AVALINE

He examined what I was wearing as usual. A hint of approval slipped into his expression before he glanced back at me.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Where are you hurt?”

I diverted my attention and put my sweaty shirt into a large Ziploc bag so my bag wouldn’t smell when I put it in there.

When I bent down, I hissed in pain and rubbed my back. Even reaching behind me took effort because my arm also hurt.

“So stubborn,” I heard him mutter.

I felt my feet leave the floor as he ...