was no pretending he wasn't interested, that was for sure. He strolled a little closer, and just as I was starting to pant a tiny bit, he detoured straight to the walk-in closet. When he emerged a minute later, he was dressed, and I was both horny and disappointed. But it was a hundred percent the right thing to do.
I couldn't have sex in my current condition, and making out was just the worst kind of teasing.
"You're driving me crazy," he murmured as he reached my side. "You gotta get that look off your face because I can't love it off like I normally would."
Leaning over, he scooped me up, very gently, to place me in the center of the bed, then pulled the blankets over me and brushed some of my hair off my face. "You need to rest, at least until the doctor gets here and can assess how you're doing."
I wanted to argue—I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts. My head was a hot mess with all of the death and loss in the last few days, but Dylan was right. "Do you have any books? Or a television?"
He leaned over the bed and pulled open a side table. Inside was a small black device, and when he hit a button, a massive screen descended from the ceiling at the back of the room.
"We have all the streaming apps. Hopefully, you'll find something to watch."
I looked down at the control he’d handed me and had not a freaking clue how to use it, but admitting to that weakness right now might just make me seem needy, like I was making excuses to keep him around. So I just smiled and tightened my hand around it. "Great. Can you let me know when the doctor gets here?"
His face was unreadable; even his eyes gave nothing away. "Of course. I'm just gonna go grab some food. I'll check in on you again soon."
We were awkward, neither of us knowing what the fuck to do now or how to talk to each other without addressing the multiple massive elephants in the room. I hated it. Hated it so much that I felt sick and wondered if I was about to vomit up all the delicious food I’d just eaten.
Stomach cramps sent fear shooting through me, but I managed to wait until Dylan was out the door before I pressed my hands to my center, trying to slow my breathing. I had to stay calm for my baby. I had to do everything in my power to ensure this pregnancy was viable. The broken ribs would heal, along with the bruises; I'd had enough pain in my life to know that.
But something told me the loss of my child—before I even came to grips with the idea of being a mother—would hurt like hell.
Fear sent me out of bed and into the bathroom. Thankfully, there were no signs of bleeding, so after washing my hands and face, I crawled back into bed. There was no way I could figure out the projector remote, so I set it aside and closed my eyes.
I was exhausted, no denying it, so without too much effort I drifted off into a pretty decent nap. Apparently, my body was done and just needed some uninterrupted time to sleep. No one woke me, and when I opened my eyes, I had no idea how much time had passed but actually felt a lot better. That might have been one of the only sleeps in years I hadn’t spent half awake anticipating an attack.
Taking my time, I stretched out my limbs, pleased that the ache in my side felt a little less intense. I was still on pain relievers, but the last dose would have run low by now—which meant my ribs were healing pretty well. My face, on the other hand, was worse, stiff and swollen—I’d gotten a decent smack in the face, thanks to those fucking fucks. They were dead now though, so I could count us even.
There was a knock on the door, and when I called out for whoever it was to come in, Dylan entered. "Doctor is here," he said shortly. "I just wanted to make sure you were awake."
Pushing myself up on the pillows, I nodded, rubbing my face. "Yep, send the doctor in. I'm ready."
He called out to someone, then strolled in and settled himself against a nearby wall. His arms were crossed, face set, and I was a