"Soon. We need to make a quick stop first."
Her eyes open. "Beau, I swear to God, if you're taking me anywhere that isn't directly toward hot water or food…"
Reaching over, I give her knee a reassuring squeeze, but she gives me a look that says her trust is rapidly diminishing before she closes her eyes again.
"It's on the way. Trust me. I’ll have you home soon."
32
LISA
When the truck stops and the engine dies, the sudden quiet wakes me. My head is against the window, neck stiff, and I’m curled up into a ball with my knees to my chest.
Beau’s staring at me with an odd look, his shoulders bunched up around his ears.
Sitting up, I stretch and squint through the windshield at an unfamiliar building, a house, but on a street of mainly shops and small businesses. A porch light glows over the entrance, and a car sits in the driveway. The medical practice sign that’s currently off is half hidden by a climbing rose beside the entrance.
I twist in my seat, not recognising the area and immediately on high alert. "Where are we?"
Beau shifts in his seat to face me, a rare look of uncertainty on his handsome features. He runs a hand over his thick, dark stubble, and looks toward the door in front of us. "My sister-in-law's clinic. Leila. She's mated to my older brother, Marcus. And she's a doctor."
Rubbing my eyes with the heel of my hand, I frown, my sleepy brain slow to put the pieces together. It’s been a long twenty-four hours, and apparently, Beau wants to make it even longer.
"You want me to see a doctor already? I haven't even taken a test yet."
Stubbornness mixed with utter exhaustion is urging me to dig in my heels and refuse to budge. Pulling my jacket tighter against the cold seeping through the glass, I stare at the house like it’s some kind of trap. My teeth catch my bottom lip, and my pulse kicks up, nerves replacing the drowsiness.
"We haven't even talked about any of this, Beau. About us. About what happens next."
I like a take-charge guy, but I’m feeling vulnerable and scared, and I’m not even sure I’m ready for any of this. There are so many words being casually thrown around that I know nothing about.
"I know." He reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and I instinctively lean into the contact. "But I figured you'd want to know if it's even true before we delve into all that."
Reluctantly, I have to admit, he's right. There's no point getting into any of the details when I'm still not convinced there's anything to worry about. Part of me is still clinging to the idea that my world isn’t really about to be turned upside down. That it’s all just a big joke.
"And Leila's like me, but she treats humans and shifters, and humans that have ended up with shifters." He gives me a look that's almost sheepish as he shifts in his seat. "She can tell you anything you want to know. Whatever you say to her is private and confidential, and she's mostly impartial."
It is a good idea. Thoughtful, even. If I wasn’t so tired, I’d probably appreciate the gesture, so I suck it up and square myshoulders. There’s no point burying my head in the sand. It’s time to find out what I’m dealing with here.
My hand covers his giant one that’s resting on my knee, and I squeeze once, before unbuckling my seatbelt. "Okay. Let's do this."
Once she sees us walking up the driveway, a pretty brunette opens the front door in a soft lounge set and reading glasses, takes one look at the state of us, and steps aside without a word.
"I promise, I'm normally more professional than this, but I didn't have time to get dressed." Leila waves a hand over her outfit and presses her lips together, visibly refraining from asking why we look like we've been through hell.
"Are either of you hurt?" she asks, already pulling on a white coat and tying her dark hair back as she leads us down the hallway.
"No." I glance at Beau, unsure whether that’s actually true. He did get shot. A lot. "Or at least, not anymore."
My fingers brush against Beau's as we walk, needing his comfort. I pull back quickly, unsure of what's appropriate between us here, in his sister-in-law's clinic.
He catches my hand confidently and holds it, his thumb rubbing circles on the back, and some of the tightness in my chest eases. I know him. He’s a good man. I’m going to be okay.
Leila gestures us into an office and flicks on the overhead light.
Squinting, I take in the room. There’s an examination table, an ultrasound machine, and framed certificates on the wall beside a child's drawing of what is either a horse or a very oddly proportioned dog.
"Leila, this is Lisa, my... eh... mate." Beau stumbles over the word, and Leila looks at him, then at me, eyes wide, a knowing smile spreading across her pretty face.
