If The Seas Catch Fire(70)

Dom’s reply came almost immediately:

I can be there any time. Afternoon?

He’d text Dom with an address and room later. For now, he headed home. On the way, he tapped his thumbs on the wheel. He needed to see Dom. Probably more than he had any right to, but after everything that had happened today, he needed to see him, and touch him, and make sure he really was still alive.

I’m not supposed to feel this way for you. I’m not supposed to feel anything for you.

What the hell is going on?



*



By the time Sergei checked into the motel, he didn’t feel any better. He’d showered. Shaved. Showered again. Scrubbed his skin until it was raw. As he left his apartment, his whole body ached—his f*cking bones ached—but he ignored it. After a swim like that, and some hypothermia to boot, everything was bound to hurt. Didn’t matter. He needed Dom, pain be damned.

After he’d collected the key, he headed up the hall. Not ten feet from his room, the floor suddenly jerked beneath him. He stumbled and smacked his palm against the wall to right himself.

What the hell?

The floor listed again. The walls tilted. He leaned against the wall and took a few breaths. Then a cautious step. The floor was still uneven, but he kept a hand on the wall and guided himself to his door.

The imbalance became dizziness. The dizziness became nausea. That wouldn’t bode well for the evening he needed with Dom, so he decided maybe some ginger ale would settle his stomach. The vending machine probably had some. It had likely been in there since the 1980s, but it was better than nothing.

Sergei pulled out his wallet to see if he had any ones. As he did, the simple motion of reaching into his pocket sent a dull ache through his shoulder. Deep inside the joint. In his bones. As he leaned down to get his soda out of the machine, a similar ache radiated from his hip. And his knee.

That’s not muscle pain. That’s not fatigue.

Sergei gulped.

That’s not good.

All the way back to his room, he tried to tell himself it was, in fact, muscle fatigue. After all, he hadn’t been diving in a long time, and it was taxing for muscles he didn’t use like this very often. Even more so when he’d had to fight the cold.

Except it wasn’t a tired muscle. Nor was the ache steadily deepening in his hips.

Oh shit. It was only going to get worse, too.

It was like the flu coming on, only with a f*cked up stomach on top of it. The flu would have been welcome if it meant he didn’t have the goddamned bends. If that’s what this was, then things could get ugly fast.

No. It wasn’t that bad. He hadn’t been under for that long.

But he’d gone deeper than he should’ve. And he’d been cold. And he’d swum hard. And then he’d ascended too fast. Way too fast.

Sergei’s heart sped up as he sat on the foot of the bed. Fuck…

His phone buzzed. Struggling to focus his eyes, he read the message:

Which room?

Sergei chewed his lip. He wouldn’t be able to fake his way out of this. Dom was going to see him this way whether he liked it or not. Sex? Well, it wouldn’t be rough or acrobatic tonight.

He sent back the room number, and then popped the tab on his soda and took a deep swallow. It didn’t help his stomach much. Maybe it just needed more time to settle in. It wasn’t an instant remedy. Right?

A sharp knock at the door startled him, as if he hadn’t known Dom was coming.

Grimacing, he stood. Fuck, why do I feel like an old man?

You know exactly what it is.

No. It’s not. I do not have the f*cking bends.

He shuffled across the floor, keeping his arms out for balance, and opened the door.

Dom met his gaze. His eyes were wide, his face pale, as if he’d seen something horrific. Because he had. God, they both had. And Sergei couldn’t tell him.

I can’t tell you I was there. I can’t tell you I’m shaking over it too.

He stepped aside to let Dom in, but the floor picked just that moment to shift beneath his feet.

Dom caught him before he even knew he was going down. “Holy shit. Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m…” Not. Not at all. This is bad. “I need to sit.”

“I think you need to lie down, actually.”

Dom guided him to the bed. That helped. Being flat on his back, without worrying about staying upright—it definitely helped.

But the ache didn’t quit. It was getting worse.

“What’s wrong?” Dom asked.

Sergei sighed. There was no point in denying it. Not to himself or Dom. He wiped an unsteady hand over his face. “I went in the water today. Scuba diving with some buddies, down by the crescent. I think this might be—”

Dom flew to his feet. “I’m calling a doctor.”

“No!” Sergei sat up, and immediately regretted it. The world shifted out from under him again but thank God, strong arms stopped him before he tumbled off the bed.

Dom eased him back down to the mattress. “Sergei, you need to see a doctor.”

You have no idea.

“No.” Sergei swallowed. “N-not a hospital.”

Their eyes locked. Dom’s seem filled with a million unspoken questions.

Sergei swept his tongue across his dry lips. “I heard… some shit happened out there today. And the hospital here, they’re all in Mafia pockets. If anybody’s looking for a diver…”