I should know better by now not to read any of those gossip sites, but ever since I made news with Seth, I keep tabs on what’s being whispered about town. I don’t want to be caught off guard again.
Sighing, I try to figure out my next steps as I toss another used tissue in the direction of the trashcan. The front door opening jogs me from my current despair. I tighten my robe and hope my sickness will cover my red-rimmed eyes, which I’m certain are prominent.
“Bella! What are you doing home so early?” Angela pulls off her gloves, shakes off the snow, and hangs her winter coat in the closet.
“Emmett kicked me out and said I needed to stop infecting everyone.” I sniff.
“Oh, no. What have you got?” She pulls off her boots, placing them on a mat near the door.
“The crud. My throat is killing me. My head is pounding. My ears aren’t right. I alternate from a stuffy to a runny nose, depending on how I lay on the couch. It’s just a matter of time before I’m hacking up a lung.”
“Have you eaten anything?” Angela glances toward the kitchen at the mess I’ve left behind.
“I tried to eat some soup, but I can’t taste a thing.”
Angela comes over and puts her cool hand on my forehead. “Have you taken any medicine?
“A couple of ibuprofen. They are probably keeping my fever at bay, but I ache all over.”
Especially my heart, but I can’t tell her that.