A Very Venom Christmas - Kristine Allen Page 0,17
your colors to recognize you. You’re the president of the Royal Bastards in Iowa. That’s pretty significant.”
He was right, but I wasn’t going to admit it.
“Let me deal with that.” I rarely pulled the technically-I-outrank-you shit, but I wasn’t going to answer to him. Friend or not.
“Roger that,” he replied, a little tighter than he’d sounded before. It told me that I’d offended him, though he’d never admit it.
“Anyway, I’m only a few miles out of town. I’ll see you soon.”
He sighed. “Love you, bro,” he said.
He made me feel like a dick. I shoved the feelings down, because goddamn it, I’d earned my position in my club. I was the top of the motherfucking food chain. “The feeling’s mutual. Thanks, I appreciate you, brother.”
“I told you. Anytime.”
We ended the call, and I drove the last few minutes in silence.
My internal debate continued as to whether I should check on her personally like I told Grams I would or be satisfied with what Snow could find out. Unfortunately, I knew what would happen if I stopped by to see her.
A coward I was not, but one feisty little woman had me questioning where my fucking balls were.
“A Little Bit Off”—Five Finger Death Punch
Two things were on my calendar for the day. Both were equally unpleasant but in very different ways. One was Kelvin’s incarceration anniversary date—yes, I tracked it—the other my coochie doctor appointment.
“Ms. Barnes? We’re replacing your Mirena today, correct?” the doctor said with a kind smile as she came in the room followed by the nurse. I nodded. “Okay, if you’re ready, you can lie back.” She gave me further instruction, which I followed since I’d done this before.
She seemed to be all up in my hooha for a long damn time.
“Ms. Barnes, when was the last time you checked for placement?” she asked from down in my personal area. Eye contact would’ve been nice.
“Uh…” I had to think. I usually checked for it after my period ended, but my periods had become infrequent, and I’d had a lot going on over the last few months. I couldn’t remember. “It’s maybe been a few months,” I admitted apologetically.
“I can’t seem to locate the threads.” She continued to work down there while she asked me a bunch of other questions. Then she did look up and narrow her eyes at me. “Wait… you answered ‘no’ to sexual intercourse on your questionnaire.”
“Well, it was only once.” My checks flamed. Not because I was uncomfortable discussing sex, but because I was remembering that time in detail. Weird when my doctor had been all up in there.
Instead of chewing my ass, she chuckled softly. “Well, we need to do a pregnancy test then. I’d advise some tests for sexually transmitted infections as well. The only reason we didn’t do one when you got here was because you said you hadn’t been sexually active.”
“Well, I really wasn’t. It was only one time.” Well, one night and several times.
“You do know it only takes once to get pregnant,” the doctor said with a cocked brow.
“But he was older,” I argued.
The doctor laughed, then asked “Was he dead?”
“Of course not!” God, did she think I was a sicko?
“Then you can still get pregnant. Men do experience a decrease in sperm count and motility as they age, but it’s not unheard of for an older man to impregnate a woman. It would appear you lost your IUD at some point. Let’s start with the tests.” She covered my lady bits up with the paper sheet and stood up to peel off her gloves.
“I mean, I guess he’s not that old. Just older,” I clarified as she washed her hands.
She raised her brows. “Well, then let’s get those tests out of the way.”
That’s how I found myself peeing in a cup as my stomach bottomed out and my heart stuttered.
When she came back in, she had a printout and a friendly but slightly concerned smile. She took a deep breath before she shattered my world, and with it, my sanity.
“We won’t be able to replace your Mirena.”
Confused, I frowned at her. I asked the question, but I already knew the answer. “Why not?”
“Because you’re pregnant,” she explained as if she was talking to a simpleton. For a second, I stared at her, trying to make sense of what she was telling me. I didn’t feel pregnant in the least. There had to be a mistake. Then I started laughing.
My laughter ended in an unladylike snort. “You almost