“I can,” I say. “Should I? Probably not.”
Silas snorts. “Still sarcastic. That’s a good sign.”
They haul me up between them. Boone supporting my back, Silas bracing my other side as if we’re staging some very dramatic barn waltz.
My vision swims. My stomach rolls.
“Easy,” Boone says. “Just breathe.”
They walk me toward the tack room. Or drag me. Hard to say. The world keeps pulsing in and out around the edges.
I’m vaguely aware of Silas pulling his phone out. “I’m calling Delaney.”
“No,” I croak.
Boone frowns at me. “Why the hell not?”
Because she’s Delaney.
Because she hasn’t looked at me quite the same since I pushed that conversation too far.
Because the last thing I want is for her to see me this way. Weak and pathetic and shaking hard.
“I don’t need…” My knees buckle mid-sentence. Boone catches me before gravity does.
Silas is already dialing.
Traitor.
Within minutes, the tack room door swings open and Delaney rushes in, hair windblown, cheeks flushed from thecold. She looks… beautiful. Too beautiful for my fever-addled brain.
“What happened?” she demands, dropping to her knees beside me.
“He fainted,” Silas says.
“He’s got a fever,” Boone adds.
“He’s also an idiot,” Silas finishes helpfully.
I glare at him. It lacks force due to the wholeI’m dyingthing.
Delaney presses her hand to my forehead and inhales sharply. “You’re burning.”
“That’s what I said,” Boone mutters.
I try to sit straighter, to salvage whatever dignity I have left, but the room tilts violently, and Delaney steadies my shoulders.
“Don’t move,” she orders.
Her voice leaves no room for argument.
I shut up.
She looks up at the guys. “Get him into the house. I’ll start a bath and grab medicine.”
“I don’t need?—”
She cuts me a look so sharp it could slice through steel. “Caleb. Hush.”
