My knee bounces despite my best efforts to stop it. I can’t remember the last time my body didn’t feel like it was betraying me with sickness or nerves. Without saying a word, he glances over before reaching out and resting his hand on my thigh. The contact is strangely comforting. Given that we haven’t known one another for long, it should be weird.
What does it mean that it’s not?
Maybe it’s because he doesn’t demand anything in return. He hasn’t asked questions, pushed for more information, or judged me.
“Breathe,” he murmurs, gaze fixed on the road. “Everything will be fine.”
With a nod, I inhale. The SUV smells like him. Masculine with smoky undertones that have become familiar over the past week. In a sea of uncertainty, it steadies me more than anything else.
I didn’t realize how starved I was for something familiar until this very moment.
By the time we pull into the medical building parking lot, my pulse has slowed. Not because I’m any less scared, but because he’s beside me, reassuring me every step of the way.
It doesn’t take long to find the doctor’s office. Inside, the waiting room buzzes with low conversation and the rustle of paperwork. Laiken takes the clipboard from the counter without comment and then settles beside me, flipping through the forms.
“I’ll help,” he says simply.
Not should I? or do you want me to?
Just… I’ve got you.
It’s exactly what I need, and enough to bring tears to my eyes.
He fills in his name under the emergency contact section before glancing at me. “Is that okay?”
Emotion crashes over me as I nod. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Emergency contacts feel much too real. Permanent in a way I’m unprepared for. My hand trembles as he passes me the clipboard, and I begin filling out the paperwork. Without a word, his fingers slide over mine, anchoring them. Anchoring me. The touch isn’t possessive or controlling.
It’s just there.
A solid presence.
Almost like he’s lending me his strength because mine has run out.
It takes fifteen minutes before they finally call my name. I rise automatically and take a step when I realize he’s still seated. Panic flares to life. The idea of walking back there alone and sitting in that room by myself has a pit forming at the bottom of my belly.
“Can you—” My tongue darts out to moisten my lips as I force myself to meet his gaze. “Would you mind coming in with me?”
Once the words are out, there’s no taking them back. I’m painfully aware of how much the answer matters.
He’s on his feet in an instant. “Yeah, of course.”
The exam room is small, with pale-yellow walls. The nurse is kind and efficient. She takes my vitals, all the while asking routine questions. Laiken sits on one of the chairs, not crowding or hovering. He’s just close enough for me to feel his presence.
I don’t miss how the nurse’s gaze flicks between us. Like she’s already categorized us as a couple.
After she leaves, he turns to me. “If there’s any point you want me to step out, say the word.”
It’s not a conscious decision to slide my hand into his. I just do it. The contact sends a thrill shooting through me before curling low in my belly in a way that is startlingly intimate.
This is nothing like the safety my brothers provided that was protective and familiar. Taken for granted because we’re family. This is different. It feels more like being cocooned in comfort. Like if I let myself sink into it, I might just forget how to pull away when it becomes necessary.
The doctor comes in moments later. She’s an older woman with dark hair shot through with silver, and kind eyes that crinkle at the corners when she smiles.
“Good morning,” she says before introducing herself and running through what the exam will entail.
I lie back on the table and tug my shirt up before unsnapping the button of my jeans and lowering the zipper a few inches.
She glances at Laiken. “Dad? Do you want to move closer so you can see the screen?”
