Page 73 of Allison

“What do you mean?” Worm turns toward Wallace to see him fully. Wallace looks down at the floor. Unease wriggles its way through Worm.

“She spent most of the first two weeks in her room,” Wallace says, glancing back at Worm with guilt on his face. “She was really upset when she got there. She didn’t want to be around anyone.” Worm could tell there was more. More that Wallace didn’t want to say.

“What?” Worm demands, “Just tell me.” Wallace’s face pinches into a grim expression, but he nods.

“She cried for hours, well days, actually.” Worm winced at the thought of her crying, being sad, and him not there to hold her. “Emma tried to stay with her, but Allison demanded she leave her alone.” Wallace looks out across the gym, a volley of emotions crossing his face. “She didn’t leave her room for nearly two weeks, except to use the bathroom.” Wallace looks back at Worm, who is reeling from this new information. “Emma took her meals to her. Eventually, she came out and ate supper with us a couple of times. She’d been moving around the house more, going out in the back yard. She’d seemed to be getting better.” He stopped abruptly.

Worm closed his eyes as he asked, “And then?” He knew there was more and he wasn’t going to like it, either. He waited for the shoe to drop.

“She holed up in her room again after she saw you in the kitchen last week,” Wallace concludes, cutting Worm deep. He’d done that to her. Worm had thought if he could just get her alone for a few minutes he could explain things to her. He knew she cared for him. She’d melted into him when he’d helped her get a glass from the cabinet. For a brief moment, she’d forgotten how angry she was with him. She’d let him hold her, take all her weight, like she had when they’d been in Denver.

Then it was like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on her. She’d stiffened and pulled away from him leaving the kitchen without even getting herself a drink. He’d wanted to chase after her, to force her to hear him out, but he’d feared he’d make things worse. From what Wallace has told him, he isn’t sure he could have made it any worse than it already is, but what is he supposed to do? Bust up in Wallace’s house, force his way into her room and demand she talk to him?

“I need to see her,” Worm declares, rising to his feet. “I have to talk to her.” He picks up his water bottle, securing the lid before stuffing it into his gym bag. Wallace stands, stepping in front of him before he can move to the door.

“I don’t think now is a good idea.” Worm frowns at his friend. Isn’t that what this intervention was for? To get him to get his shit together and go talk to her?

“Why the hell not? Isn’t that why you are all here?” Worm shifts his gaze from one of his teammates to another.

“Allison isn’t at home. Emma took her to the clinic.” There was something in Wallace’s tone that had the hair on the back of Worm’s neck rising. Something is wrong with Allison. Concern for her hits him hard. Is this something left over from her abduction?

“What’s wrong with her? Why does she need to go to the clinic?” Worm is rapid firing questions, not giving Wallace time to answer. “How long has she been sick? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Which—” Wallace holds up his hand to end his tirade.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” Wallace informs him. “She’s been vomiting, fatigued, light headed, and having nose bleeds. It all started last week. As for why I didn’t tell you…she asked me not to say anything.”

“Where is she? What clinic?” Worm is more on edge than he’d been all week. He needs to get to her, to see her, hold her, and to help her feel better. He needs to do something.

“Emma took her to see Charlotte.” Worm nods, pushing past his teammate. He knows exactly where to go. Charlotte is the wife of Worm’s C.O. Hawk. She’s a nurse practitioner who works a few days a week at an urgent clinic on the other side of town. He trusts Charlotte to take care of Allison, but he has a burning need to see Allison, right now! It can’t wait.

Worm throws his bag behind the seat of his pickup truck, sliding into the driver’s seat. Before he can put the truck in gear, Mercury is pecking on the passenger side window. “Let me in!” Worm huffs, glaring in Mercury’s direction, but he hits the door locks. Mercury slips into the passenger seat. “Let’s roll. I’ll keep you company.”

Shaking his head, Worm puts the truck in gear. He’d never tell Mercury, but he’s more than glad Mercury decided to join him as he hurries across town to check on his woman.

46

ALLISON

Allison is sitting on a cold hard exam table in a paper gown at the clinic where Emma has brought her to see Emma’s friend, Charlotte, who is a nurse practitioner. The older woman is married to Russell and Curtis’s C.O. She trembles not only because it’s cold in the room, but from the thoughts of having to be examined by a virtual stranger. Allison had met Charlotte when Curtis’s team had come to San Diego a couple years ago, but she doesn’t know Charlotte all that well.

Allison hadn’t wanted to come to the clinic, even though she knew she needed to see someone, but Emma had insisted. For the last week, not only has Allison been having to pee every hour, but she has woken up sick as hell, throwing her toenails up. She shivers just remembering how violently she’d vomited this morning, making her feel sick all over again. The nausea has been almost constant, only giving her short reprieves.

In addition to the nausea, she has been so damn tired. She can’t seem to get enough sleep. The fatigue must be related to her waking to pee or from nightmares every hour or from the nosebleeds, which she’s had three of in the last week. She’s never had them before which is concerning and warrants a trip to the doctor, but she doesn’t like the feeling of vulnerability being at the doctor brings. However, she is on the other side of the country from where she’s used to living. As a child she’d had terrible allergies which had gotten better when she’d moved out west. Allison feels certain it’s just because the air is different here.

Allison snorts out a laugh at that thought. “What’s so funny?” Emma asks from her chair in the corner of the room where she’s thumbing through a magazine.

“I was just thinking the air is too clean here. There’s no smog, but lots of pollen. My body can’t take it,” Allison says with a smirk. “That’s why I’m having nose bleeds and sleepy as a newborn.” Emma frowns at her, giving her a look that she’s being ridiculous.

Before Emma can scold her, the door opens and in walks a very pretty woman in a lab coat, Charlotte. She isn’t very tall around 5’ 4” with wavy brown hair, which Allison suspects she dyes to keep it from being gray. Allison knows Charlotte is in her early-fifties.

“Hi, Emma!” Charlotte says when she notices Emma in the corner. Emma gets to her feet and gives Charlotte a hug, who looks up to see Allison sitting on the exam table. “Allison, it’s good to see you again.”

“You, too, Charlotte,” Allison replies. “I’m sorry to bother you, but Emma insisted.” Emma is convinced Allison is depressed or suffering from PTSD, which possibly she is, but that doesn’t explain all of her symptoms. Allison thinks this is something more than just trying to cope with everything that’s happened to her since Emma’s wedding a month ago.God! Has it only been a month?

“It’s no bother, Allison,” Charlotte chides. “I wish we were seeing each other under better circumstances. Now, tell me what’s been going on?” Allison gives Charlotte a list of her symptoms. Emma jumps in from time to time, adding her observations and her concerns to the story. When she’s finished, Charlotte looks thoughtful as she reviews Allison’s chart.

“Let me check you over,” Charlotte says as she moves closer, removing her stethoscope from around her neck to place it in her ears. “I think we need to get some lab work, a urine sample, and a thorough physical exam. When was your last physical?”

“Um, I’m not sure,” Allison answers, squinting her eyes as she tries to remember. “I suppose when I saw my GYN last, about three or four years ago, maybe?” Charlotte gives Allison a classic ‘you should know better’ mom glare.

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