Page 86 of Dirty Love

“Fucking hell. Why would he do that to me?” I mean the doctor, and I mean Grant. I mean them all, the sick, twisted fucks.

Wilson curves his hand over the top of my head, ever so gently, and kisses my forehead. “So you couldn’t have more children. So they could control you.”

And punish me. Fuck with my head.

Children.

I could have kids. “Wilson…”

~

The next thing I know, I’m lying flat on my back on the couch, and the doctor is kneeling beside me, taking my pulse.

“There she is. Welcome back, Tabitha.”

“Did I just faint?” I ask groggily.

Wilson’s face blurs into my line of sight. “Like a champ.”

I close my eyes and sigh. “Great.”

“This was a lot of information to process.” The doctor pats my hand. “What time do you move on to Denver tomorrow?”

“The bus leaves first thing.”

He hands me his card. “Then let’s follow up by phone, and I can recommend someone to do further testing when you get home to…”

“Seattle.” My stomach twists. “Not my regular doctor.”

The OB shares a dark look with Wilson, then squeezes my hand again. “No. Not that doctor. He’s not going to be treating anyone much longer.”

Once he leaves, Wilson carefully lifts me off the couch and I curl into his chest.

“So much for it being over,” I say quietly.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I was run over by an emotionally manipulative, gas-lighting Mack truck.”

He nods above my head. “Right. Stupid question. Let me try again. What can I do?”

I wriggle off his lap and hold out my hand. “Come wash my hair?”

There’s a big shower off this dressing room. It’s cold and sterile, every surface tiled, and once the water hisses to life, the splashing drops echo throughout the space.

It fits my mood to a T.

Cold. Distant. Functional.

I’m sad, but I’m angry, too.

I’m a grown fucking woman, and so little of what has happened to my body so far in this life has been on my own terms.

What happens to me now willonlyhappen on my terms.

My body.

My heart.

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