Page 55 of Thorns That Bloom
“Alright.” Theo’s voice remains steadfast, controlled. That’s what he’s doing—taking control over the situation. Not having to do that for myself right now is exhilarating. He keeps talking while closing the plastic containers and placing them back in his backpack. “I get it. You’re stressed. It’s a lot. Would you…would you like me to come with you?”
I raise my brows in shock. “Come with me?” I mouth.
“You know, to the appointment. For-for moral support.” He tilts his head with a smile that tries to hide the insecure undertone of his voice. “I mean, this can’t be easy to do alone. If that’s…”
Going there always makes me feel inadequate.
I know the doctors don’t care. I know it’s normal for people to go to these appointments without their partner, andthat I don’t need another person to do this, but seeing those affectionate couples in the waiting room, all giddy to share that experience together, sometimes leaves me feeling utterly empty and wrong. More times than not. I try to be strong for my child, but I can’t just push those emotions aside.
Definitelynot today.
“Y-yeah.” I swallow the lump in my throat, hardly believing what I just said. “I’d like that.”
Even Theo’s face is painted with surprise. “Alright,” he says, recovering quickly. “How about I go tell your office manager that you need to leave while you wait in the car?”
Somewhere deep inside, a primitive part of me gets roused by the way he takes control in such a caring, assured way. An alpha protecting his omega. Doing what needs to be done.
Before I can be disturbed by how easily a ridiculous thought like that popped into my head—a thought that has to be nothing but raging pregnancy hormones—I hear Theo open the door to the balcony. He stands in the doorway, waiting for me to get myself together while gently gesturing for me to come.
I do, my heart still beating against my increasingly cramped rib cage. “What about you?” I ask as we head back, feeling a little dazed.
“My shift doesn’t start for another hour and a half. Don’t worry,” he says it like it’s great news, but…why did he come so early? Just to eat lunch with me?
Yeah. That’s exactly why.
Does a friend…really do something like that?
I don’t have the time or energy to bother myself about thatagain. Nor do I want to argue with the one person who’s capable of helping me not to crumble right now.
Somehow, I get to my car.Very slowly, considering my trembling legs, coupled with the increasingly heavier body and smaller lungs. I think that’s why Theo sent me ahead—because he knew that by the time I waddled here, he’d be done in the office and on his way down.
Taking deep, controlled breaths, I stare at the wheel under my hands, trying to make sense of everything happening.
My mind feels nearly as volatile as it did shortly after the assault. At certain points, it was like a warzone I couldn’t navigate. A place I could not make sense of. Thoughts and feelings and memories and shadows danced around me as I stood helplessly in the eye of that storm. No solace, not ever. Just chaos interspersed with terrifying moments of complete and utter numbness.
I jolt when Theo knocks on the passenger-side window. With my hand over my heart, I unlock the door.
“Sorry,” he says, drawing his brows together apologetically.
“It-it’s fine. I was zoning out.”
“Kyle said it’s okay. He understands.”
“Good,” I whisper.
Theo says nothing else as he opens the door and slides into the seat. With the radio volume too low to even make out what is playing, Theo and I are silent and still. There’s a strong sense of déjà vu, and judging by the way Theo twiddles with his scarred finger in my peripheral vision, I’m not the only one experiencing it.
It doesn’t take very long for him to start messing with theradio. When he settles on a station where a song he clearly knows is playing, he hums along to it, rocking slightly from side to side.
I’m reminded of his karaoke performance and feel the same wave of awe I did back then. Just by sharing his own gift, it was like he made a mockery of everyone else. Theo’s voice sounded surprisingly different when he sang. Still him, but in a completely new, otherworldly way. He’s not singing now, but it’s like the vibrations of his humming are working their way beneath my skin, into my bloodstream. It’s calming, and he doesn’t even mean it to be.
We’re almost at the hospital when I finally feel the panic fully leave me. I can breathe without that horrible sensation of something pushing me off the edge, but that clarity of mind only makes me think about how bizarre this is. Him being here with me, coming for the checkup.
What am I doing?
I keep asking myself that.
I ask myself that as we get out of the car.
