Zoey catches wind of my meltdown and nudges me with her knee. “What’s wrong with you?” Her question is laced with interest rather than concern.
“Nothing,” I reply breathlessly. I don’t want to talk in fear of throwing up.
Saint turns over his shoulder to look at me, but I give him a weak smile, not wanting to worry him.
“These winding roads are making me queasy. That’s all.” Holy s**t, as far as excuses go, that is f*****g lame, LAME, seeing as I was stuck on a yacht for days, but it’s the best I can do.
“I’ll slow down,” Pavel says, and I’m thankful at least one person believes me.
Closing my eyes, I inhale and exhale slowly, shutting out what Larisa said, but the harder I try to ignore it, the louder and more persistent it becomes.
Larisa has said all of five words to me since I ar
