Page 60 of Hunted: Season Two

Grumbles of disapproval aren’t easy to speak over, yet I do. “What about your parents? Did they look for her? Are they? Are they even alive?”

“No.” Ignoring the coldness in his tone is impossible. “They died forever ago.”

“Accidents? Old age? Medical conditions we should worry you have?”

“Murder suicide.”

“Fuckin’ seriously?!” The Kid croaks.

“What?!”leaves me in a squawking fashion. “When?! How old were you?!”

“Eighteen.”

“How could you not tell me that?!” our boyfriend discreetly barks.

“Wasn’t important.”

“How is that shit not important?!” he hisses again. “You know practically everything about me!”

“Fine.” Nolan calmly retracts. “It.Wasn’t. Relative.”

“Why are you the only one who gets to make that fucking call?!”

“Kid-”

“Why is everything and anything I do and anyone and everyone I know a look under my fucking hood matter while you never hit the pop trunk button.”

“Kid-”

“How can you say shit like you want me to have your last name when it’s clear I don’t even know who the fuck you are?!”

“Kid-”

“Ripley,” calls out a bright pink scrub wearing round woman from the opposite end of the room. “B. Ripley.”

A large, theatrical wave is given to indicate she’s been heard to which she enthusiastically waves me to the back area. I drop my pen into my purse and rise to my feet; however, the instant that I do, my two men attempt to follow forcing me to insist, “No. You two wait out here. It’ll look less suspicious.”

Two sets of objections rush my way only to be ignored.

I mean…itwilllook less suspicious, but I also need a moment alone.

A moment to do somethingfor meon my own.

And they…they clearly need a moment to sort through the shit I didn’t mean to accidentally kick up.

Nurse Minnie Marlowe escorts me to a patient room down the hall, making flattering conversation about my outfit the entire way. Once we’re inside, we go over a few basic questions I didn’t get to on the form as well as the purpose of today’s visit. Our time together is brief and thankfully, my wait to see the doctor herself is even shorter.

The honey-pecan skinned white coat wearing female who enters the room fills me with relief and jealousy alike.

I know it’s wrong, but I’m grateful the guys are stuck in the lobby.

This woman is too pretty to be a fucking doctor.

Which is an asinine thing to think.

But like…still.

She is.

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