Page 28 of Unspoken Promises

“You have a pretty mean rash.”

She groans. “Oh no. Is it gross?”

I know how women can be about these things. My sister hated even the smallest blemishes, so I try to make her comfortable.

“I’m a farm boy. Nothing much fazes me. And the hives don’t ruin the view.”

I tease to lighten the mood, but my gut knows how much I mean it. And how much I shouldn’t have said it.

“I still don’t want you seeing it.” She starts to tug her shirt down an inch.

I push her back down on the sofa, because if she needs help, I’m going to give it to her. “You’re not going anywhere, Scottie. You said your throat is tight?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you eat anything different tonight?” My brother, Gabriel, has a peanut allergy, and I remember him getting hives a few times as a kid.

“A few snacks at Town Hall. Since getting home I’ve been snacking on that chocolate spread thing I bought at the grocery store.”

“That has hazelnuts in it.” I know because… Gabriel. We weren’t allowed any nut products in the house growing up, and that was one of them. “You’re not allergic to nuts, are you?”

“I don’t know.” She sucks her teeth. “Geez… It feels like my skin is going to burst.”

She tries to reach back to touch the spot where she’s hurt but can’t reach it. “Now that I think of it, I guess I never really ate peanut butter or anything like that growing up.”

Crap. I hope this doesn’t get serious. “I think I should get you to a doctor. Just in case.”

“No. Please… no… just… do you have anything that could help?”

“I’ll go to my brother’s house. He’ll have things.”

When I rise from the couch she tugs at my boxers, nearly pulling them off and I fall back down on the sofa.

“Please don’t leave me. I’m lightheaded. Do you have something here? Anything? I just need to cool my back off. It’s like there are lit matches sitting on me. Ice? Anything?”

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

I bound over to the kitchen and speed dial my dad’s cell.

He picks up, and speaks with the voice of a man who’s been stirred from sleep. “Zo?”

“I think Ava might be having an allergic reaction. Nuts maybe. She says her throat is tight. Has hives on her back.”

His sheets rustle, and his feet hit the floor so quicklythey make a thud right through the phone. “Crap. What can I do?”

“Would she already be in anaphylaxis if it’s bad?”

“Most likely. Do you have an EpiPen and some antihistamine? Cream for the hives? I can head over to Gabriel’s and see what he has.”

I’m already bounding to my bathroom to grab things, pills, cream, a glass of water.

“It’s fine. I don’t have an EpiPen but I have supplies.” Dad knows that. Gabriel’s allergy is life-threatening, so we all keep things on hand.

“Put some cream on her back. Give her antihistamine and keep an eye on her. Don’t let her go home. If she has a delayed reaction…”

“I got it.”

I look at Ava’s long body stretched out on my sofa. Her bare back nips in at the waist. Her butt is peachy, and her long legs are bare. Am I really going to touch her? I have to help, but if merely gazing at her causes my pulse to race, what will happen when my fingers actually come into contact with that smooth skin of hers?

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