Page 19

My attempt at humor falls flat like roadkill.

“You think it’s something else other than my epilepsy?”

The doctor rocks her head. “Yes, and no. Seizures can be triggered by extreme fatigue, dehydration, and stress, and your results suggest you could be anemic. Not a good combination, especially if you’re playing back-to-back concerts on a few hours’ sleep.”

“Okay…” I drawl. “So what do we do? Up the meds? Iron tablets?”

Talia is trying so hard to keep her mouth shut, she’s close to bursting a blood vessel. If I spend another day in the hospital, Howard and the label are going to blow a gasket. There’s supposed to be a second show in Santa Clara tonight, and unfortunately, the show cannot go on without me.

“Do you want my honest opinion, Tate?” the doctor asks.

Not really. “Sure.”

“You’re burned out. Mentally and physically. It seems you’ve been burning the candle at both ends for a long time and there isn’t any wick left. Your body is trying to tell you to slow down, and with the added stress from your seizures, it’s pleading for you to take your foot off the pedal.” She taps her pen on the chart. “Yes, we can try to up your iron, ensure you take your medication, and hope for the best, but there’s another way you can tackle all this.”

“And that is?”

Talia scoffs like the answer is obvious. The industry has trained me so well I am oblivious to the alternative option until the doctor drops it in my lap.

“A break. Not a couple of days; an actual break. Give your body time to recuperate.” The doctor smiles knowingly. “I’ve treated enough touring stars to know you won’t take that advice on board…”

My mind floats away with the possibility.

Howard would lose his shit if I asked for more time off. How dare his favorite monkey stop dancing. I’m contractually obligated to finish the tour.

But if it were possible, Vanessa would know, and if she can make it happen, it could give me more than a two-week vacation. And I know just the place to recover—with the stubborn woman who refuses to hold eye contact with me for longer than ten seconds, but also can’t drag herself away from my bedside.

If I’m able to recover in Tennessee, maybe we can…

Ding, goes the lightbulb.

“Let’s do it, doc. What do we need to do?” I sit up, ignoring my sore body as a fire stokes underneath me. “Do you have to write me a note or something, citing your medical opinion I should pull out of the tour?”

Her eyes pop wide, clearly not used to her patients taking his advice. “You want to cancel the tour?”

“We’re nearly finished, and if my health is on the line, yeah.” My gaze drifts to Talia, who, from the perplexed look on her face, also can’t believe what she’s hearing. “I hate to let down my fans, but there are more important things at risk right now.”

Like my marriage.

The doctor blinks her surprise away. “Then yes, I can offer my medical opinion.”

“How long would you suggest?” I make a face, hoping she gets the hint.

“Ah, well, a month minimum, but I’d recommend regular checkups with your local doctor regarding the low iron, as well as ensuring your epilepsy and irregular rhythm are monitored. Two to three months would be ideal.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

“We wouldn’t usually do that, but I can make an exception. You probably don’t need reminding, but you’ll be suspended from driving.” Shit. I’d actually forgotten. “Can I ask where you’ll be recovering?”

Smitten with my plan, I school my face when Talia aims her curious frown my way.

“Somewhere familiar.” It takes all my willpower not to watch her reaction. “And I think the best place is at home, in Tennessee. With my wife.”

Turns out, I’ll be returning to Iris Meadows a lot sooner than I thought.

EIGHT

TALIA