“What about water?”
She holds up a glass. “You want my full hydration chart?”
I smirk, but the protective part of me doesn’t ease.
“You can lean on me, you know,” I say quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She doesn’t answer right away, just watches her thumb brush along the edge of her glass, then she meets my gaze again.
“I’m trying.”
And that’s more than enough for now.
She shifts, looking away. I know that expression on her face, that there’s more to say, but she doesn’t know how.
“What else, Havoc?”
Her legs adjust under her. “So, apparently estrogen spikes throughout pregnancy.”
“Yeah? That a hormone?”
She swallows with a nod. “It’s like… a common thing. Increased levels can spike my, uhh, my feelings. And… my needs.”
I freeze, and she blushes slightly. Fuckingblushes.
“Don’t look at me like that, I just—it’s making me really, uhh…”
“Horny?”
She groans and hides behind her hand. “Yes. That.”
There’s a beat of stunned silence in which every molecule in my body lights up like a fuse.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “So do I book the next flight right now or just suffer in silence?”
Her laugh is instant. Bright and shocked and real. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious.”
“Reid—”
“Fine, I’ll behave. But if you call me like this again and tell me you’ve been climbing the walls thinking about riding my—”
“Hutchison.”
I grin, smug and wrecked and absolutely not sorry.
“You started it,” I say. “I’m just trying to be supportive of yourneeds.”
She rolls her eyes as she makes her way through to her bedroom, but doesn’t argue, and we sit there, staring at each other through the screen for a beat. I want to reach through the fucking pixels and pull her into me. Kiss her temple. Fall asleep with her head on my chest.
“When do we—you—wanna start telling people?”
She sighs as she considers the question. “I’m not telling Moreno yet. It’s still early, and the second people find out, they’ll stop giving me real cases. That’s what happens—they act like they’re being helpful by handing me easier procedures, but it’s notreallykindness. It’s this unspoken assumption that a pregnant woman can’t keep up.”
“I get it,” I say. “You want to prove you still belong.”
“Idobelong.”
