Page 37 of Ruthless

My gaze roams around the waiting room to keep from meeting him in the eyes. The less I look at him, the better for me. Besides the two of us, there are only a handful of women here. The one that’s a few rows over catches my gaze and offers me a small smile before her eyes shift onto Zane. There’s no missing the lust that suddenly fills them, and my back stiffens against my seat. The nerve of her to check him out right in front of me. My hands ball into fists, but I remain quiet.

When I look at Zane, he isn’t even paying her any attention. His entire focus is on her swollen belly, with a pinched expression marring his face. Since I’ve met him, this is the first time he seems lost, out of place.

I take pity on him and slide my hand off my lap until I find his and interlace our fingers together. The roughness of his touch is like a balm to my nerves. It keeps me grounded to know that he’s here with me. I give him a gentle squeeze, and he only hesitates for a split second before his warm hand squeezes mine back. The rest of the tension leaves his body, and just for a moment, things between us aren’t so strained. We’ve found a sort of truce for the moment. It turns out that doesn’t last long.

“What the feck are you doing here?” Rory’s voice is calm and quiet behind me, which means he’s feeling anything but.

I drop Zane’s hand and go to stand, but Zane gets there first. He plants his body right in front of me, leaving me no choice but to stay seated.

“You spoke with Connor.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“I don’t like it.” Rory shakes his head.

“Not up to you.” Zane squares his shoulders and glares at my brother.

A muscle jerks in Rory’s cheek as the hands at his sides clench into fists.

My heart pounds in my throat. If I don’t do something soon, there will be a brawl in the middle of this tiny room.

“It’ll be okay, Ror. We need to talk,” I assure him.

“Remember. Say the word,deirfiúr.” He glances my way before shooting Zane one last look and spinning on his heels to head out the door.

I sink deeper in my chair as that’s one obstacle down—however many more to go.

We get a few minutes of reprieve before they call me back. Zane isn’t as tense as he was when he first got here, but that didn’t last long. He tried to come back into the bathroom with me to watch me pee in a cup. I put my foot down on that. That was not happening—ever. After I did my business and left the cup with my name on it, I thought the worst of it was over. I was wrong.

Now, we’re back in the room waiting for the doctor, and things are just as silent and awkward as they were in the truck with Rory. I’m sitting on the edge of the table, swinging my legs back and forth, to keep warm since I’m in nothing but those lovely paper gowns they give you. At least I got to keep my socks on.

The paper underneath me crinkles with every move I make as I swing my legs back and forth. I pretend to read the posters on the wall that are a road map of my internal lady parts and fight the urge to laugh from the awkwardness of my current situation.

Zane is standing next to me with his arms crossed over his chest, taking in the room. His dark eyebrows pinch together as he studies those same images on the walls. I’d give anything to know what’s going through his head.

“What are those?” He points with his chin at the gadgets of death outside my ankles. At least that’s what I like to refer to them as.

“Those are stir-ups.” I let out a sigh as memories of how much I loathe them flash through my mind.

“And what goes in there?” His dark eyebrows scrunch together as he stares at them like they might jump out and bite him. If he only knew.

“My feet.” My lips twitch with the urge to smile as I meet his blank stare.

The expression on his face is priceless right now. I open my mouth to explain further because he looks so lost. Things I will address later. Much later, when I’m alone, but before I can dwell on why, there’s a knock on the door.

The knob turns a moment later, and in walks the doctor, clutching my chart in his hand. He’s wearing dark blue scrubs with a white lab coat over the top of them.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Rourke.” A smile spreads across his face that lights up his dark brown eyes, and I’m immediately put at ease. There’s no hint at his actual age other than the flecks of silver mixed in with his short dark hair.

“Hi, I’m Kennedy.” I smile and nod back, letting the last bit of nerves leave me.

His head swings in Zane’s direction, and he’s pretty much at eye level with him. “And you must be dad.”

Zane clears his throat and pushes his shoulders back, giving him his undivided attention. He’s polite, but I can see him figuring Dr. Rourke out. It’s a habit I’ve picked up on. He does whenever he meets someone new.

“I am.”

His warm smile stays in place as he holds his gaze. If he’s picking up on any tension between us, he isn’t letting on. Instead, he’s professional and confident—everything I want in a doctor.

He goes through a series of questions and jots notes down in my chart as I answer. Zane remains where he is, pressed up by the wall and no doubt committing everything I say to memory.

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