Page 23 of We Can Forever

I snort. “I’d say it’s a few too many people. And they’re not so much looking out for me as they are trying to crawl up my ass all the time. How am I supposed to have a good date when it feels like the whole damn town is watching us?”

“True.” Nathan gazes across the street, his eyes unfocused. “I did say I have some ideas, though.”

I push off the truck, standing straighter. “Okay, hit me with it. What is it?”

He looks back at me, his eyes twinkling. “Don’t worry. It’s a good one.”

Chapter Nine

HANNAH

“Whew.” The woman who has just selected a pair of crochet needles for her nephew’s birthday buttons up her jacket. “What a drop in temperature, hm?”

I force a smile as I ring her up. “Yeah, it’s pretty cold.”

Actually, it’s more like achingly cold. Painfully cold.

I’ve been feeling the quick change in temperatures since last night, when my joints started protesting. It was hard to get out of bed this morning, and after a long day of work, it’s hard to even remember the names of many of the skeins.

The math is pretty simple. A quick weather change equals aching joints, brain fog, and exhaustion. And if I don’t take it easy soon, I’ll be dealing with a serious flare-up.

Which would mean I’d need to shut the shop down for a day or more. Since Flick has a big order she needs to fulfill this week, I wouldn’t have anyone to cover for me for that long.

“Thank you.” I hand the woman her bag. “I hope he has a great birthday.”

“Thanks, sweetie. Take care.” She bustles out of the shop, and I glance at the clock on the wall.

The second I do, I wish I hadn’t. It’s two more hours until Flick comes in to close for me, and then I have my date with Michael.

Going out with him tonight is pushing it. I know that. Lately, though, he’s been the number one thing I think about, and I don’t want to miss any opportunities to spend time with him. Plus, I haven’t told him I have fibromyalgia, and I still haven’t figured out how to bring it up, so that’s another reason I don’t want to cancel.

It’s just all such a mess. I can’t close Knit Happens early, because that would alienate some of my customers, and I don’t want to miss tonight with Michael either. But if I push my limits and have a flare, everything will fall apart.

Once again, I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, my condition forcing my life to a standstill.

Tears fill my eyes, and I curl my hands into fists. I quit wondering years ago why I received the random dice-roll that gave me this condition, but I’ve never stopped being angry. Never stopped imagining where I might be in life if chronic pain weren’t constantly in my way.

My cell rings, and I answer Flick’s call. “Hey.”

“What’s wrong?” she asks immediately.

I sigh and sit on the stool behind the counter. Damn, this woman is perceptive—and I was trying to sound chipper. “I’m just tired. The weather is not doing me any favors.”

“God, I’m so sorry.” There’s a pause. “Uh, hold on. I have to, um…”

“Flick?”

The only answer is the sound of vomiting.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Yeah. Fine.” Her voice is weak.

I frown. “Oh no. Are you sick?”

“It’s just a stomach bug. I’ll be okay.”

“You can’t come in and close.”

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