Page 33 of Too Far

Chapter 13

Josephine

Afamiliarsenseofunease greets me the moment I open my eyes. It’s not panic, exactly, but something’s not right.

I’m in my own bed, alone. It feels too big, and the room feels too empty without at least one of my guys here with me.

I reach out and search my nightstand for my phone. Squinting at the too-bright screen, I blink away the sleep and register the time.

4:31 am.

It’s too damn early. With a yawn, I climb out of bed, but every move makes my body ache. A few days have passed, but it’s possible that I’m still sore from all the escapades of Kendrick’s homecoming. Thankfully, I don’t have to leave for class until midmorning, so after I empty my bladder, I’ll crawl back into bed and get a few more hours of sleep. Maybe I’ll feel better once I’m rested.

Wincing, I shuffle into the bathroom and turn on just one light.

The second I sit down to pee, I know.

The burn grows in intensity the longer I urinate. Dammit. I groan, recognizing the telltale signs.

I’ve got a fucking UTI. Ouch. And ugh.

I sit on the toilet longer than necessary, desperate for any measure of relief from the burning urges. Eventually, though, I force myself up, wash my hands, and splash cold water on my face.

Once I’ve dragged myself back to bed, I pick up my phone, considering my options.

I don’t want to panic Kylian. Because hewillpanic.

I refuse to wake up Nicky. He’s still recharging, and in an effort to encourage him to rest, we’re each in our own room tonight. He’s really struggling—with the pain, with the aftermath of the run-in with the photographer, and with the guilt and trauma of Kendrick taking the fall for him. The last thing I want is to keep him up late or leave him feeling isolated while I’m snuggled up with the other guys. So separate beds for a night or two is our best option.

Decker’s a nonstarter. Despite all the progress we’ve made, I would rather ride a bike in a wet bathing suit with a UTI all the way to the drugstore than ask Decker for help. Probably more of a me problem, but still.

That leaves one person.

Jojo:Are you up? It’s not an emergency, but I need help.

The knock on my door comes less than sixty seconds later.

“Jojo? You in here?”

The door opens silently, and Kendrick peeks in. When he finds me buried beneath the covers, he quickly enters the room and shuts the door behind him. The second he turns and really looks at me, he falters.

“What’s wrong?” he demands, striding to the bed like he’s running the ball down the field.

He’s shirtless, which is a sight to fucking behold. His silky athletic shorts rest low on his hips, putting his expanse of hard, defined muscles on full display. Even in my current state, I can appreciate the beauty.

Weakly, I hold out one hand. “I think I have a UTI.”

“Shit,” he murmurs, coming to stand beside the bed. “Does it hurt? What do you need?”

My heart flips in my chest at the care and adoration in his voice. This man. This beautiful, kind, sweet grump of a man.

“I love you,” I whisper when he takes my hand and sits on the edge of the bed.

“I love you, too. Now tell me what you need.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Would pain meds help?”

I nod, dropping an elbow to the mattress so I can sit up.

“Stay down,” he murmurs, gently pressing on my shoulder while simultaneously whipping out his phone. He combs his fingers through my hair as he scrolls.