I need to get back to her.
I keep my eyes on the cheap fabric surrounding me—a material that never softens and looks faded before it’s even washed. I never hated four curtain walls more in my life.
“Are we almost done here?” I ask, trying not to sound as annoyed as I feel.
After all, I do want to use this leg in the future.
The nurse glances up with an arched eyebrow. “One minute further along than when you asked sixty seconds ago.”
“Sorry,” I say, gruffly, “My girlfriend…and my baby…”
Thankfully, because it’s a small hospital, the nurse knows about Freya, too, and takes pity on me.
She gazes at me kindly. “If there was bad news, they’d have been in here to tell you.”
She goes back to her embroidery project on my thigh. My skin stings under the flicker of her needle.
“Lucky,” she mutters, “low body fat, dense muscle, oblique angle. You’d be dead if it got to your femoral artery.”
She says it like it’s a casual observation—weather, baseball, shattered femur.
I grunt something noncommittal because none of this matters. Not compared to Freya.
Just then, Rio steps in, hair disheveled in a way I rarely see him. Cold air from the hallway drifts in behind him, brushing over my overheated skin in a way I hadn’t realized I needed.
He folds his arms across his chest and studies me.
“Any news on Freya?” I ask.
I need something.
“Yeah, I asked. She’s being monitored. As far as I know, all is normal. Lara has been in with her most of the time, so she’s not alone.”
Damn. I’ve got a lot of respect for these people. Freya’s best friend didn’t even blink before coming in here, and knowing she hasn’t been alone takes the edge off the panic chewing at me.
“The baby?”
“I think no news is good news at this point.”
The nurse glances up at Rio and is noticeably struck by his appearance, as many women are. They get scared off fast when they realize his insides match those tall, dark features.
She blushes without realizing it. “That’s what I told him.”
He nods at her, and she puts her eyes back on my leg, cheeks still pink.
“You have any other intel for me?” I pick up the tiny cardboard cup of water they gave me to sip and take one. The water is lukewarm, metallic from the tap, nothing refreshing about it, but it clears the tightness in my throat.
“Yeah. You want the good news or the bad news first?”
“Good.”
He lets out a one-syllable laugh. “Funny, most people start with bad.”
I crush the cup in my hand and place it back on the table beside me. “Yeah, well, I’m trying to tap into my optimistic side. I think it will be good for our little girl. Growth mindset or something like that.”
He smirks. “Good news is that Mike confessed. He admitted to murdering twelve women.”
Jesus.Twelve women.
