Page 47 of In This Moment

“Correct.” She paused. “That’s based loosely on Katherine and William’s courting period. The tradition was handed down. Sheldon and Rosemary played it the night the journal appeared.”

“Alrighty.” His brows wrinkled. “How’d a blogger get ahold of it?”

“One of my Boston contacts. I told her the tale to get better exposure. She never did write the backstory, though, just the game portion.”

“Might be better that way.” He winked. “It can stay a Vallantine secret.”

“Yeah.” Hopping down, she laughed. “Ready to go?” She’d woken up in more pain than usual this morning, and she wanted to take an extra dose of her antioxidant, followed by a nap. Especially if they were going out tonight. Caffeine wasn’t touching her fatigue, either.

“Sure.” He headed for the door, and waited until they were both on the porch before speaking again. “We should play the truth challenge.”

“I’m up for it, soon as we have a first date.”

Chapter Twelve

They’d decided to go to the bar on the outskirts of town instead of The Tipsy Turtle in the Main Square for their night out and celebration. Along the river, the place sat under a lone yellow-tinted streetlight, and the gravel lot was a cluster of cars or trucks with seemingly no order to the parking. It was called Backwater and, well, it was definitely that. The establishment had apparently been in business for over thirty years, catering to locals.

From the outside, the building resembled a large fishing shack, and the inside didn’t do much to change Graham’s opinion. It smelled like stagnant river water and stale beer. There was no AC. Dark, worn pine throughout. Cracked white linoleum floor. A long bar on the right wall, a small stage with a dance floor in the back, and scarred tables throughout the rest of the space. Oh, and taxidermy. Weird taxidermy. Squirrels, a boar, catfish, deer, and a crocodile, all affixed to the paneled left wall. Lightbulbs with plastic green shades hung from the ceiling randomly by way of illumination. Still, it was dark, somewhat cloudy due to cigarette smoke, and loud. Really, really loud country music.

But, hey. They did karaoke on Saturdays.

If someone had told him six months ago he’d wind up in a bar like this with a bunch of southerners, and enjoying himself, to boot, Graham would’ve passed out cold in hysterics. As a rule, he tended to steer clear of places where he might need a tetanus shot before entering or where it was likely he’d get murdered walking out. Alas, here he was at a corner table with one old friend and four new ones, waiting on a basket of fried catfish and chips, and drinking warm beer. It was all Backwater served. A fish and fries basket, and one brand of beer on tap.

Rebecca had been right. He did like Aden. He was honest, laid back, and unapologetic. He’d been the last to show tonight, and had promptly parked it in a chair next to Graham, offering a firm handshake and a lopsided smile. They’d been discussing everything from their opinions on the uselessness of golf and their interest in video games to the worst movies they’d seen. He reminded Graham of an aw-shucks, more social version of Forest.

“Be right back,” Rebecca announced, rising from her seat.

She wore a tight-fitting blue shirt and jeans. He wanted to peel them off. All her layers. Watching her laugh with her friends and get chatty in a carefree manner half the night had set his heartrate into the next stratosphere. Such a great laugh. More than once, the smile had lit her baby blues, changing the whole schematic of her usually reserved expression. It had actually started back at the library and hadn’t seemed to dull since.

Scarlett rose, too, and they headed toward the bar. Probably to get refills for everybody. There was no waitress, so they’d been taking turns.

He glanced at Rebecca’s cola. She was the only one not drinking beer.

“She had to take her as-needed pain pill earlier.” Dorothy’s lips curved in an understanding smile as if she’d known what he’d been thinking. “It’s not a narcotic, but she’s not supposed to have alcohol while on it.”

Pain pill? For what? Worry sank his mood. Before he could inquire, Dorothy pressed her lips into a fine line, realization dawning in her eyes.

“She didn’t tell you?” At the shake of his head, she glanced over her shoulder toward the bar and back to him. “She has fibromyalgia. A pain disorder associated with nerves and muscle strain. It’s not my place to say anything. I should let her tell you. With you being her boss, I thought she had already.”

Aden shrugged. “It’s not a secret, either. She was diagnosed, what, five years ago?”

“Yes. She manages it pretty well.”

Graham let that fester, worry forming knots in his gut. He’d heard the term before, but he didn’t know a damn thing about it. Was it a disease or condition? Was it… “Terminal? It’s not terminal, is it? I mean, she’ll be okay, right?”

“Oh.” Dorothy straightened, placing a warm hand over his, her brows furrowed. “No, it’s not terminal. It’s not a widely understood condition, but it bears some similarities to lupus. It causes pain and fatigue. Some people have trouble sleeping while others get migraines or have digestive problems. Many experience brain fog, with difficulty focusing. Symptoms are across the map, and not everyone experiences all of them.”

Graham tried to absorb the intel, but none of that sounded good. It also didn’t seem like the Rebecca he’d met because she was what his grandmother would call a “whirling dervish.” Always on the go, helping, working, and staying active. She was sharp as a tack. She never once gave any indication she was hurting.

He scratched his jaw, his stomach a riot. “So, she’s in pain?”

Dorothy nodded, but it was Forest who spoke.

“All the time. Some days are better than others, and there’s triggers, but yeah. To hear her describe it, she always has pain to a degree.”

Damn it. Always? She was always in pain? How did she live like that? And Forest had known this, but hadn’t thought to tell Graham? Anger battled with anxiety in his head.

“Ask her about it later.” Aden finished the beer in his glass. “It sucks, big time, but she’s open about discussing it, best I can tell. Scarlett told me way back when Rebecca had been diagnosed, so I texted her out of concern. Of course, she was still up north at the time. We talked for an hour and got caught up on other stuff. It still sucks, yet I felt better after hearing her explain.”

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