South Main and Gentry by A.D. Ellis & Declan Rhodes

Author:A.D. Ellis & Declan Rhodes [Ellis, A.D. & Rhodes, Declan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-01-21T18:00:00+00:00

12

Tanner

I woke very early the next morning. My hands were on autopilot, scratching. When I opened my eyes, I saw an angry red rash on the tops of my hands and my forearms. Stumbling to the bathroom, I looked in the mirror and spotted a small, rashy patch of itchiness on my neck.

I immediately called Mitch on speakerphone as I ran my hands and arms under cold water. The relief wasn’t enough. Why Mitch was the first person I thought to call wasn’t something I wished to ponder.

Mitch’s voice was scratchy, and he was still groggy when he answered. “Tanner? What time is it? What’s wrong?”

“I need you to come over. Now.” As we spoke, I studied the rash on my arms before dragging my nails against the skin. “I mean it. Now.

“I told you I’d get the morels split up fair and square. I’ll bring you your half later this morning.” Mitch cleared his throat and groaned. “But I didn’t mean five in the morning. Damn, are you that eager to get started cooking?”

“This isn’t about the damn mushrooms, Mitch!” I stalked from the bathroom and threw myself on my bed. “Something is wrong—very wrong—with me.”

My anguished self-assessment got Mitch’s attention, and he agreed to come right over.

I met the sleepy man at the door twenty-five minutes later. He held a mug of coffee in one hand, and worry furrowed his brow. Mitch’s hair was still wet from his shower. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve got some sort of rash.” I shoved my hands out to him. “It’s all over my hands and arms. There’s even a spot up here on my neck. It itches like nothing I’ve ever felt before.” I shook my hands and shoulders as if I could throw the rash off my body. “It’s like my skin’s on fire—it’s stinging and itching so bad that I want to take a damn potato peeler to my arms and peel the first three layers off in hopes of making it stop.”

Mitch opened his eyes wide. “Oh, shit.”

“Oh, shit? Is that all you can say? I show you a deadly rash, and you respond with, oh, shit? Your bedside manner sucks!” I continued scratching and ignored my inborn tendency toward melodramatic behavior.

“Sorry.” Mitch winced. “It looks like poison ivy. You probably got it from the woods yesterday. Did you shower when you got home?” He held my hands in his and examined the rash.

“Yes! You creeped me out talking about ticks, so I stripped off my clothes right inside the door, threw them in the washer, and jumped in the shower.” I shuddered. “I started itching before bed, but I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me, making me think ticks were crawling on me.”

“The best thing you could have done was shower—with plenty of soap. It washes away the oil that causes the itchy reaction.” Mitch grimaced. “Sorry, I don’t get poison ivy, so I didn’t think about mentioning it. I can roll around in a patch and not get a rash.

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