She’s limp against me, melted into my chest, her breath soft and uneven. I wrap her in my arms and brush slow circles over her spine, grounding her back into her body.
“I love holding you in my arms,” I murmur. “I could do this all day, every day."
She nods into my neck. “I like how you take care of me.”
“I like when you let me.”
Her hand splays across my chest, and I kiss the top of her head. She falls asleep in minutes. I hear my phone buzz, so I settle her down next to me, surrounding her with pillows, slip on a pair of sweatpants, and step into the hallway.
I received a message from an unknown number.
Only four words:
WE ARE ALREADY CLOSE.
My blood goes cold. I look back at the bedroom door where Claire sleeps, unaware of the war drifting toward us like smoke.
“They’re coming,” I whisper.
And this time, I don’t bother pretending the storm isn’t real. Not when she’s the lightning they want.
CHAPTER TEN
CLAIRE
Dr. Madsen’s clinic has consistently emitted a fragrance reminiscent of roses, printer ink, and disinfectant.
The lights hum too loudly. The hallway feels narrower. My body feels warm and overstimulated from this morning’s pumping session. My breasts are full, tender, and heavier than they've ever been, and something inside me curls tight the moment we step through the glass doors.
Erik’s hand remains firmly placed on the small of my back. It’s a subtle touch, but anchoring and possessive. He silently instructs me to remain close. Dr. Madsen greets us with her usual brightness.
“Claire and Erik! Good to see you both.” Her smile is warm.
Dr. Rhys stands behind her, clipboard at his chest like a shield. When his eyes meet mine, something inside me jumps. His interest in me feels too focused, too direct, and too hungry.
“Let’s get your visit started,” Dr. Madsen says quickly, almost pushing us toward the exam room.
The office feels a bit chillier than normal, and it's making me shiver. I shed my cardigan and nursing bra and then settle onto the table.
I have a thin open covering on as I squirm on the paper, crinkling under me, while Erik hovers beside me like a silent storm.
“We’ll do a routine hormone panel and nutrient check plus a routine breast exam to ensure you’re not developing any issues,” Dr. Madsen says.
Dr. Madsen suppresses a yawn. Erik's expression is one of concern, and it makes me smile, knowing he is taking it all in.
“Not sleeping well?" he says curiously.
She shakes her head, a quick gesture. "Just a long morning."
"Are you really okay with this, considering how wiped out you are?" Erik murmurs.
Her eyes widen with a flicker of astonishment. Before she can respond, Dr. Rhys steps closer with a tray of labeled vials, too many vials for my liking.
“We need additional samples,” he says.
“No,” Erik answers instantly. “You need what’s medically necessary. Nothing more.”
Dr. Rhys’s polite tone doesn’t change. “The company I work for and contract with Dr. Madsen is keen to learn more about Claire’s milk productivity. This discovery could change medicine for all mothers-to-be or other women that desire to induce lactation.”
