Page 106 of Hometown Halftime

He does cute things like making coffee while his hair sticks up from sleep. Then there was one time I caught him leaning against the kitchen counter deep in concentration while working on his laptop—which was sexy by the way because, hello, a glasses-wearing hunk wearing no shirt while reading is pure hotness. And recently, he has started brushing his hand against my lower back absentmindedly when we pass each other in the duplex.

Meanwhile, I’m losing my goddamn mind trying to figure out how this arrangement is supposed to begin.

Because contrary to what romance novels and tequila-fueled girls’ nights would suggest, I’ve never casually ‘planned’ to seduce a man before. Especially not one I genuinely care about. And that’s the part that’s becoming a problem. I care about Riley more than I should. More than feels safe considering there’s an end date to his time here.

I push all Riley related topics aside, take a deep breath and focus on the building in front of me.

I tighten my grip on the steering wheel while sitting in the parking lot of Roanoke Valley Orthopedics, staring through the windshield at the brick medical building in front of me. I haven’t told anyone about this appointment. Not Brynn or Kate and definitely not Riley. I don’t want everyone to be overly concerned before I know anything, and talking about any of this out loud makes it feel too real.

The stiffness in my lower back pulses when I shift in the driver’s seat. That’s been happening more lately too. I’m not sure if I’m more aware of it because of all the doctors’ appointments, but I notice it constantly now. Mornings are when I feel it the most. Sitting too long makes my hips angry. Long shifts at Gordy’s leave me stiff enough that standing upright afterward feels weirdly difficult sometimes.

Hopefully this appointment will bring me some answers. So, I blow out a slow breath before finally climbing out of my Jeep and heading inside.

I’m sitting on the exam table when Dr. Patel walks in, holding a tablet against her chest, expression calm and professional.

“Morning, Kinsey,” she says as she closes the door behind her.

“Hey.”

She settles onto the rolling stool across from me. “How’ve you been feeling since we ordered the MRI?”

I let out a short laugh. “Do you want the honest answer or the optimistic one?”

“One hundred percent honest.”

“Stiff and a little sore. My hips hurt most in the morning.” I hesitate briefly. “And now I’m tired all the time.”

Dr. Patel nods slowly like none of that surprises her. Which makes my stomach feel unwell. She taps something on the tablet before turning the monitor mounted beside her toward me.

“Okay,” she says gently. “I want to walk through your results with you.”

The MRI image fills the screen first. Gray and black shapes I don’t fully understand until Dr. Patel points toward the lower part of the scan.

“These are your sacroiliac joints,” she explains. “Your SI joints connect the base of your spine to your pelvis.”

I nod slowly, even though I still have no idea what I’m looking at.

“You can see the inflammation here,” she continues, circling brighter areas on both sides of the image. “That inflammation shouldn’t be there.”

My mouth goes dry.

“Okay…”

She flips to another screen showing bloodwork results.

“Your labs also came back positive for the HLA-B27 genetic marker.”

The term means absolutely nothing to me. Apparently, my face gives that away because her voice softens further.

“HLA-B27 is a gene marker associated with certain autoimmune conditions, particularly inflammatory arthritis conditions.”

Arthritis?

“No offense,” I say carefully, “but isn’t arthritis something people get when they’re old?”

An understanding smile crosses her face. “There are many different kinds of arthritis, Kinsey. Osteoarthritis is the wear-and-tear type most people think of first. But inflammatory arthritis can affect younger adults too.”

The room suddenly feels too small. I stare back at the MRI image while my pulse climbs faster.