Page 88 of Sugar
“Stop what?”
“Looking at me like that,” I whisper. It’s too much, and I’m not sure what it is about this moment that’s making me emotional but emotion clutches at me all the same. I feel exposed. Raw.
He blows out a breath. But doesn’t say anything.
We watch Rhett ease the mare back to a careful stop. Her mane is a curtain of golden light in the dipping sun. I realize Wells is no longer here, that Kasey and I are alone. “I made a doctor appointment,” I say over the silence. “It’s in a couple of days.”
Kasey looks at me. Straightens. Clutches the fence a little tighter. “Do you want me to take you?”
When I look up at him, his expression is so confident, soearnest.If he’s disappointed in me shutting the earlier moment down, he doesn’t show it. But still . . . “Kasey, I really need you to know there isnopressure here. It’s my responsibility to take care of myself, and?—”
“Ava.”
“I just don’t want you to lean into something now that you might regret later, and?—”
“Ava.”
“—as scary as it all is, Ithinkthat I can do this?—”
“Of course you can do this,” he says, nudging into me with enough force to get me to close my damn mouth. “You’re a cowgirl, sugar. You’ve always been a cowgirl. And cowgirls don’t back down when the world starts bucking. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.” He blows out another long breath before looking out toward the setting sun. “It’s okay though, because now you have me around again to remind you.”
My blood becomes effervescent. “I’m not sure I’m really a cowgirl.”
He smiles. Leans in close enough that I can smell the soap he used in the shower this morning. And says, hot against my ear, “That hat would beg to differ.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
KASEY
The scent of lavender is so strong in this lobby that I have to fight the urge to cough. Tendrils of cool steam plume from a diffuser in the corner, tucked beneath a bushy houseplant with small string lights woven throughout. The soft sounds of crashing waves permeate the dimly lit room, and I wonder if it’s all intended to evoke a sense of calm and tranquility.
If so, it’s not working for Ava. She sits next to me, leg bouncing, fingers thrumming incessantly against the muscle of her thigh. I canfeelthe anxiety radiating off her. She’s been wound up all morning, from the second she opened her eyes. “What if she has a goose head?” she’d asked, staring up at me from her pillow, hair fanned out around her.
I ran my fingers up and down her arm in soothing rotations. “You’re going to love that little goose head with all of your might,” I told her.
“What if she has claws for hands? Not like werewolf-shifter claws, but like . . . liketalons. What if she has the feet of an eagle?—”
“Then you’ll love her little eagle feet, and we’ll make sure to keep her off the furniture.”
She frowned. “I haven’t felt her move yet. What if something’s wrong?”
“Ava,” I said gently, reaching for her face. “She’s going to be perfect. No matter what kind of head she comes out with.”
When we first walked into the office, we were greeted by a hand-painted wooden sign that readAt Your Cervixin bold red letters, and Ava seemed to relax a touch. The stout woman behind the large front desk smiled softly, asking for Ava to fill out a few intake forms, and now that she’s done with them I can see her mind at work. The longer we sit here, the more she’s spiraling all over again.
“Distract me,” she whines, slumping in her seat. “I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack.” Her words catch the attention of another woman who also must be waiting for an appointment, but she quickly looks away.
I tug her into my side. Press a kiss to the top of her head. And whisper, “Please don’tovaryact.”
She swats at me. “Kasey!”
“Shhh.” I laugh. And then she does too.
“How long have you been sitting on that?” she asks.
“About five minutes,” I say smugly.
“Ava Jones?” a petite nurse calls from an open door, clipboard in hand. She’s wearing a dark green set of scrubs with?—
