CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Jessica closed her eyes, wishing she were still out in the woods with Mark, snuggled up with him in their sleeping bag. Because the rest of her day had sucked. After the doctor’s appointment from hell, she’d given a massage to an old man with terrible gas and done manicures for a couple of the rudest tourists she’d ever met. By the time she finally made it home from work, it was after eight, and she was dead on her feet and cranky as hell.
And the lights were on in her house.
She frowned as she spotted Nicole’s car in the driveway. That’s what she got for giving her sister a key…uninvited house guests when she just wanted to be alone. Stifling a groan, she stomped up the front steps and into her house.
Nicole and Brennan sat on the couch, margaritas in hand. A sitcom she didn’t recognize was blasting from the TV, filling her living room with its laugh track.
“What the hell?” she said, planting her hands on her hips.
“Sibling intervention,” Brennan said. “I drove by here last night to check on you, but you weren’t home, and Nicole was texting you all afternoon to ask about your doctor’s appointment, but you never replied. So either something’s wrong that you haven’t told us about or there’s a man. Or both. So we’re here to find out what’s going on, offer our support, and gain any and all juicy gossip.” He lifted his margarita with a smile.
“God, you two are nosy.” Jessica slung her bags over one of the kitchen chairs and walked to the fridge for a glass of water.
“Guilty as charged.” Nicole followed her into the kitchen. “Want a margarita? I already mixed up a whole batch.”
“Sure.” Jessica poured herself a glass of water and drank half of it without stopping. Truthfully, a margarita was probably the last thing she needed tonight, but it might help make this “sibling intervention” more bearable.
“Have you eaten yet?” Nicole asked as she poured a glass full of the yellowish concoction and handed it to Jessica.
She shook her head as she accepted the drink.
“I knew we should have brought food too. Bren and I both ate earlier. What can I fix you?”
“Nothing. I’ll make something later.” Jessica left behind her half-empty water glass and walked back to the living room with her margarita in hand.
“We’re definitely going to feed you, but first tell us about your appointment this morning,” Nicole said.
Jessica sighed as she dropped into the armchair next to the couch. “Dr. Rimmel drew about a million vials of blood for tests and basically told me that if these tests don’t come up with any answers—and she didn’t sound very optimistic that they would—that we might be looking at a diagnosis of chronic fatigue syndrome.”
Nicole frowned. “Chronic fatigue syndrome?”
“It causes unexplained fatigue, aches, pains…pretty much everything I’ve been experiencing the last few months.”
“So how do you treat it?” Brennan asked.
“I don’t think you do, really.” Jessica took a sip of her margarita. “There’s no cure for it. That’s why they call it ‘chronic.’ You just have to find ways to treat the symptoms and then deal with it.”
“Oh, Jess.” Nicole put down her drink and came to give Jessica a hug. “That sounds awful. How are you feeling about all this?”
“I’m pissed as hell.” She took another drink, waiting for the tequila to numb the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “I’m not okay with it at all.”
“Does it ever just go away?” Brennan asked.
Jessica shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask many questions yet, and I haven’t had time to Google search it.”
“Don’t do that,” Nicole said, looking alarmed. “Everyone knows the Internet will convince you that you’re dying.”
“That’s the damn truth,” Brennan said. “Last month, Patrick pulled a muscle in his leg, and somehow he convinced himself it was a blood clot. Oh my Lord, he was a mess.”
Jessica laughed in spite of herself. Her brother-in-law had always been a bit of a hypochondriac. “I won’t let the Internet convince me I’m dying. I promise.”
“And surely some of your New Age voodoo stuff will help you feel better.” Brennan winked. He liked to tease her about her lifestyle, but he respected it too. A few years ago, when his migraines had gotten bad and the medicine his doctor prescribed made him too woozy to drive, he’d come to her for help. She’d found a combination of acupressure and essential oils that had gotten his pain under control.
“I’ve been managing my headaches naturally for the last few weeks.” She gestured with her glass. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be drinking with you guys tonight.” She’d also been detoxing her body with mineral baths after-hours at the spa.
“We’re here for you, Jess. Whatever you need. Feel free to lean on us any time,” Nicole said.
