A hot pad?”
The sweet, sexy man in my doorway thought I was getting my period.
It made me laugh, and that made me suck in a sharp breath when my back spasmed.
He was all the way inside the room now reaching for me. He laid a cool hand on my forehead and one on my back.
“It’s nothing,” I said through clenched teeth.
“You take meds every day on a schedule. Meds that you keep hidden in your room. You hold yourself like your back hurts all the time. And now you’re curled up on your bed in the middle of the night moaning in pain, Shelby. Don’t lie to me.”
“Look, there isn’t anything anyone can do,” I said, sharper than I’d intended. “Don’t think you can dig into this and fix it.” That’s what he was: A fixer.
“Talk to me,” he ordered.
“I don’t want anyone to know,” I confessed, squeezing my eyes shut again.
“Roommate confidentiality,” he said, his hands still on me. It was so different from the way he’d touched me earlier, still gentle but now almost clinical.
I cursed my stupid body. He’d never look at me the same now.
“I have a… condition,” I said, exhaling slowly when the spasm lessened.
“Okay,” he said, waiting for more.
“I was just diagnosed this spring, and it’s manageable and annoying, and I hate it, but I’m dealing with it, and it’s my body, so I don’t have to tell my whole family and have them worrying.”
“Shelby.”
“Ankylosing spondylitis.” I blurted the words out.
It was the first time I’d ever said them out loud. And that was weird. It wasn’t like saying it made it more real. Or did it?
“Bless you,” Jonah joked.
“Har. Har. It’s a form of arthritis. Spinal arthritis. I could end up bent in half.” I joked, but the thought of it was still terrifying.
“Arthritis. Inflammation,” he said.
I nodded into my pillow and tried not to whimper like a big, dumb baby. I hadn’t had a flare since just prior to my diagnosis. I’d thought there was something very, very wrong. Now, at least I had a name for it, and I knew it wasn’t some kind of rare form of meningitis devouring my innards. Small comfort in the moment though. With Hot Roommate Jonah sitting on my bed looking at me at my sweaty, pained worst.
He got up and walked out.
“Great. Just great. Thanks a lot, stupid garbage arthritis,” I muttered into my pillow.
“I can still hear you,” he called dryly. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
I heard the water running in the bathroom and then his quick stride on the stairs. True to his word, he returned a minute later.
“Here. Take this,” he said. Grumpily, I opened my eyes. Jonah was standing before me. A glass of water in one hand, two caplets in the other.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Naproxen.” He dumped them in my hand and helped me into a seated position so I wouldn’t choke and die.
“Thanks,” I said, slugging the water back. “You look mad.”
He did. His jaw was tight, lips pursed.
“I’m not mad,” he insisted.
“Now which one of us is lying.”
“I’m not mad,” he said, taking the glass of water from me. “I’m annoyed that you’re selfishly keeping this from everyone. What good is that doing anyone?”
“I’m going to tell my family. I just want to get a handle on it first. Geez. Cut me some slack. This is my first flare since the rheumatologist put a name to it.”
“Was this when you left town a few weeks ago?”
“Yeah. I knew something wasn’t right, and I had to meet with my dissertation director anyway to make sure I was headed in the right direction with my research.”
“It’s not right that you’re keeping people out of this part of your life. Now, get up,” he said.
“Why? Everything hurts, and I’m whiny. I’m not going to be less whiny someplace else,” I warned him.
“Up,” he said, gently tugging me to my feet. He guided me out of the room, and I limped across the hall to the bathroom.
The tub was filling with hot water. “Sit,” he ordered, pushing me down on the toilet lid.
I gaped at the tub. “You’re drawing me a bath?”
He pulled a carton out from under the doll-sized vanity. Epsom salts. “Yes. You shared your situation with me. I’m helping take care of you. You got a problem with that?” He dumped the salts into the tub.
I shook my head.
“Good. Now, do you need help getting undressed?” he asked, testing the water temperature with his hand.
“Nope,” I