Page 69 of Hunted: Season Two

Has she had any?

Is that what the extra desire to shift our gears has been about?

Her sudden odd drive to get things cleaned and organized?

Crying in a bubble bath when she’s convinced herself that she’s completely alone?

Holy fuck!

It is, isn’t it?!

“I can email over some informational material regarding next steps such as prenatal vitamins, changes to your diet, and what you can expect in the coming weeks as well as a couple of OB/GYNs I recommend for this portion of your health.Again– if you choose to continue this pregnancy.”

Instinct has me preparing to scream out that shedoeswant to…thatwe do…yet Nolan’s fingers flexing wordlessly warns for me to keep my mouth shut.

That this is one of those cases we don’t answerfor her.

No matter how much we want to.

GMC knowsI fucking want to.

“That would be…” Bunny slowly begins causing all of time to temporarily feel as though it’s gone completely still. “Um…” My best friend squeezes my shoulder tighter to prevent me from interjecting. “Good.” A small bite of her bottom lip is taken. “I uh…I think.”

Shethinksgetting more information would be good or she thinks having our baby is?

Why isn’t she more sure?

More excited?

“I’ll send the material to the email address on fileandupload it to the patient portal you registered for to guarantee you have copies of these results and easy access to me or any other information you may need,” Dr. G politely expresses. “I understand how these results can be overwhelming, so if you have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask whether that be now or later, okay?”

She nods in spite of the medical professional not being able to see her.

“That goes for all of you,” announces Garcia’s sister.

“Thank you,” I loudly proclaim prompting Nolan to remove his grip.

“Appreciate it, Val.”

Our eyes instantly cut to Rabbit who struggles to simply smile as the call is ended.

Afterward, he drops his phone thoughtlessly onto the table, mouth sealed shut in an obvious refusal to speak until she does.

But she doesn’t.

She hardly moves.

If it weren’t for the fact that I can see her chest rising and falling, part of me would wonder if she was even fucking breathing.

Studying her every little twitch reminds me of the way I run a diagnostic test.

How tedious it is, yet necessary.

Making major judgements without all the information isn’t helpful.

For anyone.

“I’m sorry,” Bunny abruptly whispers from behind the fingers now cupping her lips.

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