A Lie for a Lie (All In, #1)(62)

The middle-of-the-night feeding never came, though, so I didn’t relocate to the couch. Instead I woke up spooning Lainey, with my morning wood pressing into her back and one hand very close to cupping her boob. Thankfully it didn’t make things too awkward, which I’m taking as a good sign.

Regardless, the mounting sexual tension is the reason I’m on set number six of chest presses.

“What rock have you been hidin’ under the past couple o’ weeks? The only time I see you is practice or workouts.” Lance is my spotter.

“I’m a little busy these days,” I grunt through the eighth rep.

“When you gonna stop hiding yer tour guide?”

“I’m not hiding Lainey—I just don’t want to subject her to my shitstorm. And we’re kind of figuring out how we work together. The last time we went out, I got mobbed, and it freaked her out.”

“She can’t get used to it without exposure.” Lance racks the bar for me. “You can’t hide her from the world, and it doesn’t do her any good if you’re trying to protect her from the media. Rip the bandage off, Rook. Bring her to a practice—and when she’s ready, bring her and Kody to a game so she can meet the wives. She needs to know she’s not alone. Your team is your family.”

“She hates big crowds.”

“The boxes are safe. And Poppy and Sunny are like the Zen team—they’ll make her feel right at home.” He slaps me on the shoulder. “I’m hitting the sauna, and you should too, if you don’t want to be crying like yer baby later.”

He has a point. I’ve asked Lainey if she wants to come to practice pretty much every time we have one. And it would be great if she could attend before an actual game when it’s total mayhem. I decide I’ll bring it up again tonight, once Kody is in bed.

I fire off a message to see if Lainey wants to have lunch. Most of the time I’ll pick something up and bring it to the aquarium, but today I’m thinking we could try a café. Baby steps and all.

I don’t hear from her before I reach the aquarium, but that’s not all that surprising. She doesn’t respond to messages when she’s leading a tour or with the animals. I find out from Eden that she left work about an hour ago and that she was feverish, with the chills, feeling nauseous.

I try calling her again, but there’s still no response. “What about Kody?” I ask Eden.

“He’s still at day care, as far as I know. At least I hope he is. I don’t think Lainey’s in any state to take care of him right now. She really didn’t look good when she left.”

“I’m going to check on her. See what she needs.” I’m halfway across the lobby when I realize I don’t have a key, and if she’s not answering her phone, I can’t be sure she’s going to answer her door either.

I turn to find Eden dangling a key chain from her finger.

“Can I borrow those?”

“No. I thought I’d taunt you with them.” She shows me which one gets me into the building and the one for Lainey’s apartment.

I rush across the street and take the elevator to her floor. I knock first, so I don’t scare the crap out of her, but when she doesn’t answer after about thirty seconds, I use the key to let myself in. “Lainey?” I call out as I close the door and lock it behind me.

I slip the keys into my pocket; anxiety makes my heart beat faster as I walk down the hall. I peek in Kody’s room but keep going when I see it’s empty. I pass the open, unoccupied bathroom and head for Lainey’s bedroom. The comforter is turned down; there’s a bowl on the floor and a half-full glass of water on the nightstand.

“Lainey? You here?”

“RJ?” It’s more of a croak than my name, and it’s coming from the bathroom.

“Eden said you weren’t feeling well.”

“I’m okay. Just give me a minute.” That declaration is followed by a horrible retching sound, a splash, and the flush of the toilet.

I find her hugging the bowl, her cheek resting on the edge. She’s wearing a loose nightshirt, legs bare and mostly exposed. Her hair hangs in a haphazard braid down her back, flyaways poking out, strands stuck to her neck and forehead. Her normally tanned skin is pasty white, and a fine sheen of sweat covers her face and neck despite the fact that she’s covered in goose bumps.

“You don’t look okay.”

Her eyes are glassy and slow to track. “You shouldn’t see me like this. I look awful.”

I ignore her as I crouch down, and she tries to wave me away. I press the back of my hand to her forehead, then lean in and follow with my lips, like I remember my mom used to do.

She makes a little noise, sort of like a hum combined with a groan.

“You’re burning up. Do you have a thermometer around here?”

“There’s one in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom across from Kody’s room, but I’m fine. It’s just a bug. I need to sleep for a few hours.”

“I don’t know that sleeping wrapped around a toilet is a great option, Lainey.”

“The bath mat is pretty soft.” She shivers and looks over her shoulder at the floor.

“Let me help you back into the bed.”

“I can’t yet. The nausea is ge—” Her face pales further, eyes going wide, and then she pulls herself up, arms shaking, fingertips going white as she clutches the seat and heaves violently. She tries to tell me to leave, but she can barely get words out before she heaves again; this time nothing comes up. She flushes the toilet, but spasms continue to rack her for a good two minutes until she finally sags again, cheek resting on the seat.