The churning of her stomach had roused Lynne from her nap with Noah, giving her just enough time to find and pull on her panties before bolting to the bathroom to throw up. She'd thought the seasickness was over; she'd been doing so well, after all, but her stomach hadn't even been able to hold out for her to rifle through Noah's things for a t-shirt.
She heard and felt more than saw Noah come into the bathroom and crouch down beside her. Lynne let her hand fall away from her hair when he took it to hold it out of her way and as much as she hated herself for it, she couldn't stop vomiting long enough to thank him. The soothing gesture of his rubbing her back was appreciated, even if she couldn't bring herself to speak to let him know as much. Once she thought she was finished, she leaned back and slumped against Noah, exhausted and still feeling nauseous. "Thanks," she croaked when he helped her into a t-shirt and had put a cool washcloth on the back of her neck.
Pushing her lips together and looking up at him, Lynne frowned before looking away again. "I want to die," she moaned pitifully in response to his question.