I breathe in the exhale Demi pushes out when I drag my tongue along the roof of her mouth. I love how she responds to me. I could be doing something as simple as tracing a figure-eight pattern on her back while staring at the ceiling, yet her body would react as if my head was in between her legs.
“Three… four… five.” Demi’s perfectly timed breaths turn rampant when she reaches seven without interruption.
“Eight… nine… t—” I’m unsure if she groans or moans when she reaches the ‘T’ in ten. Her grunts all sound about the same. I realize it’s the former when atut-tutbreaks across the room.
When Nurse Sandy’s scorn doesn’t have us coming up for air, she adds a shoe tap into the mix. She’s sympathetic for what Demi went through and never gives me hell for sharing Demi’s bed every night, but she’s extremely objective about us giving Demi’s body time to heal.
I’ve told her numerous times I’d never do anything to Demi against her wishes, but Nurse Sandy is just as adamant that Demi would disregard her discomfort to ensure my every whim was answered.
“A woman who’s been hurt by those she loves doesn’t realize love is meant to be painless,” Nurse Sandy quotes for the third time this week when Demi’s scowl becomes hot enough to scald. “Up on the bed, Missy. I have vitals to take.”
I angle my head to hide my smile when Demi does as commanded with a whiny moan. She can pretend all she likes that she loathes Nurse Sandy, but both Nurse Sandy and I know better. She’s stern with Demi because she realizes it’s best to leave the nurturing to me.
“How is your bleeding?” Nurse Sandy asks after checking Demi’s pulse and taking her blood pressure.
“It’s good,” Demi replies sheepishly. “It’s almost all gone.”
“Thatisgood.” Nurse Sandy smiles, assuring Demi it’s okay to admit she’s healing. Our baby won’t be forgotten when she stops bleeding. He or she will forever live in our hearts. “With your condition, this part of your recovery usually lasts longer than normal. However, you appear to be right on track.”
She lowers the sheet on Demi’s bed before nudging her head to the pillow, wordlessly requesting for Demi to lay down. When Demi is in position, she places the sheet just below Demi’s panty line before raising her dress so it sits under her bra. I grind my back molars together when Demi hisses from the nurse pushing on her stomach. Demi is as strong as an ox, so for her to express pain, she is really feeling it.
“Tenderness is also normal.” After prodding Demi’s stomach for a couple more seconds, Nurse Sandy lowers her dress then helps Demi into a seated position. “Did any excessive product matter expel overnight?”
Demi looks mortified. She isn’t the only one. This is the second time I’ve heard our baby referred to as a ‘product.’ Its repetitiveness doesn’t make it any easier to swallow, though.
“No,” Demi replies a short time later. “My bleeding has been light.”
Nurse Sandy taps the tip of her pen on Demi’s file. “Good. That means Dr. Falgar got it all.”
Although a combination of grief and guilt could be responsible for my emotional response, the ‘it’ part of her statement grates my last nerve, but before I can announce that, Demi takes up my campaign. “It? He or she wasn’t an ‘it.’ That was a baby.Ourbaby.” She gestures her hand to me during the ‘our’ part of her comment.
Remorse fills Nurse Sandy’s eyes a mere second before a blubbering response leaves her mouth, “I’m very sorry. You are right. That was your baby. I will learn to word my responses better from here on out.” Her cheeks turn a hue of pink as she grimaces. “It may take a little getting used to. It’s rare for anyone around these parts to be upset about their loss.” Her last two sentences are so soft, I’m confident they weren’t meant to be heard by neither Demi nor me. “I’ll be back in around an hour to draw some blood.”
She looks like she wants to say more. Her lips twitch, but not a word seeps from her mouth. Demi waits for her to burst through her hospital room door before she shifts her eyes to me. They’re full of sorrow.
“Don’t you dare apologize.” I’ve studied her enough the past eight weeks to know what she’s thinking, so I won’t mention the prior fifteen years. She’s remorseful for snapping at Nurse Sandy. “If you hadn’t said something, I would have.” A ghost of a smile cracks her lips when I add, “I doubt my response would have been as polite as yours. You’re so strong, Demi. So fucking determined. With time, you could run this entire state.”
When a snicker creeps across the room, my neck cranks to the door of Demi’s room so fast, my muscles scream in protest. I’ve heard that snarky, condescending gripe before. It came from the man who swore an oath to protect the integrity of his country, the same man who encouraged me to run drugs for a mobster so he could line his pockets with money. It came from the very man who switched me from an everyday American to a murderer. It came from Agent Arrow Moses.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I leap from my chair, tug Demi off the bed, then pull her behind me. I wasn’t lying when I said the best protection a woman can have is the ability to protect herself, but that’s null and void when it comes to men like Agent Moses. “You’re on leave without pay, awaiting prosecution. Your days at the Bureau are numbered.”
I’m not saying anything I can to get Demi out of a dangerous situation. I’m speaking facts. Over two days, sixty men dug through a mountain load of rubbish searching for the wire Agent Moses bugged me with that fateful night weeks ago. I thought Agent Brahn was wasting time we didn’t have on matters no longer significant, but he proved otherwise when his crew achieved the seemingly impossible. They found both the device and the teeny tiny thumb print Agent Moses left inside the tape compartment of the recorder.
Even without knowing the full extent of Agent Moses’s crimes, Agent Brahn was confident he had enough evidence to take the matter further. He immediately put actions in place to have Agent Moses stood down. I have no shame admitting I smirked like a smug prick when I heard he had been placed on an unpaid suspension pending further investigations.
“Whatever do you mean, Ox?” Agent Moses asks, drawing my focus back to him. “I took a couple days of leave to fatten up my dossier. Promotions are rare at the Bureau. You should never apply for one untilallyour i’s are dotted and your t’s are crossed.” He moseys into the room like he owns the place. “Didn’t Tobias tell you that? From what I’ve heard, you’ve had plenty of time for snitching the past four days.” He holds his index finger in the air when I attempt to interrupt him. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot about the ‘special’ assignment Agent Brahn had to attend.” He air quotes ‘special’ like the arrogant prick he is. “I bet he wishes he weren’t so eager now.” When confusion crosses my face, lost as to why he’s smiling like he has the world at his feet, he asks, “Did you not read the papers I had specially delivered?”
When he nudges his head to a stack of newspapers on the wheelie table at the end of Demi’s bed, Demi advises, “The tea lady delivered them when you were in the shower. I assumed you had ordered them.”
Her hot breath fans the sweat beading on my neck when I shake my head. I’ve been struggling to ignore the pleas my family bombarded my phone with the past four days. I didn’t need to read about their grief.
It’s the fight of my life not to rearrange Agent Moses’s face with my fists when he says with a chuckle, “You really should keep up with the news. It’s amazing what you can learn within a couple of sentences.”
Even with my brain screaming for me not to fall for his tricks, I snatch up the first newspaper in the stack, then drag my eyes over the print. It takes barely a second to discover the reason for Agent Moses’s cockiness. His role at the Bureau hasn’t just been reinstated, he is now also the acting supervisor for this state’s division of the FBI.
What. The. Fuck?
“How? Why?” Entire sentences are above me right now. “Agent Brahn wouldneverallow this to happen.”
