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He knew she was itching to change form, and it would be entirely pleasing to see her naked—another surprise for him. Except he could not be here for very long. He had to condition her to want to meet him, and therefore, he needed to leave her curious and a little confused.
He would be on her mind.
She would come tomorrow.
And then, one way or another, he could get her out of his system so he could finish his work—and move along to destroy that lab.
After which…
Well, he was going to take a long fucking vacation, he thought just as he was about to dematerialize away—from his wolf and her mountain.
THIRTY
SO YOU HAVEthings to think about.”
As Gus spoke, he held up the test in front of C.P. Phalen. Then he put the wand with its two windows and all its lines down on the rolling table next to the hospital bed. Turning away, he was at a loss—but that had to do with so much more than where his physical location was.
He went over and sat on his stool because he didn’t know what else to do. The good news? He’d been a doctor for a very long time, so his role in this bombshell moment was fairly prescribed.
Har, har.
Over on the bed, C.P. took the test by the end you were supposed to hold, and tilted it so she could see those peepholes. When she just stared at the result, he cleared his throat.
“That’s a strong response,” he heard himself say. “But to be more precise, we’ll need a blood test.”
“This can’t be happening.”
“So you weren’t using protection, I’m guessing. Or was there a malfunction?”
He had no clinical reason for going there, and he feared his personal one was making him behave like an ass. But he couldn’t stop himself.
“Of course I didn’t use anything,” C.P. said in a numb way, like she was talking to herself. “I was told I couldn’t have children—why did Anderson not catch this?”
“They did.” He shrugged. “As for why it didn’t come up in your patient assessment report? I can’t answer that—maybe they were waiting to tell you at that appointment you skipped.”
And yes, it would have been more likely she’d be infertile because of the amount of chemo she’d had over the course of her lifetime, but who didn’t use protection for other reasons?
Someone who didn’t think they had a long life ahead of them, that’s who,he thought.
Across the way, C.P. came into sharp focus for him. She was dressed for treatment, nothing binding on her body, everything loose, cotton, and comfy—and goddamn, he wished he’d never lent her that fucking fleece. He certainly didn’t want it back now.
Pregnant.As if he needed a more obvious confirmation of what he’d walked into with that bathroom of hers—and the father was dead.
Sitting there all alone, she looked so tired, so vulnerable, the dark circles she usually concealed with expensive makeup smudging under her eyes, her lips pale without their applied tinting, her hair limp as it fell forward into her face, no spray on it to keep it curled and in check.
She didn’t even have shoes on, just thick, fluffy socks.
Then again, she’d come here expecting to receive therapy.
He glanced to the door. He’d told the three nurses and the other oncologist he’d asked to stay for the administration of the drugs to go home as soon as he’d noticed the test in her voluminous records. That had been back at five in the afternoon. And then he’d called C.P. down here—only after he’d gotten his own shit together.
“What’s going to happen if I keep…” She cleared her throat. “If I keep the pregnancy going.”
Clearly, she was having trouble saying “baby.”
His eyes went back to the test. “It’ll be a race between the pregnancy and the leukemia. And excuse me for being blunt, but that’s assuming you don’t miscarry along the way.”
The way her hands went to her flat stomach told him everything he needed to know about what her decision was going to be—and maybe more than she realized: She was going to want to keep what was inside of her, no matter how the baby came out. No matter what had happened to the father.
