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If I admitted that I’d lied, they would know that I was more upset about this than I was letting on. And I’d really rather make it through this day without having to worry about their feelings, which is what I was wont to do.
“Did you get the sperm sample taken care of?” Hoyt asked, sounding tired.
I inwardly cursed, because that fucking smirk of hers. Her lips tipped up at the corner, her eyes sparkled, and I wanted to bend her over the goddamn hospital bed we were now a few feet away from and share a sperm sample with her.
“I did,” I confirmed.
“We’ll start all this in about forty-five minutes. You can get changed into that hospital gown, then we’ll get a nurse in here to get your IV started,” he relayed the instructions. “You good?”
I was expecting him to be looking at me, but when I turned to survey him, he was looking at Zip.
“Irritated,” she said tightly.
Hoyt laughed. “What did my brother do?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and said, “Nothing.”
Liar.
Everyone knew that ‘nothing’ in the woman’s rule book was ‘something.’
It was more than something, really.
“I’ll be ready,” I said while also maintaining eye contact with the woman now staring at me accusingly.
She looked pissed that I hadn’t told her.
Or, it could be, she was pissed with how I’d treated her last week.
That, or it could be that I didn’t take her on her errand, and her sister had had to do it.
Honestly, that was what had tipped me over the edge as I’d watched her drive away.
I’d realized that my temper, and the entire situation, had gotten the best of me.
I shouldn’t have said what I said.
I also shouldn’t have skipped out on the errand she had to run.
The way that Simi had freaked had let me know that it was very important, and not only had I not taken her, but I’d also caused her to be really late for that appointment by taking her as my shield to the family reunion.
“I’ll just leave y’all alone then.” Hoyt grinned at me, widening his eyes for added effect.
His silent ‘you’re in trouble’ made me want to nut punch him.
He was gone before I could follow through with that impulsive move.
“Does it still hurt to be kicked in the balls if you don’t have them?” she asked sweetly.
I opened my mouth to reply, then closed it.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I hadn’t actually thought about it before. I’ll kick my brother in them later on and find out for you.”
“Or,” she continued with the sweet, “we could just kick you after you’ve recovered.”
I ripped my shirt off over my head all the while talking. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here because you don’t need to be alone,” she answered. “And you pretty much forced me to be.”
“How did you know?” I asked as I kicked off my shoes.
The sweatpants were the next thing to go, and I threw them onto the corner chair, while looking at Zip expectantly.
I turned to her, expecting an answer, only to have her eyes directed at my body.
More specifically, my lower abdomen.
“Eyes up here, woman,” I ordered, snapping my fingers.
Zips eyes rose, and her cheeks heated.
I walked into the bathroom and started fishing around for the stupid hospital gown I was supposed to be wearing, since I didn’t see it on the bed.
“Looking for this?” Zip asked, standing in the doorway with the gown dangling from her hands.
I caught it and yanked, but she didn’t let go.
I pulled again, and she snorted. “I have a brother, Nash. You won’t get it if I don’t want you to have it.”
I narrowed my eyes, then yanked so hard that she was pulled farther inside the bathroom.
With her inside the space enough that I could close the door behind her, I did, slamming it so hard that it reverberated into the room around us.
She blinked at the show of force but didn’t let go of the stupid fabric.
“What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” I repeated. “It can’t be because you feel sorry for me. Because if that’s really it, then get the fuck out.”
Her eyes narrowed, then she yanked the gown, causing herself to get closer to me.
“If I was here for pity, you stupid moron, then you’d know it,” she snapped, taking her index finger and jabbing me in the chest with it.
“Stupid moron?” I challenged, catching that finger and pulling her into my chest completely. “Is that what you think of me?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Honestly? I don’t know what I think about you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked.
“It means,” she dug her nails into my chest, “that you piss me off. And that you make me like you. Then you pissed me way off again.”
“Why, because I told you that you weren’t my friend?”
