Page 184 of One Big Little Secret

Holy shit!

I look for a way off the road, but there isn’t one.

We’re stuck.

God.

“Hang on, sweetheart.” I keep my voice calm, unshaken, though panic sweeps through me.

I might have to put the big reveal on hold if he’s getting violently sick. He’s only had a few stomach bugs over the years, and they always hit hard and fast.

I’ll be lucky if I don’t get it. Last time, I spent two days hunched over a toilet, regretting everything I’d ever eaten for the last year.

The traffic inches along. I swing into a parking lot for a gas station, knowing I can start cleaning him up there.

“Stay calm, big guy.” My fingers are too tight on the steering wheel. “It’ll be okay. I’ll just get out, find the wipes, and get you all cleaned—”

I stop cold as I look at him again.

He doesn’t say anything.

His eyes are half-closed.

His lips are too pale and his eyes are drooping and glassy.

Is he breathing?

Panic.

My own breathing becomes a deafening roar in my ears as I fling my door open and run to his side. There’s too much sick everywhere, and the only time he moves is when he keeps convulsing, heaving himself dry.

Oh my God, no.

I start using my fingers to clear his airway, holding his head, trying not to shake.

All I can smell is rancid orange.

“Arlo?” I shake his shoulders, but his head lolls loosely. “Arlo!”

He’s still breathing, yes, but he’s not responding.

He barely seems conscious as he groans.

My hands shake like leaves, fluttering around his face. I’m probably supposed to do something to help right now, but all I can think of is the fact that he’snot freaking there.

He’s dying in front of me!

“Arlo, Arlo,” I beg, my voice choked.“Arlo.Please.”

By the time I have the wits to grab my phone and hit emergency, I’m screaming into it.

Soon, he isn’t moving at all.

22

BAIT AND SWITCH (PATTON)

The weathered brick building looks uninspiring from the outside.

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