I open the app, which alerts me that it’s time to change my continuous glucose monitor’s sensor. Thankfully, I knew it needed to be replaced and came prepared. I place the new sensor on the counter, peel the monitor off the back of my right arm, and dive in. After separating the transmitter and sensor, I toss the old sensor into the trash. Once everything is prepped, I swipe the back of my left arm with an alcohol pad and snap it on.
I re-open the app to make sure everything paired properly, and my mouth falls open at the notification.
“What? Pair a new transmitter?” I refresh the app and shake off my worry. When it reloads, everything will be fine.
Then the same message pops up and my chest aches.
“No. No, no, no. Please not tonight.”
Even though I’m already sure there isn’t one in there, I dump my fanny pack onto the counter and search through the contents. Of course I didn’t pack a second transmitter. They’re supposed to last up to three months and this one has only been on for six days.
Shit shit shit.
I reach into the bag to find my blood sugar test strips for manual checks, but the pocket is empty.
During the water balloon fight, Shay very kindly moved my bag out of the splash zone. But because it wasn’t zipped, the strips fell into a puddle and were ruined.
A quick Google search tells me that the closest pharmacy and urgent care are almost forty minutes away, and they’re either closed or closing in the next fifteen minutes.
“Fuck!” I whisper, panic sharpening the word.
I rush into the bedroom for my keys, but I know I can’t leave. Driving without knowing my current blood sugar is too dangerous. Blood sugar levels become even more unpredictable after drinking, and I don’t even have the tools to monitor it.
Not a single person in this house is sober enough to drive me to Clear Lake tonight. Hell, there’s no way they will be awake and sober before noon tomorrow at the rate they’re going.
Everything is blurred by tears as I grab my phone and make a call. Tears stream down my cheeks as I give instructions to the kind voice on the other side. For all I know I could be yelling, but the calm cadence of his voice soothes me.
“I’ll be there soon, Eddie. I’m on my way.”
I hang up and slide down the door until I’m on the ground. Closing my eyes, I search for my safe place like Sharon would tell me to do.
I listen for sounds of birds lost in the trees and rub my arms to simulate the warmth of the sun on my skin. I imagine the dock’s splintering wood digging into the back of my legs. I visualize the guy I’m falling for holding my hand as we sit on the dock.
“Kenneth will be here soon. Breathe.” I repeat this over and over until a memory resurfaces, giving me an idea.
“Five things I can see. The floral comforter…”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
My fist bangs againstthe front door of the cabin in the middle of nowhere. As the minutes tick by, it gets noticeably harder to not kick the door down. The two-hour drive felt like an eternity on the winding roads and narrow one-way streets to this hidden place.
This cabin is massive enough to house the whole football team. Who knows if any of the girls can even hear me from their bedrooms.
Cade and I were in the middle of a FIFA tournament when my phone started ringing. When Cade saw Mallory’s name, he answered it with his voice in its usual silly state. Then he shoved the phone into my hands and ran to his bedroom, returning moments later with her spare house key.
Her words were hushed and rushed, giving instructions that I committed to memory. At her house, I gathered test strips, three sensors, and three transmitters from her bathroom before speeding to the address she sent. Since then, she hasn’t answered her phone.
I call again, and it goes straight to voicemail.
Again.
Someone better open this door in the next thirty seconds or I’m kicking it in. I pull up Shay’s number that Cade sent me, but right as I’m about to click the call button, the front door swings open.
“Kenneth?” She steps into the dim light, rubbing tired eyes. “You’re here?”
Without waiting for an answer, Mallory steps forward and throws her arms around my neck. Damp skin cools my collarbone as I pull her against me. The familiar scent of coconut does a better job of calming my racing heart than the grounding method I tried in the car.
This is all I thought about the entire drive. I think I might need this hug more than she does.
