Page 60 of Hide Little Traitor

The duvet rests over my legs, and he even went as far as tucking a pillow beneath my throbbing hand and aching thumb.

It’s not until he’s certain I’m warm and not about to fall apart that he finally steps away to strip out of his soaking wet suit.

He steps out of the closet in a pair of sweatpants and the same kind of T-shirt he dressed me in, and I can’t help but notice how much he’s changed from the photos I’ve seen of him.

The memory of him faded a long time ago, but he’s no longer the man he was in the photo Caroline refused to remove from beside her bed, even though she could no longer see it.

His shoulders are wider, his arms thicker and more toned. Maybe that’s how he could carry me around all night without breaking a sweat.

But the physical changes aren’t the most startling.

It’s how he carries himself. Confident and sure of every step.

A true leader.

I have a million questions. Where has he been? Why did he leave? Was he responsible for the accident like Salvatore made us believe he was?

But I can’t find the words to voice any of them.

I rest my good hand on my still flat stomach, silently promising the little bean inside me that we’re safe now.

We may have lost everything, but at least we’re free.

Kingston lowers himself to the edge of the bed, careful not to make any sudden movements that might frighten me, but I’m safe here.

I shouldn’t feel so sure of that fact, but he dropped everything to come pick me up and is risking being caught by the Lombardis every second I’m with him.

“The doctor will be here shortly. Do you want something to eat or drink?”

I shake my head. “My stomach is queasy.”

His eyes dip to my hand on my stomach, and he nods in understanding.

I don’t know if what I’m feeling is because of the baby or if it’s the adrenaline crash that never seems to end.

It’s only been a few hours since I slipped the bindings and ran for my life, so it’s possible my body is still coming down from that.

“I want to make sure you eat something before you go to sleep, but we’ll see if the doctor can give you something for the nausea.”

I nod. It’s hard to talk when your entire body trembles violently despite being warm.

The shakes didn’t start until after the shower, but I assume they’re just another part of the trauma my body and mind have been through.

There’s a knock at the bedroom door, making my chest tighten with terror, but when I lock eyes with King, his quiet reassurance keeps me rooted to the bed rather than hiding the way my mind urges me to.

“Come in,” he calls, and a moment later a middle-aged woman with mousy-brown hair steps into the room with a bag over her shoulder and some kind of machine tucked under her arm.

Kind blue eyes meet mine, and she approaches slowly, as if she’s afraid I’m going to bolt.

I probably look like a wounded animal ready to flee, but maybe she’s seen cases like mine before.

“Hi dear, I’m Christine. How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” I admit, dropping my eyes to my swollen hand.

I still can’t believe it worked, can’t believe I dislocated my own thumb to escape death.

“Well, Kingston here tells me you’ve been through a lot the last few days, so that’s perfectly normal.”