“I’m so sorry about the cramps,” Rebecca said in a voice that could have been comforting.

Desiree blinked up at her. “You don’t have to—” She tried to speak, but the effort made her head spin; she clutched at the sheet and closed her eyes, attempting to steady herself.

Rebecca lingered. “You need to drink something,” she insisted. “You’re dehydrated.”

“I’m fine,” Desiree protested, but her voice trembled with the effort and the truth was that dry mouth and the ...