“Oh, come on,” I blurt out to break the silence, ignoring the tickle in my throat telling me another cough is brewing. “That get-together in Detroit… it’s obvious he’s interested in you. And you were playing it all cool, and I thought maybe a little too hard to get. You really—”
Willow cuts me off snappishly. “I am too hard to get because I don’t want him to get me.”
“Why? You had a great time with him. It was unparalleled sex from what I remember you saying. I don’t believe for a second—”
“We’re not compatible,” Willow says gently, the soft tone cutting over my tirade and stopping me in place. I can’t even think to come back with a good argument.
All I can ask is, “Why not? The sex is great. Isn’t that enough?”
“It was great, but—”
Willow’s words are drowned out as another coughing fit overcomes me. It feels like razor blades are shredding my lungs. Disgustingly, I bring up a huge glob of phlegm I’m forced to swallow down again.
And then…. a wave of dizziness hits me. I reach out, pressing my palm onto a table that holds several shoe displays. Closing my eyes, I try to get my bearings.
“Are you okay, Regan?” It’s Willow’s voice, but it sounds like it’s coming through a tunnel. But then it seems to get louder and clearer. “Regan… look at me.”
Slowly, I flutter my eyes open, Willow coming into immediate focus. The dizziness is gone. “Yeah… I’m fine. Maybe the cold has just gone into my head.”
“You look a little pale,” she says with worry. “Why don’t we leave?”
My initial instinct is to deny I’m sick and insist we keep shopping, but I suddenly feel exhausted. I’m also dying of thirst.
“Yeah,” I say as I hook my arm through Willow’s once more. This isn’t a sign of camaraderie. Rather, I want to use her for balance in case I get dizzy again. “I think I could actually use a nap before we leave for the game tonight.”
Willow stops dead in her tracks, turning to me with both hands gripping my shoulders. Her eyes are swimming with worry. “Regan, there’s no home game tonight. It’s away. Dax is in Dallas, don’t you remember?”
Dax is in Dallas?
Dax is in Dallas. He left this morning. I remember now.
Fear strikes in the pit of my stomach.
I smile sheepishly, trying to keep my voice steady. “Oh yeah… that’s right. I’m sorry. I think I might be a little dehydrated. Maybe we could stop and get me a bottle of water somewhere?”
Willow stares at me a moment, the concerned expression on her face not budging an inch. Finally, she gives me a slow nod and ushers me toward the exit of the department store. Our arms are once again linked, and I can feel her holding me steady. As we get nearer to the entrance, another wave of dizziness hits me. “Willow.”
My legs seem to turn to Jell-O, and I start to sag. Luckily, there is a bench just a few feet away with an old man sitting on it. He has several bags at his feet. I’m guessing he’s waiting for his wife who must be on a shopping spree.
Willow leads me over to it, and I sit next to him. Raising my eyes to hers, I swallow hard. “I think I need to go to the hospital.”
Willows voice quavers with fear. “Is this something more than a cold?”
I know exactly what she’s asking me. And it’s not something I had actually considered until that moment of confusion about Dax’s game. I nod, fairly sure I’m in a hemolytic crisis. My blood cells are being destroyed faster than they can be made. They’re necessary to carry oxygen throughout my body. I’ve been in this situation before, and I recognize it.
I give a slow nod, speaking past the dryness in my mouth. “I think so.”
“Do you want me to go get my car?”
I shake my head, my gut instinct telling me that’s a bad idea. “I think you need to call an ambulance.”
“Shit,” Willow mutters, then whips out her phone. Before she can even attempt to unlock it, I reach out and touch her elbow. “Don’t call Dax. He’s got a game tonight, and I don’t want him to worry.”
“I’m calling 9-1-1.”
“I know that,” I say with a wan smile. “I’m saying after… don’t call Dax.”
Willow gives me an exasperated grimace. “He will kill me if I don’t let him know what’s going on.”
I know there’s an important point I should make to her, but between the dizziness and fatigue, it’s a little hazy. I shake my head. My words are so weak sounding. “He can’t do anything. He’ll only worry.”
Willow’s words are clear… I think. I sort of understand what she’s saying. But I’m not sure I really care as I begin to feel very, very tired.