Page 17 of Riot

“He’s gone to get some ginger tea.” Maylie winces, and her hand presses against her abdomen. “I swear, my stomach is in knots all the time. I thought morning sickness was meant to end after the first trimester.”

“Everything they tell you about pregnancy is a lie.” I move to the counter, to my daughter. I keep a healthy distance from Riot and fold my arms over my chest, waiting.

Gripping a carton of milk in one hand, my daughter secure in the crook of the opposite arm, he dips his head, his voice low as he says, “You were in the shower, and she was fussing. I didn’t want to leave the princess cryin’.”

Warmth spreads through me that he did that. “Thank you,” I say, “but next time, tell me you’re taking her. I nearly had a heart attack.”

His eyes soften. “I didn’t mean for you to freak out, darlin’.”

Our fingers scrape together as I take her from him, and I wait for disgust to ripple across his face, but there’s nothing.

How can he look at me like I’m not filthy?

Does he not see the dirt I’m coated in?

I close the door on my internal battle. I don’t have the strength to fight those voices today.

“Sorry. I thought she’d sleep longer.” I hold Seren to my chest, the tension seeping from me now that she’s back in my arms.

“You okay?” There’s concern lacing his words, worry I don’t deserve.

I duck my head, willing him to not pry.

“Of course.”

He doesn’t back off. “You’re sure?”

“I’m fine.” I snag the coffee mug from his hand, taking a small sip before I hand it back to him.

He stares at me, his brow flicking up as his lips do the same. “Thirsty?”

My chest loosens. This banter between us is familiar ground. Safer too. I don’t know how to explain how I feel, and I don’t want to try.

“I only wanted a little sip.”

He shakes his head, and my fingers twitch to push back his hair. “What a rude little thing you are,” he murmurs. “I would’ve made you one if you’d asked.”

There’s nothing unusual or different in the way he talks to me, but the staccato thud of my heart is dizzying. There’s no hate or disdain, just amusement.

Maybe I’m not worthless.

“I can only have one cup a day,” I say. “Microdosing works better.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “That’s a new one.”

I shrug before I take a seat at the table, aware of his eyes following me. My skin feels warm and prickles with awareness, until I notice my sister.

Maylie’s eyes are closed as she breathes deep through her nose, like she’s barely hanging on.

“Are you okay?”

She makes a noise in the back of her throat before she says, “Nauseous.”

I can sympathise. “Do you need me to get you anything?”

“Can you fast-forward time so I’m holding my baby and morning sickness is a distant memory?”

“Sorry. I wish I could.”

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