Page 155 of Rush the Edge

I gasp and head straight for my bedroom door.

Both Kane and my brother look like they’ve been caught red-handed when I push open the bedroom door and step into the living room.

My brother holds one pot steady as Kane grips my green watering can in his hand. Water trickles out of the spout. “Stop right there.” I place my hands on my hips. “What are you two doing?”

“Well, good morning, sleepy head.” My brother lifts a brow. “Kane here thought it would be a good idea to water your plants.”

Kane peers at me from across the room. “The soil was dry. They’re thirsty.”

He’s probably right. Exhaustion has won lately, and with the fogginess of my Lupus settling in, I can’t remember to water them. I’m going to have to start a chart again, just like I used to do.

My brother sets the pot down on the ground, and a little bit of soil plops onto the tile. “Careful!” I shout.

He ignores me, putting his hands on his hips. “So when were you going to tell me about being in a flare?”

I immediately gape at Kane. His jaw flexes, but he keeps a hold of my stare until River interrupts us.

“Don’t be angry at him.” River walks over to the coffee table and snags my journal. “I forced it out of him when I found you two in bed together.”

The blood drains from my face, but I make sure to keep my attention on River instead of Kane.

River flips open my journal, landing on the page where I’d been writing my fevers down. “I’ll admit, I thought he was in your bed for a completely different reason.” He chuckles sarcastically, as if he’s saying,what an absurd idea, right?“Once he told me that he found you on the floor after you didn’t show at the game and then showed me this”—he holds up my journal, but I don’t bother looking at it—“I knew he was telling the truth when he said he was making sure you were okay because you were in a flare.”

Whew.

The nerves in my stomach fizzle when I see that we’re in the clear.

“I’m calling Doctor Gibson.”

Even though I know it’s childish, I stomp my foot. “River. Let me try to regulate myself before jumping to conclusions that I need a steroid or something long-term. This may just be an acute flare.”

He turns his back to me. “Bloodwork won’t hurt. If Dr. Gibson agrees that the homeopathic route is the way to go, then so be it. But you know what this disease can do, so you’re going in for bloodwork.”

My shoulders dip.

I’m not one to jeopardize my health, and I know deep down that he’s right. This is something I should discuss with Dr. Gibson. It’s one of the main reasons I’m in Chicago. I have to get a better grasp on my life, even when I’m in a flare. I’ve been trying to keep things under control and the same as before, but since I’ve gotten here, things have gotten to be too much.

Once River is on the phone, talking to hisfriend—my doctor—Kane makes his way over to me. My watering can is still in his grip, but it lowers when he dips his head closer. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I had to give an explanation as to why I was in your bed.”

I try to grab the watering can, but he doesn’t let go.

“I thought you’d use it as a good excuse to tell him about…” My words fade because do we put a label on this?

“Us?” he finishes for me.

He pulls on the watering can, and I stumble toward him. “Because there is an us, Daisy.”

My mouth remains closed.

I won’t argue, not after the last few times we’ve crossed the line.

“I’m letting you lead.” Kane’s finger brushes mine, and I swear it leaves a trail of heat behind. “If it lowers your stress to keep this between us for now, then okay.”

With River’s back to us, Kane’s hand slips up my arm and around my neck for a brief second. His messy hair flops onto his forehead as he tilts his head toward me. “I’ll keep you a secret forever if you need me to…as long as I get to keep you forever too.”

A blush spreads over my face.

He pulls the can from my grip, and I willingly let go. He takes his time inspecting each of my plants with as much care as he showed me last night and waters them with a steady hand.

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