Page 12 of Entangled By You
“Uhh, he’s with another patient.” A small voice cracks with fear from the hall.
“Pierce,” I hiss, and he pushes the door back open to look at me.
“Leave the poor nurse alone. He’ll be back when he can.”
“Unacceptable,” he huffs, but lets the timid woman rush off before plopping down in the uncomfortable plastic chair I gave up on an hour ago for the cushioned exam table.
“I told you to leave.”
“I did.”
“That implied staying gone.”
“I went back to your place and grabbed your phone and bag.” He holds the offering out to me.
“Oh.”
Goddamnit, I can’t handle this from him. It was easier when he was out of my life. On the rare occasion, we’d happened to accidentally bump into each other, he’d act like I didn’t exist.
Why can’t he keep doing that?
Before the awkwardness can linger any longer, the doctor walks back in. No doubt, hurried along by the frightened nurse. I forget what the men in my life look like with the cuts on their backs, hulking frames, and endless tattoos. It’s intimidating.
“Sorry about the wait, Miss. Kane. Let’s see what we can do to get you feeling better.”
I give him the rundown on how I think it’s food poisoning or maybe the flu that’s always passing around this time of year. He nods and takes notes before explaining a couple of tests he wants to perform to double-check and ensure the treatment is correct.
“And there are no concerns of pregnancy?” he asks, the door poised half open to go grab supplies.
I choke on the stale air, my eyes flicking to Pierce in panic. He doesn’t know he’s the only guy I’ve slept with in months, and it’s been weeks since that happened. But I’m on birth control. There’s zero chance of that being the case. It’s gotta be the flu… right!?
“Uhm, I don’t think so.”
“Well, we’ll check just in case. If you’d like to follow me, I can show you where the restroom is.”
I stumble the moment my feet hit the floor, and Pierce is by my side in a flash to steady me.
“Need help to the bathroom?”
“Nope.” I keep my eyes averted and refuse to let him help me anymore tonight. It’s too much.
Dragging my feet behind the doctor, I try to remember the last time I had my period. It’s so funky these days, and I had that trip where I skipped my sugar pills, so I didn’t have to bother with it. Oh my God, what if I fucked myself over? I can’t do this.
I pinch my arm, calming the rapid worries bursting through my brain at warp speed.
“Meet me back in the room when you’re done.”
There’s no strength left in my body to acknowledge the doctor’s words as I close the door behind me.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuckedee, goddamn, fuck. The panic rises again when I sit and pee in the small plastic cup.
I do the one thing I haven’t done since I was a little girl. I bow my head and pray to a god I don’t exactly believe in. Then, I extend my pleas to the universe for an extra boost.
Please don’t let me be pregnant.
“Well, your flu test came back positive for strain A. You’re obviously dehydrated, so I want to get you some IV fluids before we discharge you.”
Every cell in my body sings in relief with his announcement. I will happily feel like I’m dying because of the flu, now that I know the other possibility—that didn’t cross my mind until the doctor mentioned it—is off the table.
