“What happened to Mal’s dad?” Paige asked with a frown. “He’s not in the picture, I take it?”
Judy sighed. “That’s a drama for another day. Although it might explain why Mal’s still such an immature ding bat. I should’ve picked a stronger male role model for him than that asshole had been.”
My eyes widened.
“Saylor Holt?” The doctor stepped back into the cubicle and paused when she saw my audience. “Would you like some privacy to discuss the test results?”
“I…” I looked helplessly at Judy and Paige. It felt wrong for them to hear the news before Mal, but I also didn’t want to sit here alone.
“We’ll give you a minute, honey.” Judy patted my shoulder then walked around the bed I was sitting on. “I’ll go direct that useless husband of yours in this direction when he arrives.”
“And I’m going to go help Leif—I mean, Judy. Help Judy.” Paige nodded resolutely then ran through the curtain before I could grab her.
I sighed and faced the doctor. “Okay. Lay it on me.”
“You tested negative for pregnancy.”
I sighed, expecting a wave of relief that didn’t come. My emotions were all over the place, honestly. Or maybe I was just numb? I don’t know. I was definitely tired.
So tired.
He tipped his head. “You should follow up with your regular practitioner or your gynecologist, but I would say your late cycle is probably due to a mix of stress and the missed pills while traveling. It happens more often than you’d think.”
I nodded.
“And your abrasions should heal up in a few days. Like I said, the tetanus shot was just out of an abundance of caution. Better safe than, right?” He laughed weakly. “If there’s nothing else, a nurse will be by with your discharge papers.”
I shook my head. “Thank you, doctor.”
“I’m just sad I won’t be able to meet your husband. I’ve been a fan since—sorry, that’s not appropriate.” He shook his head then stared down at his paperwork, avoiding my eyes. “And again, if you experience any delayed trauma like we’d discussed, please reach out to someone. We have some excellent psychologists here. I’ll include some pamphlets in your discharge paperwork.”
“Thanks,” I whispered before shuddering as I remembered the horrifying feeling of the gun at my temple.
And then the sight of Trent’s lifeless body stretched out on the pavement.
“I hope you feel better.” He gave me a vague smile then ducked out of the curtain.
I didn’t even have time to breathe, let alone think, before I heard shouting.
“Curtain three! Where’s curtain three?” I recognized the voice, although I’d never heard that panicked tone before.
A beat later, the curtain swept aside, and Mal lumbered through, anxiety twisting his features. “Saylor, fuck. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
He crushed me to his chest without waiting for a reply, and I heard his heart thundering behind his ribs as I laid my head against him. His hands patted every square inch of my body he could reach.
“Shit, what’s this? Were you shot? I’m going to kill that fucker.” He pushed my sleeve up my arm after he felt the bandage beneath.
I weakly batted his hands away. “It’s just a scrape. I wasn’t shot.” I looked up at his panicked face and gave a little laugh. “I’m fine, Mal. I swear.”
“What the fuck happened?” He collapsed down on the bed next to me then pulled me onto his lap, wrapping his arms tight around me. “You were supposed to have security. Who took you hostage? I don’t know anything.”
I glanced at the curtain. I had medical privacy here, but I doubted that extended to conversations. And I’d had more than enough of my life splashed over the tabloids. I didn’t want to add fuel to the fire.
“Can we talk about it at home?”
“Are you shitting me? No!” Mal hollered. “My wife was taken hostage at the fucking airport. What the fuck happened? Who was it? I’m going to kill the fucker!”
I gave a harsh laugh. “You’re too late. LAPD already did the job for you. My ex is deader than a doornail. Why do they say that? How does a doornail die? Am I talking fast? It feels like I’m talking fast. My heart is pounding. Is that normal? It doesn’t feel normal.”
