Three knocks.
Remy springs up, eyes wide and hair sticking up at all angles from my fingers.
A smirking woman in scrubs checks her clipboard. “May I come in to speak with Win?”
Glancing at Remy, I bite my lip.
“Can my boyfriend stay?”
She smiles. “Of course, sweetheart. And we'll bring your parents in shortly too.”
As she walks me through what happened, Remy holds my hand at the side of my bed, never letting go.
62
Remy
This is more anxiety-inducing than a first date.
Scarier than initiating our first kiss.
I’m having heart palpitations.
“Baby, put the phone down. You’re driving like a maniac.”
I drop it in my lap and blow out a sigh, glancing at Win in the passenger seat. He’s holding onto the handle above the door, complexion a ghostly shade of grey-green. My driving isn’tthatbad. He’s been nauseous since getting discharged this morning (as expected after surviving an attempted murder via drugging a day ago.) In my defense, this is a rare circumstance. I’m not usually one to text and drive, but I need to know that Ma cleared out before we arrive. And that Mitz didn't get loose while she set everything up. Hopefully she didn’t break anything… or worse snoop… Maybe I should've recruited Andrea to supervise.
Surprises are fucking stressful.
Minutes later, I’m shifting the truck into park and Win is launching himself out of the vehicle.
So dramatic. Unfortunately, I’m forced to do the same because I’ll dive into a pool of nails before letting him into that apartment ahead of me. It’ll spoil everything.
“Ay! Slow down!”
“I’m about to piss myself,” he mutters, booking it for the stairs.
God.Dammit.
Thighs burning, I chase after him, catching up in no time. (The guy was literally just released from the hospital, how is he moving this fast?) Once I’m a step behind him, I steal his hand.
He pauses.
I don’t.
His eyes narrow as I take the lead. “You’re acting weird.”
“No, I’m not."
“Bullshit.”
Ignoring him, I drag him to my apartment door and shove the key in the lock, fighting to smother the riot of excited anticipation.
Before opening it, I spin to face him… and immediately forget what I was going to say.
I suck at this.
“Baby, my bladder is about to explode,” he whines.
