Page 137 of Hometown Halftime

“I can’t do it,” I whisper brokenly.

Riley sits beside me, one hand sliding carefully against my back while the mattress dips beneath his weight.

“Okay,” he says, his voice filled with worry. “Okay, that’s alright. Just breathe first.”

I try. God, I try. But my chest hurts from crying, and embarrassment burns hot across my skin because this is not how I wanted him to find out. Riley glances down at the injector pen again before looking back at me carefully.

“What is that?”

My throat tightens, because there it is. The moment I’ve been avoiding all week.

I stare down at the injector twisting between my fingers. “Medication.”

Riley stays quiet, waiting.

“I’ve been going to doctors,” I admit nervously.

Confusion flickers across his face first, then concern.

“What’s going on?”

My vision blurs again with fresh tears.

“I have ankylosing spondylitis.”

The words tumble heavily into the room.

“What? I don’t know what that means.”

“It’s a type of arthritis,” I explain softly, wiping hard at my face. “That’s what’s been causing all the pain and stiffness.”

For a second, he just stares at me, processing what I’ve said. Then his expression shifts, and what settles across his face isn’t pity—it’s heartbreak.

“When did you find this out?”

“Monday.”

The answer visibly hits him.

“You found out on Monday?” His voice stays quiet, but there’s something underneath it now. “Kinsey…”

“I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want you to freak out about it.”

My voice cracks as I say the words.

Riley drags a hand through his hair, and I can’t tell if it’s out of frustration or concern. He looks down briefly before exhaling slowly through his nose, trying to gather himself. When his eyes lift back to mine, they’re impossibly soft.

“You went through all of this alone?”

That question hurts more than anything else somehow, because I did go through all of it alone. The MRI, the bloodwork, the rheumatologist appointment, the diagnosis. Every terrifying piece of it. Alone, by my own doing.

A weak shrug lifts my shoulder. “I didn’t want anyone to freak out until I knew what it was.” I pause, a tear escaping. “And I didn’t want you to look at me differently.”

Riley’s face contorts with pain.

“Hey.” His hand slides gently against my jaw until I finally look at him. “Nothing about this changes the way I see you.”

Emotion clogs my throat as he speaks.