Page 62 of Hunted: Season Two

“I see.” Cautiousness cakes her voice. “And you…can’tremember if you’ve had one this month?”

I shake my head.

“Do you recall having onelastmonth?”

I reluctantly repeat the action.

“Miss Ripley,” the curly haired woman across from me slowly begins, “have you considered the possibility that you might be pregnant?”

Chapter 12

Nolan

Things I love?

Watching Rabbit dance around the kitchen and karaoke oldies from Elton John.

Cindy Lauper.

Or in today’s case, The Four Tops.

“Ohhhh,” she dramatically sings into the parmesan cheese shaker while theatrically pointing at me. “Sing with me, Mutt.”

I merely grin, shake my head, and fold my arms across my chest, amused by her captivating pre-cooking performance.

What can I say?

She really knows how to move her hips and has got good taste in music.

Typically,anyway.

Every so often she puts on shit that damn near breaks me out in hives.

Like dubstep.

Seriously.

What the fuck is that shit?

All of a sudden, The Kid enters the apartment, prompting Rabbit to redirect her singing his direction. To no surprise, he lovingly chuckles out, “Hey to you too, baby.”

She winds her container free hand around his neck, leans in a little closer, and sings another line to “I Can’t Help Myself (Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch)”, barely pausing when he does his best to sneak in kisses.

Kisses that he gives freely to her yet hasn’t to me.

Not since our spat in the hospital waiting room.

He won’t even let his fucking hand rest near mine when we’re holding her.

It isn’t until Rabbit returns to grabbing items for dinner that I warmly greet, “Hey, Kid.”

The smile he’s wearing instantly falls.

Fades into tar-filled abyss.

Is replaced by an undeniable grimace that’s followed by a barely grunted. “Hey.”

Things I hate?

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