Page 59 of Rush the Edge

“Still snooping around in my things? Grow up, Kane.”

I take my anger out on my matcha, frothing it so much it’s a foamy mess by the end. Refusing to admit defeat in any part of my morning, I take my too bubbly latte and sip on it while mentally sending daggers into the back of Kane’s head.

I feel much better this morning than last night, but I’m still not one hundred percent. I’m sluggish, and my limbs are heavy. Every time I blink, my eyelashes flutter too many times in their attempt to stay open.

Half of my matcha is gone by the time Kane climbs from the couch.

Just when I sigh in relief from his departure, he heads into River’s bathroom with my phone still in his possession.

Ugh.

I exhale heavily and head to the cupboard to grab my vitamins. My hands ache even more than my knees do. The rigid cap of the bottle cuts against my palm when I squeeze the lid to open it up.

Growling under my breath, I try again and again until my hand is shaking.

Lupus: 1

Daisy: 0

I use my other hand to try to open the container, but it’s even worse than my dominant one.

“Damn it,” I mutter.

I should have taken my brother up on one of those infomercial gadgets that help elderly people open pickle jars after their strength is gone. It was a joke, but it would honestly come in handy.

“Give it to me.” I jerk from the sound of Kane’s voice at my back.

The vitamin bottle goes flying into the air, and Kane catches it with a cat-like reflex. The cap is off within a blink of an eye, and he’s handing it to me.

Is this a truce?

Instead of taking it, I ping-pong my attention between him and the opened bottle.

My hand stretches forward slowly, and he does nothing but stare at me with an unreadable expression on his face. My fingers brush against his, his abs flexing with the touch. He doesn’t let go of the bottle. Instead, he peers at me in the same way he used to when we were kids.

“Are you sick, Daisy?”

Twenty-Two

KANE

Daisy’s eyes widen,and I’m stuck with my hand on her vitamin bottle, frozen with the need to know what’s going on.

River eventually texted me back, and what a dead end that was. He fed me some bullshit excuse about how she’s sensitive over the topic and doesn’t want him to tell anyone.

Since when does he care about what she wants?

Also, since when do I care?

I silently scoff. I’ve always cared, but since when do I show her that I care?

This is bad for my façade, but my heart is racing. The ringing in my ears is back, and there are too many emotions surging to be able to act like I’m unbothered by this.

“Daisy?” Her name slips through my clenched teeth.

Her gulp cuts through the ringing, and I focus on her mouth. “Yes.”

The opened bottle of vitamins slips through my fingers, ironically, just like she did years ago.

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