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“Stop,” she whispers, her hands cupping my face, bringing my attention back to her. “Focus on me, okay?”
I take a shaky breath, not because I have remorse, but because my lungs burn like I’ve run a marathon. “Don’t do that again,” I warn.
She doesn’t back down, even though I can see she’s afraid of me. “Do what?”
“Get in my path when I’m in that zone. I could’ve hurt you.”
She swipes her thumbs over my cheeks, and fuck, I don’t like how much I want her to continue doing it. “You won’t hurt me,” she assures me, though I don’t know how she can be so sure of that.
The anger seeps out of my pores until I feel calm again. “You okay now?” she asks.
“Yeah. Are you?”
She nods. “I’m okay, Rage. I feel better after eating. A good night’s sleep and I’ll be back to normal.”
It’s an oversimplification of the situation, but it’s enough to soothe me further.
“I’m not leaving,” Skye says to the doctor, even though she doesn’t tear her eyes or her hands from me. “I’m grateful for your concern, but Rage didn’t cause this, and I want to be here.”
I know that last part is a fucking lie, but I appreciate her saying it. Somehow, Skye achieved what no one else ever has. She stopped me from exploding, and she didn’t knock me out to do it.
I don’t know what the fuck that means, but when she steps back, removing her touch from me, I feel the loss in my gut.
“Can you try the portable device you mentioned?”
The doctor swipes at the blood pooling under his nose, a dismayed look on his face. “It might not work,” he says.
“If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. What do you need me to do?”
“Can you lie down and pull your sweater up?”
Skye smiles as if she hasn’t just witnessed the violence I inflicted, and I don’t know what the fuck to make of it.
I watch as she moves over to the bed and positions herself on the mattress until she’s comfortable. The doctor rummages in his bag, getting the shit he needs ready.
“I didn’t think you could do this outside the hospital,” Skye says. She’s making small talk to diffuse the tension in the room.
This behaviour ain’t normal. It’s learned, and it fucking upsets me knowing she’s probably seen this kind of thing before.
“Technology’s come a long way,” the doctor mumbles, swiping at his nose again. It’s still bleeding, though he makes no attempt to clean it.
“It’s good,” Skye says, her gaze coming to mine. “We might be able to see our baby.”
“Yeah.” I don’t know what else to say, though that one word seems so inadequate.
Skye’s eyes are a little distant as she pulls her sweater up. The leggings she’s wearing sit high on her waist, so she has to push them down too.
I try not to stare, but my eyes are glued to her stomach. Skye’s slight frame means I can see the smallest protrusion between her hip bones. If I didn’t know she’s pregnant, I would assume she’s bloated, but I know that’s our baby growing inside her.
My mind short circuits. It’s one thing to talk about it, but seeing it makes it all the more real. Skyeispregnant, and I’m going to be a dad in a matter of months.
Fuck.
This entire afternoon has been a whirlwind of emotion, and I don’t know that I’ve had time yet to catch my breath.
“Rage? Can you sit with me?”
I don’t want to move, but she’s asking for me, so I force my feet forwards and round the bed so I can sit next to her. The mattress dips with my weight, jostling her slightly, but all I can focus on is her stomach.
