Chapter 41 Avery #2
Gemma slid off her stool. “D’you know what—I’m feeling awful,” she said and her throat sounded hoarse. “I’m gonna go home and sleep it off.”
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for lower pollen tomorrow,” Avery called after her as Tanner pressed a kiss to her temple that held a world of promise for when they were alone again.
As it turned out, Gemma wasn’t the only one who didn’t feel right.
At first, Avery thought she might have eaten too much.
As the evening rolled on and everyone took drinks out by the pool, she ignored the initial churn of her stomach because she was having far too good a time.
Sam, Olli, and Arlo had challenged each other to a bellyflop competition and it was easy to put her discomfort down to sympathy pains to start with.
“You’re nearly twice my weight. You can do better than that!” Arlo goaded as Olli climbed back out of the pool.
“You calling me fat?” The Rapids center clutched at his chest, feigning hurt.
Avery’s giggle broke off as the first twisting cramp caught her by surprise.
“You OK?” Tanner’s eyes swung to her face when he felt her fingers twitch in his hand.
“Yeah. Just a bit of stomach ache.” She tried to work out if her period was due. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
As she reached the kitchen, her head started to spin and her eyes blurred.
A clammy sweat broke out on the back of her neck.
Swallowing against the nausea rising in her belly, Avery quickened her pace and she headed for the upstairs bathroom, wanting peace and privacy.
Her knees hit the floor the moment she pushed through the doorway, and she was instantly and violently sick.
The retching felt like it lasted for ages though it probably didn’t. She’d only just sat back, leaning against the shower screen, when Tanner appeared. His brows were tight with concern.
“You look rough.” He ran a washcloth under the faucet and wrung it out. When he crouched before her and gently wiped her face, Avery frowned.
“You’re a bit pale yourself.” Her voice was croaky.
“Not sure I feel great either.” He gave a pained smile. “And Leo says his stomach doesn’t feel right. That damn restaurant is getting a one-star review.”
A light sheen of sweat had broken out on his forehead.
“I’ll be fine. I’m going to sit here a bit longer, but you should go sort yourself out.” Avery’s eyes tracked the moist swallow in Tanner’s throat and his obvious discomfort kickstarted her own nausea.
He pushed to his feet. “I’ll come check on you soon.” He looked unwilling to leave for a moment but then grimaced, laying a hand over his abdomen. Ducking back out of the doorway, his footsteps sounded on the landing and faded as he disappeared into the en suite off his bedroom.
Thinking she’d message one of her friends to bring her up a glass of water, Avery tugged her phone from her pocket. The lock screen image was a picture of Bel with a jaunty pair of devil horns and flames added by a filter and an MMS notification covered her chin like a goatee. “6 photos,” it read.
Avery opened the messages.
In the first photograph, she was coming out of the general store.
In the second, she climbed from her car on the driveway at home.
There was a shot of her pulling the curtains closed at night; one of her and Bel in the front yard; her and Leo coming out of Diner 43.
And the last photo showed Avery cleaning the egg from her car.
Random movements of the past week cataloged in images.
A rush of blood pounded in her ears. The implicit threat behind the photographs pumped adrenaline into her poor, drained body like water through a sluice gate.
What the actual fuck?
Dizziness overcame Avery again and she dropped her phone to the floor with a groan. As chills crept up the back of her neck like ghostly fingers and her stomach cramped, she realized the sickness wasn’t done with her yet.
The next hour was no fun at all. Sore and exhausted, she vomited until she had no more to bring up. Then she struggled to her feet and washed out her mouth.
She thought she’d had it rough, but when Avery finally felt up to checking on Tanner, propping herself up, jelly-legged, against the doorjamb, she found him so much worse.
“Can’t stop . . . being . . . sick,” he ground out, arms folded over the toilet bowl.
“And I can’t breathe . . . properly. Something’s not right.
” And then his stomach emptied again, his shoulders shaking with vicious tremors.
Laying a hand between his shoulder blades, Avery found his t-shirt wringing wet.
Alarm bells rang when Tanner heaved again and she realized his lips were blue around the edges.
“I’m getting Drew,” she declared uneasily.
His only reply was another painful retch.
After that, things moved fast. Drew, switching from carefree guest to eagle-eyed medic with instant efficiency, was blunt and decisive.
“That’s not your usual kind of food poisoning,” he said grimly, reaching for his phone. “I think someone put something in the takeout. I’m calling an ambulance.”