Page 38 of Not Fooling Anyone

They’d done a blood sugar test on Friday which indicated I have it, then a different fasting blood sugar test first thing Monday morning which gave the same results. The past two days have been filled with appointments with an endocrinologist and nurses throwing information at me, learning how to use a glucose meter and insulin syringe, worrying whether my sugar levels are too high or too low.

But even with all that, I’m still glad I know now. It’s hard to imagine what might have happened if I didn’t.

“Thank you for reaching out,” I add. “It could have, I don’t know, saved my life.”

“Yeah, of course.”

I clear my throat, not wanting to dwell on that too much. “Could you not mention anything to Lexie? I haven’t told her yet.” Haven’t told anyone. How do I even broach the topic? “I’m still wrapping my head around it all.”

“You got it,” he says. “Researcher-patient confidentiality.”

“Thanks.”

I return to the chair in the corner, waiting until Lexie’s finished and Justin brings her back, noting how pale her face is again.

Damn. I should have gone in there to help when he took out her IV.

I stand and sling an arm over her shoulders, hating the way she hunches in on herself.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she murmurs. “Just want this day to be over already.”

“We have anything left to do?” I ask Justin.

“No. You’re both free to go. Drink plenty of liquids to flush out that dye.”

Yeah, drinking a lot of water hasn’t been a problem lately.

“Come on.” I lead her out of the room and down the hall, passing by the main lab.

I pause in the doorway, catching Dr. Clark’s eye. “We’ll see you next week?”

She holds up a hand in a wave. “Yeah, thanks guys. I’m excited to see how your brains look.”

Don’t hold your breath.

We continue on, Lexie speeding up so my arm drops from her shoulders.

“You have somewhere to be?”

She glances over her shoulder, a flash of guilt crossing her face. “Yeah. I have to run.”

So that’s how she’s going to play it? I thought I’d at least get a little explanation of what happened in there.

I nod, slowing my gait so she can make a quicker escape.

At the stairwell exit, she pauses, turning back toward me briefly. “I’ll be at Marty’s tonight working on the books. In case, you know, you’re there too or something.”

Does she want me to be there? “Okay.”

“Okay,” she repeats, disappearing through the door.

Maybe she’ll be ready to talk later. Maybe she’ll answer some questions.

I chuckle aloud. And maybe I’m deluding myself.

CHAPTEREIGHT

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