“Hey, are you okay?”
Lottie clutches her stomach. “Noooo,” she groans.
“She threw up again,” the school nurse says, holding up her backpack. “Get her home and make sure she rests. Stay hydrated and don’t eat anything too intense.”
“Thanks.” Hooking my arm in Lottie’s, I lead her to the exit. “Good luck at the dentist,” I tell the woman who’s covering her mouth now.
Like that’ll stop an airborne virus.
“I’m sorry,” Lottie says, voice strained as we head down the sidewalk.
“Don’t be sorry. Just focus on not throwing up.” I eye a blue Honda sedan that’s taken the place of Pack Lennox’s SUV. The driver rolls down the window. “Are you Hazel?”
“Who is that?” Lottie groans.
I spot the rideshare sticker on the windshield and the dots connect. They may not be driving me home directly, but they made sure Lottie and I wouldn’t have to take the subway. My chest clenches. “Our ride,” I tell Lottie. “I figured the subway wouldn’t be good for your stomach.”
My sister is too out of it to ask how I got the money or when I downloaded the app, so I shuffle her into the back seat and slide into the front. Lottie rests her head against the window and groans.
The guy blanches. “If she throws up?—”
“She won’t,” I tell him quickly. “Do you know where you’re going?”
He shakes his head, watching Lottie with distrust.
I rattle off our address and that gets him going. He pulls away from the school so fast I’m thrown into the door. I glare at himand buckle my seatbelt—I’m a thief, not an idiot—and clutch the oh shit bar.
“If you’re trying to make her throw up, this’ll do it,” I tell him with a scowl.
He eases off the gas, but not much. We make it home in record time, and as soon as I get Lottie out, she slaps her hand to her mouth, runs into the alley and pukes.
“This is your fault.” I point at the driver, knowing that he’s not fully to blame, but feel very little sympathy. He was driving like an asshole. “Don’t expect a tip.”
Considering I’m not paying for any of it, I’m not sure whether or not he’ll get one, but I plan to text Ezra to let him know that guy doesn’t deserve shit. A pitiful moan comes from the alley.
Shaking my head at the driver, I whirl around, features crumpling at the side of Lottie wobbling on her feet. She’s looking far more green than is normal.
“Come on,” I tell her softly. “Let’s get you in the shower and then into bed.”
With mumbled protests, Lottie allows me to lead her inside. “Why do you smell like a bakery?” she complains.
Shit. “Uh, I had cake for brunch.”
She’s too sick to realize it’s a lie and she simply groans. “You’ll be okay. I’ve got you.” I get her cleaned up and in bed, plop down on the couch, and release a long heavy breath.
My phone buzzes three times in a row. There’s a new group message. I save the numbers for Kill and Maddox, then go back to the other message.
EZRA
How’s your sister?
Chewing on my lip, I glance at Lottie, who has her arm thrown over her eyes. My one semi-serious ex-boyfriend neverasked me about her. He was only interested in what I could do for him, not about my life.
She’s not feeling too well.
Let us know if you need anything.
I let him know not to tip that asshole driver and lock the phone. I cradle the device to my chest. What if this pack isthepack for me? Where else will I find a pack who’s okay with my thieving ways? They’ve done worse things than me but still generally seem to be decent human beings.
