“Okay,” is all I can manage.
“Hydrate. Eat. Start a prenatal vitamin with folic acid. Avoid alcohol and NSAIDs. Rest where you can.” He glances at my arm. “Topical antibiotic for the wound is fine. If we need oral antibiotics, we’ll pick a pregnancy-safe one. Your tetanus is current, so that’s good.”
I continue to stare at him like an idiot while my brain tries to catch up to what he just said.
“Do you have any questions?” he asks.
A thousand. “If I don’t want anyone to know yet...” I drift off, not having the energy to finish the sentence.
“You control your information,” he says. “No one knows anything unless you decide to tell them.”
“Thank you.”
He stands and gathers his tablet. “We’ll order a repeat HCG for two days from now, place a referral to OB, and keep you until you’ve finished that IV and can walk without dizziness. If the redness at your wound spreads, come back for a recheck.”
Before he reaches the door, I stop him. “My sister, Clara Hewitt. I was coming to visit her.”
“I’ll look into it,” he says and slips out.
Thoughts spin inside my head: the mirror room, the ribbon, his voice at my ear, the SUV, Clara’s heart, and now a tiny bean in my belly that could be a future. Our future.
He’ll want to know, but I need to know where I stand first. His world is dangerous. Babies and danger are a horrible combination.
The nurse comes back with a tray of Saltines and ginger tea. She sets it down and says, “Doctor checked. Your sister’s resting, vitals are good.”
“Can I see her?” I ask.
“I think we can work something out,” she says with a conspiratorial smile. “Short visit. Quiet.”
There’s a knock at the door, and Alex steps in, clocking everything in the room on reflex.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Better,” I say. “Dehydration, stress. Nothing crazy.” Not exactly a lie.
Alex nods, not pushing. “Damien is en route.”
The words loosen something I didn’t know was clenching. “Okay.”
“Security has the alley and the ER covered,” he goes on. “The sedan from this morning is being processed. We’ve pulled footage. We’ll know more soon.”
“Right.” My jaw sets. Two attacks in two days is a pattern, not a coincidence. The question I don’t ask out loud isHow many more shots until one lands?
CHAPTER 26
CASSANDRA
The corridor hums. Elevators ding. I sit on the edge of the bed and listen to the sounds of the hospital—beeps, carts, nurses laughing and chatting, Christmas music playing at the nurses’ station.
More ginger tea sounds good. Staying does not.
I can’t bring a child into…this.
That thought writes itself in big letters across my brain and refuses to leave.
This isn’t just a rough patch. This is my life if I stay. Being shot at will beordinary.
I have to decide. I will leave before Damien arrives, before he walks into the room and I lose my courage. The red ribbon sits in my pocket. The diamond bracelet is still in the cupholder where Alex put it. I don’t need either anymore.
