Page 152 of Salto

The hotel was right near Daytona Beach, and we arrived late that evening. When we got into the lobby, it was quiet, the lights dimmed, and the front desk illuminated by a few lamps.

Rove walked up to the receptionist and began checking us in.

He glanced over the room assignments, found mine, and a few moments later handed me a key.

“Here,” he said. “Your room is 302.”

“Thanks,” I said. The distance had somehow grown again after getting off the flight. During the shuttle drive over, I’d had my AirPods in. I wasn’t in the mood to talk.

“Get some sleep,” he said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

I nodded, avoiding his concerned gaze, and rolled my suitcase away toward the elevator.

When I got to my room, I found Lexi sitting cross-legged on one of the queen beds, scrolling through her phone.

Relief flooded me.

Thank goodness it was Lexi.

“Hey,” I said, smiling as best as I could.

“Hey.” She set her phone aside and sat up straighter. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know,” I said, hoping she did in fact know.

“I’m sorry you had to miss camp.” She frowned as I unzipped my bag and pulled out my toiletries. I just wanted to brush my teeth, clean my face, and pass out.

“It’s okay. How was it?” I dared to ask.

“Hard,” she said, and it was then I realized how exhausted she looked. “I should’ve expected it would be, but for some reason, the intensity of the camps always surprises me.”

“And the others?”

“Everyone survived. Riley hurt her ankle a little on vault, but I think she’ll be fine by Nationals.”

I nodded. “That’s good to hear.”

“You cool if we head to bed?” She gestured to the lamp.

“Yeah, I was just gonna hurry and brush my teeth and then I was planning to go straight to sleep.”

After slipping into my pajamas and completing my night routine, I crawled under the covers.

My phone buzzed about twenty minutes later.

I wasn't even close to falling asleep. My mind refused to shut off despite how tired I was.

With a sigh, I reached for my phone and checked the message.

ROVE: I'm sorry you had to miss camp.

I set the phone face down, putting my head in my hands.

How was I supposed to tell him it had nothing to do with him? And everything to do with my body failing me.

I finally picked the phone back up and typed a response.

ME: I'm not mad at you. You were right. I needed to go see the doctor.