Page 10 of Fangirl Down

Absently, she lifted her arm until her elbow was pointing up at the ceiling. For the first time since he’d “known” Josephine, he noticed a small, gray, oval-shaped button on the back of her arm. “The beeps are letting me know my blood sugar is low.” She dropped her arm. “I’m a diabetic. Type one.”

“Oh.” He should have known that. Why didn’t he knowthat? Wells searched his mind for any knowledge whatsoever that might be lurking about diabetes and came up empty. They weren’t supposed to eat anything with sugar, right? “Are those things... all you need right now?” he asked, tipping his head toward the tube as she stowed it back into her pocket.

“Yes. Right now.” Under her breath, she added, “Better to have low blood sugar than high.”

“Why is that?”

She pushed a hand through her hair, turning away from him slightly to survey a damaged display rack. “High blood sugar requires me to give myself insulin to come down and I need to spread my supply out.” A slight flush appeared on her cheeks. “My health insurance isn’t up to date at the moment.”

“Oh.”

The knowledge that this person was so much more than his most loyal fan came crashing down on Wells’s head like a ton of bricks. Josephine had problems to contend with. Serious ones. Her family’s shop was underwater and she had to worry about blood sugar going up and down. And he’d ripped her fucking sign in half?What kind of a monster am I?

Wells cleared his throat hard. “Health insurance seems like it might be pretty vital when you’re a diabetic.”

“Trust me, it is. But...” Her throat worked. She paused, coughed, and kept her voice even. Brave? Or was she just trying to avoid getting emotional in front of him because he’d demanded it? Both? “Everything just snowballed so fast, you know. Ironic in Florida.” Why did that joke make him want to splash through the water and... hug her? Jesus, he was not a hugger. He wasn’t even a shoulder patter. “I fell behind on rent payments for the shop. At first, it came down to paying for rent or the commercial insurance... like, flood insurance? I paid the rent.”

A weight sank in his stomach. The shop wasn’t covered.

“Shit, Josephine.”

“Mega shit.” She closed her eyes, shook her head a little. “Last year, I put my health insurance on pause so the payments wouldn’t be a burden on the shop. Started taking on more golf lessons, so I could just buy my medical supplies out of pocket. But like I said, everything just seemed to snowball and...” She trailed off. Took a breath, lifted her chin, and pasted on a determined smile. “I’m going to figure it out, though. I always figure it out.”

He hadn’t deserved to have this girl in his corner for the last five years.

That fact was growing more obvious by the moment.

Someone should have been cheering for her, instead.

“I can give you the money,” Wells said, easing the worst of the pressure in his chest. Okay. Yes. He had the solution. She wouldn’t have to spread out her insulin or be forced to take any other measures to remain healthy. He might not be the number one golfer in the world anymore, but he had tens of millions banked from those earlier, successful days. Might as well give the cash to someone who needed it, before he spent it all on scotch. “I’ll write you a check. Enough to repair the shop and cover your health insurance for a year. Just until you’re back on your feet.”

She stared at him like he’d suggested they take a vacation on Mars. “Are you serious?”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

Silence passed. “Neither do I. So believe me when I say, there isn’t asingle chanceI’m taking your money. I’m not a charity case. I can take care of myself.Andmy family.”

“What is this? A pride thing? You’re toostubbornto accept?”

“Are we really pointing out each other’s flaws, because I don’t think you have that kind of time on your hands.”

“I have nothingbuttime on my hands.”

“Fine! Then your backswing is timid.”

“My—” His neck locked up like a prison cell. “Whatdid you say?”

“I said...” She stomped through the water and got right in his face—and damn. It had been a very long time since he’d wanted to take a woman to bed this badly. In fact, maybe he’d never wanted that outcome more in his life. At this exact point in time, it would have been the angry kind of sex that ended with nail marks down his back and her in a stupor, because yeah, she’d just taken a shot at his technique. And she wasn’t done. “You used to swing like you had nothing to lose. It was glorious to watch. Now, you handle the driver like you’re worried the ball might yell at you for hitting it too hard.” She stabbed him in the chest with her index finger. “You swing like you’re scared.”

No one had spoken to Wells like that. Not since Buck.

Not since those early, early days when he’d picked up the club and felt magic race all the way up into his shoulder and a sense of purpose in his fingertips.

It was like coming up through the surface of the water and taking a deep breath.

Her honesty was oxygen.

But breathing it? That part was terrifying.

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