Feeling dizzy, I dropped down onto the couch and waited for them to get dressed. Aubree was ready in less than two minutes. She came out of our bedroom, pulling her hair into a messy knot on top of her head then went down to the other bedroom. “Hurry the fuck up, and stop your bitching at each other. Ro is sick, and she doesn’t need to hear your shit today.”
Coming over to the couch, she offered me my phone. “You left this on the floor in our room.”
I took it but tossed it onto the coffee table, shaking my head.
“Guess you don’t want to call Sin and tell him you’re sick, then?”
Shooting her a glare, I shook my head again. No way was I calling him. He would probably think I was faking just to keep him home all weekend anyway.
Even if I wanted to be cuddled up against him with him rubbing my back.
“He’s really going to Vegas?” I swallowed painfully and nodded. “Fuck. He’s a douchebag, babe. But if he knew you were sick, he probably wouldn’t go.”
I lifted a hand, signaling for her to stop, and shook my head adamantly.
“Okay, it’s your choice. I won’t put my nose in it.”
The urgent care was overflowing with people when we walked in. Kids crying, people coughing so hard, it was a wonder they could actually breathe, some guy throwing up into the blue plastic baggie he’d been given. It was crazier than the ER, but at least I could afford—barely—this place.
It took forever, but I was finally given a strep test, which came back positive, and they wrote me a prescription for an antibiotic. There was a pharmacy across the road, and Aubree took it in to get filled while I tried to nap in the back seat of the car.
Three hours after leaving the apartment, I fell onto my bed and pulled the covers up over my head.
Minutes later, Aubree walked in, my meds in one hand and a bottle of Gatorade in the other. She handed over both, asked if I was hungry, then promptly left when I flipped her off. Food held no appeal. Not only because my stomach was a freaking mess, but the idea of food touching my throbbing throat was enough to make me sweat.
It was bad enough swallowing the antibiotic. Once I had it down, I grabbed the NyQuil that was still on my bed from the night before and took another big mouthful. Pulling the covers up over my head, I let sleep take me and prayed the meds would work so I didn’t have to go back to the doctor for a different antibiotic.
“Ro.”
Lifting my eyes, I saw it was dark outside my window, and Genesis was leaning over my bed, her phone outstretched. “Sin said he hasn’t been able to get hold of you, so he called me. Do you want to talk?”
I shook my head, pushing her hand away. “Go. Away,” I gritted out, making my throat hurt more than it already was.
“Ro!” I heard Sin yelling my name from the receiver. At the sound of his voice, I wanted to cry. I ached to have him hold me, to baby me, and to just love on me. But I wasn’t about to ruin his weekend. If he’d been so desperate to go he hadn’t even told me about it, I wasn’t going to be the reason he cut his weekend short. “Just talk to me, goddamn it.”
Snatching the phone out of her hand, I ended the call and then blocked him. “Now leave me alone,” I whispered. “And if he calls anyone else, don’t fucking answer.”
“Shouldn’t I at least explain to him you’re sick and that’s why you’ve turned into a cranky bitch?”
“Gen!” I hissed. “If you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to cough in your face and give this shit to you. Go. The. Fuck. Away.”
“He’s calling me now!” London yelled from the living room. “What should I do?”
“Don’t answer it,” I groaned. “And leave me alone.”
Genesis sighed exasperatedly, tucking the covers up around me. “Fine. Fine. You just rest. Don’t worry about anything else.”
As she walked out, closing the door behind her, I heard London asking her if Sin and I broke up.
“Don’t know. She’s not really able to talk much.”
Their voices became muffled as she moved away from the closed door, and I shut my eyes. The NyQuil was still holding strong, and I fell back to sleep almost instantly, too tired to worry about Sin and his trip or my soul sisters gossiping about me out in the living room.
Saturday came and went in the blur of bathroom trips, forcing down more meds, and sleeping. I vaguely remembered Aubree threatening to take me to the hospital for IV fluids if I didn’t start drinking the Gatorade she kept bringing me and I kept ignoring in favor of sleep. I drank half a glass, and she seemed satisfied enough she didn’t bitch at me much afterward.
Sunday, my throat didn’t feel nearly as bad, and my headache had faded.
After a shower, I walked into the kitchen in search of something to eat. I hadn’t eaten in over forty-eight hours, so I was freaking starving.