For a week, Indianna had been on bed rest. For a week, she had been trying to distract her thoughts from Rogue. For a week, she had been succeeding. Or at least, she told herself she was. Every time her mind drifted, every time she felt the familiar ache of curiosity mixed with fear, she pushed it down. She had to. She had survived worse than Rogue, or so she reminded herself.
"Go away, Greyson," Indianna groaned, bending over the toilet. Her stomach churned again, making her grimace. "I don’t want you seeing me puke."
"It’s not the first time, sugar," Greyson said, steadying her hair with gentle hands. "It probably won’t be the last."
She retched again, the bitter taste of bile burning the back of her throat. She hated how weak she felt, hated depending on him like this, hated every ou
