Page 55 of The Last Love Song
Instead, panic gnawed her gut as she became more fully awake. Because for a moment, she wasn’t sure if she could move.
“Zach.” His name burst from her lips in a fearful moment.
“I’m here.” He tugged her closer.
Pain shot through her hips as he moved her stiff, unyielding body.
“Wait.” Heart rate spiking, she gripped the couch cushion to steady herself in the wake of the pain.
She immediately regretted it, her knuckles protesting in a fiery scream.
“What is it?” He must have heard the worry in her voice. He levered himself up on one hip to peer into her face. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she replied automatically, though she couldn’t begin to school her features in a reasonable semblance of okay.
Nearly every joint had locked into place. Worse, absolutely every joint burned with pain. Mentally, she went through them all. Toes. Ankles. Knees. Hips. Fingers. Wrists. Elbows. Shoulders. Even her jaw. God, how could talking hurt? The panic in her gut gnawed harder. What the hell had happened to her?
“You’re not okay.” Zach stared at her, concerned amber eyes unblinking. “What’s the matter?”
She closed her eyes. She couldn’t deal with his questions and all this hurt, too. And fear. It was too much.
“I must have fallen asleep wrong. I have a really bad crick in my neck.” While technically not a lie, the admission neglected to mention the hundred other places that hurt.
And not just a little, either.
The pain was so intense, a wave of nausea rocked her.
In the meantime, Zach was speaking. She didn’t know what he said because she was too busy battling the sick feeling in her stomach. But vaguely, she sensed him sliding off the couch to pull on his pants and crouch in front of her.
She opened her eyes and met his intense, assessing stare.
“I need a few minutes.” She forced her hand to move. Fingers to clench around the heavy fleece blanket he’d given her. She tugged it up to her face and hid inside it.
Not from him really. Just from the pain inflicted on her with every movement.
“You’re scaring the hell out of me, Heather.” Zach’s voice knifed straight through the fleecy folds to pierce her ears with a tone she’d never heard him use. “Start talking to me now or I’m calling an ambulance.”
She yanked down the blanket.
“No. My God, no.” Fear warred with pain, battling all her fiery hurt into submission so she could prop up on an elbow. “It’s happened before. I’ll be okay.”
His palm covered her forehead.
“You’re pale. You’re burning up.” He reached for his cell phone. “You’re getting medical treatment.”
“No.” She clawed the phone awkwardly from his hand. “Please, Zach. My family can’t know about this.”
“Can’t know about what?” The concern she’d seen in his eyes earlier had been replaced by frustration. Anger, even.
Damn it, she was the one in pain. Why did she have to justify her reasons for keeping it to herself? Finally, she let herself say the words.
“I was recently diagnosed with a chronic condition. I was supposed to see a doctor in Charlotte, but I had to cancel my appointment when?—”
“What condition?” His hand lingered near the phone she still held captive.
Logically, she knew it shouldn’t matter that she had decided to keep her health issues quiet. But her family was unique. Her mother’s tendency to see crisis in every situation had taught her to keep upheaval to a minimum. And damn it, this problem washers. It was not about her mom.
“An autoimmune issue. But I’ve got some medicine at home, Zach. I just need more rest.”
