Page 70 of Truck Off

She stares up at me like she’s confused why I’m even here. “Headaches. Ever heard of them? Some people get them regularly. I am some people.”

Her words are clipped, and a little slurred, like she had to work hard to get each one out.

I frown and furrow my brow. “Don’t be a smartass, Grumps. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m not, and I’m fine.” She turns away from me so I can’t see her face.

She sways again and this time she has to brace herself against the picnic table to keep from falling.

“Bullshit. You’re not fine.” I insist. I step up behind her and rest my hands on her shoulders. She shudders under my touch.

“Yes I am. Now fuck off.” She growls out, but there’s no real force behind the words. She’s trying to hide from me, and I don’t like it.

She pushes against me and takes a quick step forward like she’s desperate to put space between us. The movement is too much for her—too fast—and her legs give way. She crumbles to the ground, but I swoop in and grab her before she makes contact.

“Lina!” I call out, but she doesn’t respond. She’s out cold.

I gather her up in my arms and her forehead falls against my neck. She feels cold despite the fact that it’s a warm spring day.

“I’m getting her out of here,” I say, more to myself than anyone else.

“What’s going on?” Clara calls from behind me, but I don’t stop to answer her. Karla can fill her in.

I open the passenger door to my truck and set her down. As I’m pulling the seat belt around her, her hand brushes across my arm.

“My meds,” she mumbles. “Need them.”

“Where are they?” I ask, trying not to let the worry come out in my tone.

“Purse.” She points toward the picnic table. When I look back, I see Clara gathering up her things.

“Okay.” I kiss her forehead and she lets out a soft sigh. “I’ll get it.”

By the time I turn around, Clara is already heading in our direction. She has Lina’s purse and her water bottle in hand.

“Thanks,” I say as I take them from her.

“Is she okay?” Clara’s worried voice does nothing to calm me down. Mostly because it’s not a question I can answer.

“Lina, tell me what you need.” I dig into her purse despite how wrong it feels. Grams preached to us as kids that a woman’s purse was off limits. I push Grams’s voice out of my head and do it anyway. Thankfully, I find a prescription bottle quickly.

When I lift it up, Lina nods.

“How many?”

She holds up a single finger.

I hand her a pill, then help her take a drink of water to swallow it down. As soon as she does, she relaxes into the seat as if this one little pill will make everything better.

Meanwhile, I’m filled with panic. I don’t recognize the name of the drug, and every worst-case scenario imaginable is running through my head.

Is Lina sick? Like life-threatening sick? If she is, she’s done a hell of a job at hiding it. No one keeps secrets for long in this small town.

“Where are you taking her?” Clara asks.

“My place. She’ll be comfortable there,” I say as I rush around to the driver’s side of my truck.

Clara nods. “I’ll arrange to get her car to you then. That way it’s not stuck here all weekend.”

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