“Are you listening to anything I’m saying?”
“I heard you.” She lifted her shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “We’re just friends.”
“Whatever you say.” Letting it go, I gave her a genuine smile. “I’m happy to have you close again, Faith. After what happened at the house, I don’t have a good feeling…” I trailed off as the doors swung open, and a young doctor with tanned skin and straight white teeth walked in.
“Miss Ryan, I presume?” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Dr. Thomas. I see you were brought in with some pain.” Overwhelmed, I simply nodded. “From your test results, it looks like dehydration has caused Braxton Hicks contractions. I checked your admittance exam notes and, thankfully, you’re not dilated.”
My head swam. “I haven’t had a chance to attend child birth classes. Braxton Hicks?”
He scratched his forehead with his pen. “Call it false labor. Have you been under any unusual stress lately?”
I shot faith a warning glance. “A little. But the pain stopped. That’s good, right?”
“For now, yes. But you’re also twenty-seven weeks. You have to keep your stress level low and start taking better care of yourself if you want to make it to your due date.”
Faith’s hand gripped mine. He continued, but I’d tuned him out by that point, concentrating only on Faith’s hands as she dug into her pocket once more, her brow furrowed.
He patted one of my legs. “Just try to rest. We’ll keep you for observation overnight.” He turned to Faith, studying her carefully. “And you are…?”
Faith interjected before I could open my mouth. “Her sister.”
Shrugging, he exited the room as quickly as he’d entered. As the door closed, I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.
“Sister, huh?”
Her eyes widened as she walked toward the door. “Meh, we could be. I got all the good genes in the family, though.” I threw a pillow at her head as she opened the door. “Behave yourself,” she warned. “I’m going to make a phone call.”
As the room silenced, I focused on the rhythmic bleep of the fetal heart rate monitor vibrating in my ears like a well-orchestrated symphony. Thank god Julian was gone. With publicity interviews and an upcoming tour, people constantly pulled him in twenty different directions. Judging from his trip wire mood before he left, he currently balanced on a ready to snap mode.
Julian didn’t need the stress of knowing what happened. Faith wouldn’t tell him, not with the shit I had on her and Zane. I’d threaten her within an inch of her life to keep quiet.
I told myself the omission of truth protected him, but I knew it was to protect myself.
If I didn’t speak of it, it wasn’t true.
Elisabeth Cayden didn’t die by the same hand that butchered me three years ago.