Page 22 of Still Burning

The unwelcome tone of her voice made me feel bad for Nixie. The other woman didn’t flinch though, like I would have.

She smirked. “I do now.”

“Well, it ain’t ready,” Goldie said. “So, go…go somewhere else.”

I knew the two of them didn’t like Nixie, for my sake. They had both had a Nixie in the past before they married their husbands. But this was a little much. They’d never run her off before.

“Why does she have a plate then?” Nixie asked, her gaze dropping to the plate in front of me and then back at them.

“Because she helped make it,” Nina lied. “Now go on and come back when it’s ready.”

Nixie rolled her eyes and cocked out a hip, then placed a hand on it. “I think I’ll wait here. Or are you gonna pick me up and carry me out?”

Nina’s eyes flared with anger, and Goldie grabbed her arm, as if to stop her from climbing over the counter and attacking the woman.

This was getting out of hand fast—and all because of me. I started to open my mouth to say something to ease the situation when Rome came walking through the door with a scowl on his face, also directed at Nixie. Then his gaze swung to mine, and it didn’t soften, but a flicker of panic in his eyes made me tense.

What was going on?

He stalked toward me, cupped the side of my face with his hand, then pressed a kiss to my lips.

“Oh God, please. They won’t feed me, and I’m going to get nauseated faster than normal if you start that,” Nixie drawled.

Rome’s entire body tensed, and his hand went to my waist. He placed it there, as if he were holding on to me. Then he lifted his head and looked at the women across the bar. “Ladies, would you mind sending breakfast to my room for us?”

Nina nodded, looking relieved as she grabbed my plate. “Sounds like an excellent idea.”

Goldie spun around and went to get another plate. “You two run on along, and we will get right on it.”

“Let’s go, Angel Face,” he said near my ear.

I wanted to demand that he explain what was going on, but Idecided it was probably best that I did that in the privacy of his room. Standing, I glanced over at Nixie again. She was watching us with a mix of pain and anger in her eyes.

Had she been in love with Rome?

Her eyes met mine, and a smug smile curled her lips. “Is that your plan?” she asked, shifting her attention to Rome. “To keep her locked away and hope no one tells her? It’s gonna get hard, you know. Since, just thirty minutes ago, you told me in the library that you’d be there for me and the baby.”

The world around me stopped spinning. Noise silenced, except for a whooshing sound that circled inside my head. Then…it hit me. The boulder slammed against my chest, made up of agony and grief.

Eighteen Years Ago

Sitting nervously in the small room the nurse had brought me to, I twisted my hands in my lap. The glass of orange juice sat on the table beside me, and I stared at it.

When my name had been called in the waiting room, I’d stood up and then lost my balance as my vision began to tunnel. An older man behind me caught me as I started to go down. I blinked, and two nurses were taking me from the man’s arms. He told them that they needed to take me back immediately. I didn’t know him and wanted to thank him, but I was too weak.

I was placed in a wheelchair and asked if I could hold a cup, and when I nodded, a nurse handed me the orange juice. I drank half of it, and it helped some. Once they had my vitals, they had left me here and told me to lie back on the bed. But I didn’t want to lie down. I was scared I’d close my eyes and not wake up. There had been so much blood.

I shivered at the reminder of the mess I’d woken up to this morning. A pool of blood had stained the sheets and coated mythighs. I was sure I’d never been this terrified in my life. Or this alone. And that was saying a lot with the father I’d lived with until I was fifteen.

Rome hadn’t called, texted, or even shown up to see me since walking out of my dorm room a month ago. I’d made it by going through the motions. School, work, eat, sleep, repeat. My weight had dropped considerably, and I had known I needed to see a doctor, but that was intimidating. I should have gone. This was my fault. Even my wrists were too thin. They looked fragile, as if they might snap under pressure. I couldn’t blame it on morning sickness either. I’d not had that. I just hadn’t wanted food. The heaviness that weighed down on me and the hollowness in my chest were making it hard for me to simply get up in the morning and function. Much less eat.

As I reached for the glass, my hand trembled, and I dropped it back to my lap. Anxiety, fear, and heartache were all there, taking turns attacking me. Sucking any life out of me that was there. It had been a month, and there was no relief. It wasn’t getting easier. If anything, it was getting worse.

The door opened, and the nurse from earlier entered with a male doctor. He looked young to be a doctor, but his white coat suggested that he was. He gave me a warm yet sympathetic smile. I had been getting that look a lot lately.

“Miss Gray,” he said, “I’m Dr. Kent.”

I watched him walk over to stand a few feet in front of me, but he said nothing. I waited for him to tell me what was wrong with me. Why was I bleeding to death?

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