly exposed.

Pushing open the bathroom door, I step out with a pained groan.

“You all right? You’re all… white.”

I squint at Dane, trying to work out if I heard that right. “Rich, coming from you.”

He looks like a ghost who lost a fight against germs. He’s still coughing and sniffling, but sitting up now, which is an improvement from the human pile of blankets he was yesterday. His hair is a mess, eyes red-rimmed and bleary.

“I’m worried.”

I roll my eyes and brush past him toward the kitchenette, every step a battle. “Yeah, I know. You’re worried all the fucking time.”

Another stab of pain spears through my lower abdomen, and I grab the counter for support, holding my breath until it passes.

Fuck, this is new, and it’s not good.

It’s not the familiar throb but a twisting, grinding pull that radiates heat down through my thighs and up my spine until my vision pulses at the edges.

“Alaina,” Dane says again, but softer now, and somehow that’s worse.

“I’m fine, okay?” My voice is thin, tight, and clearly not fine.

“I can’t hear it anymore. ‘I’m fine. I’m fine.’ You’re not.”

He’s right, but if I say it out loud, if I admit it, then I can’t keep pushing through and pretending the plan is still working, that I’m still working.

So I squeeze my eyes shut, keeping my back to him, trying to hold myself together with sheer force of will.

Another slice of pain hits, squeezing until I’m dizzy. I double over slightly, pressing my palm against my abdomen, biting down on the inside of my cheek so hard I taste copper.

What the hell is this?

Appendicitis?

Every inch of me is fire, pressure, and nausea, and through it all, I hear Dane’s bunk creak as he starts to rise, coughing hard again.

“Don’t. Just… don’t get up. I said I’m fine.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and I know he’s watching me, probably seeing every tremor and twitch I can’t hide. I try to straighten up, but another jolt of pain knifes through me, and I let out an involuntary gasp, quiet, but not quiet enough.

“Alaina.” Dane’s voice is full of that big-brother panic I can’t handle right now.

But I still don’t turn around. If he sees my face, he’ll see everything. “I’m gonna go to Piper, okay? Maybe she can help.”

A huff followed by, “Fine.” Just that. One word bitten off.

We haven’t talked about the fight or the fact that I didn’t sleep here the other night. I didn’t even come close to spilling that I kissed Finn, snuggled with Luc, or that I’m falling apart in every direction. Maybe he’s just happy I came back and wants to pretend the rest doesn’t exist for another week or two, until he can hold his own in an emotional fight against me.

Not that I’m in any state to have said fight either.

Fuck.

I head out without another word because if I stay, I might break. If I break, I don’t get to race.