Vern and Roe guided us to several potential hot spots, and I never once offered commentary. I didn’t care. I wanted to sleep. I wanted my bed. As hypocritical as it sounded, I wanted my mother.
In the end, we saw nothing more than brilliant lightning storms and daunting skies.
I stood in the rain for hours, barely participating. At the last stop, I didn’t get out of the car and dozed off and on while theothers did their thing. When the car door slammed, I opened my eyes and found Vern in the driver’s seat instead of Gale.
I roused and glared. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you back to the motel and putting your ass to bed.”
I blinked hazily out the windshield. “Where’s Gale?”
“He’s taking my spot in the bug. Fuck it’s hot in here. Why do you have the heat cranked?”
“I’m freezing. Vern, you can’t leave him. Gale hates being crowded.”
“Well, it was his idea.” Vern turned the heat down and reached over the middle console to touch my forehead before I could react. “Fuck. You’re burning up. Christ.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re sick.”
“Fuck you. I’m not fucking sick.”
“Uh-huh.” He put the car in gear.
Back at the motel, I slept for twelve hours and woke up worse. Everyone was packing up and heading home. The forecast had shifted, and better storms were popping up in Kansas and Arkansas over the following week, so the game plan was to spend a day or two recovering before hitting the road again.
I didn’t see Gale. His Jeep was gone by the time I woke, and I wandered listlessly until Vern put me in the car and fed me more Tylenol. He drove since I was too out of it and couldn’t keep my eyes open. I dozed for the first bit. Once the meds kicked in, I was more alert and texted Olivia, asking for Gale’s number. Since she was driving, I didn’t expect to hear back from her any time soon.
“What’s up with you and Gale?” Vern asked at one point.
“Huh?” I feigned ignorance, but my best friend knew me too well.
“Dude, every time Jazz opens his trap and says something about him, you get murderous. He isn’t a team member. What do you care? Maggie says—”
“What’s up with you and Maggie?” I retorted.
Vern stalled, wet his lips, and shrugged. “Is he gay? Are you two fucking?”
“Are you and Maggie fucking?”
He didn’t answer, so neither did I. We’d been best friends long enough to know each other’s truth.
I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep.
If Stella Devereaux obsessed over my health when I was well, she was downright manic when I was truly sick. Sadly, because I felt sorry for myself, I soaked up the attention.
She sat by my bedside, stroked my hair, and gave me Tylenol to keep the fever at bay. She fed me canned chicken noodle soup and crackers and swaddled me in blankets when I shivered. She had no need to spike my drinks or tamper with my food. I was a perfect and willing patient.
When she insisted on bathing me, however, I put my foot down. Stella didn’t see anything wrong with it, but it would be a cold day in hell when I submitted to that invasion. A man had limits.
I spent five days in bed and missed two chases in Arkansas. Charles called and warned me to pull my shit together as though being sick and out of commission was a choice. Vern checked in more than once, keeping me in the loop.
By day three, when the fever haze finally released me, I texted Gale to see how he was doing. He didn’t answer. I texted twicemore the following day but got no response. After witnessing a tornado and spending hours under the stars, I thought we were in a good place, but his absence and silence concerned me.
Had Jazz gotten at him?
Had the run gone badly?
