Page 20 of Love Sick

“What?” Joy gasps, shaking her head in fear. “I won’t tell a soul. Just let me go.”

“I can’t do that. We both know that.”

Joy desperately looks at me for help.

I simply yawn in response.

“It does seem a waste, however. I could use you.”

“Yes, you could. I’ll do whatever you want.”

Famous last words because when Alanna walks over to the silver table and pulls back the white paper cloth, revealing sharp medical tools, it’s apparent Alanna doesn’t want to sit around a campfire singing Kumbaya with Joy.

“No!”Misha screams, which surprises me.

He cares what happens to her?

But he soon clarifies.

“I need to know why.”

Of course he does.

Don’t we all?

Is this Misha’s closure? Once he finally uncovers the whys, can he finally be at peace?

The crucifix around my throat reveals my faith, even though I’ve questioned it more than once. But I can’t help but feel our connection speaks to me beyond this world.

“Please…I need to know it all.”

This is the least I can do for Misha. It’s because of him that I’m alive. I owe him this.

“My heart hurts,” I say to Alanna, as I know this is the only thing she cares about. If my heart is a risk, so is her reunion with Jonathan.

Immediately, she rushes over to my bedside, ensuring the IV is still attached to me. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It aches.”

She retrieves the stethoscope from around her neck and places the drum to my chest, listening closely.

“It’s beating normally. What other symptoms do you have?”

“Nausea and light-headedness.”

Alanna sighs, her worry clear.

“Maybe if you didn’t break my knee, this could have been over with by now and you’d have your fairy-tale ending?” I can’t help but twist in the knife.

She ignores my jab. “I’ll give you some vitamins. We need you strong.”

I know Joy is hanging onto every word, but she would never guess what Alanna has planned because it’s that farfetched.

The moment Alanna leaves the room, I whisper to Joy, “If you want me to help you, then you need to tell me everything.”

Joy nods quickly, understanding the dire circumstances we find ourselves in. “I was married, but Jonathan wasn’t my husband.”

“Whose husband was he then?” I ask because I don’t understand how he fits in this.

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