Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
I jerked away from him and barely bent over before I was heaving. “I’m sorry,” I gasped between waves. “Shit. I fucking hate—”
“Shhh,” he replied calmly, bracing one of his arms across my chest and rubbing my back with the other. “You’re okay. It’ll pass.”
“God,” I groaned as my stomach finally settled again. “Why are you even here?”
“Let’s get you washed up.”
“Oh no, I can do this shit on my own.”
“I’m not leaving you in here by yourself.”
“Fine.” I washed the most important areas on my body quickly, refusing to exert the extra energy for anything else, and within a few minutes I was wrapped in a towel and Shane was carrying me into my room.
“Did you really just help me take a shower?” I asked, dropping my head to his shoulder. “What the hell was that about?”
I fell asleep before he could answer, and I vaguely felt him dressing me as I faded in and out. By the time I woke up fully, Shane was once again carrying me.
“You jackass,” I said, my entire body stiffening as I realized where we were.
“You need to see a doctor,” he replied, marching through the waiting room of the ER.
“I don’t have insurance, Shane, and it’s just morning sickness.”
“Rachel was never this sick.”
“I’m not Rachel.”
“You’re getting checked out.”
“When exactly did you get a say in this?”
“When Anita called and said you were sick as shit and lying on the floor of your bathroom.”
“She’s such a fucking drama queen.”
“That’s exactly where I found you.”
“Semantics,” I mumbled as we reached the front desk.
* * *
“I still don’t understand why you’re here,” I called softly, rolling over gingerly in my hospital bed. The damn bed was so uncomfortable that I knew I’d be even more achy when I climbed back out of it.
“We’re friends,” he replied, messing with something on his phone.
He’d barely looked at me since they’d brought me back to the small room and proceeded to confirm my pregnancy. He’d left while they gave me an internal ultrasound, and had remained silent even as I caught him glancing at the images I’d conveniently left on the counter by the only chair in the room. He was restless, almost jittery, and to be honest it made my tension rise with every small movement.
“We’re not friends, Shane,” I told him seriously, making his head snap up in surprise. “We’ve got history—a shit ton of it—but we haven’t been friends in a long time.”
“I can’t leave you here alone.”
“I’ll be fine. Seriously. You need to get home to the kids. Sage is probably freaking out by now.”
“I just called her. She’s fine.”
“Well, I bet Megan is losing her mind with all those kids.”
“I just talked to her. She’s fine, too.”
“I don’t want you here,” I finally said, looking away from the shock on his face. “I’m not sure what you’re doing, but let’s be honest here, okay?”
“I’m being honest.”
“No, you’re feeling guilty or something, but you’re sure as fuck not being honest.”
“You’re being a bitch.”
“Ah, there’s the honesty,” I replied drily to cover how his words had stung. “I know you don’t want to be here, okay? You’re fidgeting and sighing and looking at your watch, and frankly, it would be easier to enjoy this glorious anti-nausea medicine if I didn’t feel like I was keeping you from wherever it is you want to be.”
“I want to be here,” he argued stubbornly.
“Why? Why would you want to be here?”
“Because you’re sick and you’re pregnant. I can’t just leave you.”
“Why is it your problem?” I stared at him, silently pleading with him to acknowledge the child in the images next to his elbow.
“I guess it’s not,” he finally said, rising from the chair.
“Are you going to just keep pretending that I got myself pregnant?” I asked tiredly, looking up into his face. “The dates are on the ultrasound prints you keep staring at. I’m sure even you can do the math.”
“I already have four kids,” he said roughly, reaching up to scratch his jaw. “With my wife.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I whispered back, feeling like I was being sliced open.
“Look, you’ve had a couple of days to process this shit, all right?” he snapped back. “I’ve had hours, and most of those hours have been spent peeling you off the floor and taking you to the hospital.”
“I’m sorry for being such an inconvenience.”
“Can you just for one fucking second give me a little space? Fuck, Kate, just give me a minute to process the shit storm that has become my fucking life!”
I nodded once, then slowly rolled until I was facing away from him.
“Right, because this is so much easier for me,” I replied flatly, refusing to look at him. “Take as much time as you want.”
I could feel his eyes on the back of my head for a long time, but I clenched my teeth and controlled my breathing until I heard him open and close the door.