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Staying by my side, Ellister matches my slow pace, letting his hand hover by my elbow in case I fall again. “But it doesn’t say what kind of sick.”
“Because it’s none of anyone’s business. Here. Hold this, please.” I pass him my cane once I get to the golf cart, and I settle in behind the wheel.
He folds himself into the other side. When I’m about to turn the key, his hand covers mine. “You said you shouldn’t operate heavy machinery.”
I start up the cart anyway and give him a wry smile. “This hardly counts. It goes like five miles per hour. Still, though, if you see me keeling over, tuck, roll, and save yourself.”
I’m joking, of course. I would hope if that actually happened, my passenger would be able to catch me and let the cart coast to a stop.
But I temporarily forgot Ellister doesn’t seem to have a sense of humor.
“I can’t let you perish in an accident, Hannah,” he scolds. He’s so serious, so appalled.
His nose is doing that thing again, where one side is slightly higher than the other from his sneer. It creates the cutest little wrinkle above his nostril.
Overcome by amusement and the relief of my symptoms, sudden laughter bursts from me.
It’s the uncontrollable kind that quickly turns maniacal. The kind that starts with high-pitched cackles and then turns silent. The kind that produces quiet wheezes, sore stomach muscles, and tears.
And it’s amazing.
Sometime between trying to catch my breath and slapping the steering wheel, Ellister asks, “Are you plagued by insanity as well?”
Which just makes it worse.
Maybe I am going crazy. Because I can’t stop.
I hope he doesn’t get offended. I’m not laughing at him, not really. If anything, I’m laughing at myself. At the entire situation and how surreal everything has become.
His hand is still on mine. Now, normally, if a stranger got so touchy-feely with me, I’d be creeped out. ButI’mthe creep in this scenario. I want to rub myself all over him.
All. Over. Him.
“How can you be so joyful when this is happening to you?” he asks, his voice hard.
That sobers me up, and my grin slowly fades. “If I’m being honest, I think I’ve been pretty miserable to be around lately.” Bumping his shoulder with mine, I try to lighten up the moment. “It must be you. Maybe you’re the bringer of joy, because I’ve felt better since you showed up.”
He doesn’t appear pleased by my admission. Just the opposite, that nose wrinkle deepens. “I am not a joy bringer.”
Moving my hand away from his, I sever our connection to reach into my purse. “Let’s just chalk my mood up to the meds. They make me loopy sometimes. I might as well have a couple more. Party time and all.”
I shake the little container, the tablets rattling inside, before I drop a couple into my palm, then swallow them down dry.
“What are those for?” Ellister presses, going so far as to grab the bottle from my hand and read the label.
“Hey.” I snatch it back.
Never in my life have I met a man this nosy. Even Cody doesn’t pry like this, and that boy loves to know everything about everyone.
Silence stretches between us but the soft rumble of the engine creates some white noise to cut through the unidentifiable tension between Ellister and me.
Is it sexual tension? Is Ellister angry with me? Or am I just humiliated about how weak I must appear to him?
I never knew being unwell could be so embarrassing. To go from being the kind of person who doesn’t even get colds to someone who can’t walk without assistance is seriously jarring.
“Anxiety, if you must know,” I finally give in, stuffing the pills back into my purse. “But they double as an anti-seizure medication.”
“You have convulsions?”
