shoulders sagged, and it was like someone had just stuck a pin in his whole alpha-male-personality bubble.
With a tired nod, he moved in the direction of the door, then paused.
"He didn't tell them," he told me in a bitter tone, "because he planned to get free and recover it himself. Blake is still out there somewhere, Brooke, and I'd bet my entire fortune he's coming to find you."
He left my room then, but his words remained hanging in the air like a goddamn prophecy. My stomach clenched painfully, and I let out a moan.
"You okay, hon?" the nurse asked in a gentle voice as the security closed the door after themselves, leaving us alone.
I shook my head. "No. I think I'm going to be sick."
The nurse, Grace, just calmly handed me a vomit bag and smoothed my hair out of the way while I emptied my guts.
"Morning sickness," she told me with a wry smile. "Stupid name for it, really. Mine had me vomiting at six in the evening, every evening for the first sixteen weeks."
I wiped my mouth with a wet cloth she handed me and sagged against my pillows. "Then what?"
She smiled. "Then nothing. One day I was sick as a dog and the next I felt incredible. Pregnancy does crazy things, and everyone reacts differently." She disposed of my vomit bag and quickly cycled through all my vitals.
"I'll get a light snack sent up for you," Grace told me as she put the blood pressure machine away and wrote down all my numbers on her chart. "Refill your stomach so you've got something to throw up again later." She shot me a wink, then left my room.
Alone for the first time since Riley had shown up in the morning, I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around myself. As much as I wanted to blame my nausea on the pregnancy, it wasn't. It was pure, unfiltered fear.
24
I dozed for a while but gave up after the shift change and another round of observations. The hospital, thankfully, had cable TV, so I was able to watch a couple episodes of Gossip Girl—which had all new meaning now that I'd met the Delta Heirs—before my door opened again.
It wasn't Dylan, though. Of course not. He wouldn't come crawling back with his tail between his legs to apologize for being an overbearing prick. Nope, I suspected that I'd be the one apologizing to him because that was just the sort of person I was.
Weak.
"Just me again," Riley said with a small smile. "Sorry, you must be so sick of me already."
I kind of was, but not because I didn't like her. I just needed some time to process inside my own head.
"No, not at all," I lied. "But... don't you have better things to be doing?"
She pulled up the same chair she'd used earlier and sat down beside my bed with her oversized designer handbag in her lap.
"No way," she replied with a grin. "I mean, yeah, there's stuff. But D-man doesn't trust anyone but us to keep an eye on you right now, and I'd rather hang out in here than lurk in the hallway like a mega-creep. Is that okay?" She reached into her huge purse and pulled out a greasy paper bag of takeout. "I brought burgers to bribe you. Hospital food fucking sucks, no matter who is donating to the board."
It was on the tip of my tongue to refuse and ask for some time to myself. But then the smell of cheeseburger reached my nose, and I groaned. That was exactly what I wanted to eat. No. No, no, no, I needed to eat that burger.
Riley took my nonverbal cue and handed over one of the paper-wrapped, glorious beasts, then propped a box of french fries on the edge of my bed.
I needed to amend my thoughts from earlier. She was definitely friend material.
That was cemented just a little further when she didn't say a word as we both inhaled our junk food. There's something to be said for a person who can exist in silence with a virtual stranger and not make it feel uncomfortable. Riley had a gift, or maybe, I was just past giving a fuck at this stage.
"Wanna watch TV?" I jerked my head toward her to see the remote in her hand. "I'm sure they're not offering the best channels, but we'll find something."
I nodded. "Yeah, the doctor sort of gave me the all clear for some light television