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“How far along am I?”
“When was your last period?”
I wracked my brain for when I’d last had one before answering.
“My best guess at the moment, then, is that you’re at the very beginning stages of the pregnancy. It’s difficult to nail down how many days.”
My mind reeled as I stitched together the timeline. Was it possible that the baby was Zayne’s? I had been held at my parents for a week and a half. Zayne and I had made love for the first time only days before Donovan killed him. At the same time, Donovan had discarded his condom while he raped me the last time.
I gulped, frantic. How would I raise a kid on my own?
“I’ll talk to Sutton. Thank you for your help. Am I healthy otherwise?”
“Yes. You shouldn’t have any problems with the pregnancy if you choose to go through with it. Have Sutton call me if you need anything else.”
“I will.” I stood, feeling a bit better after I had slept for a little while. “I’ll show you out.” I nearly barked out an obnoxious laugh—what a strange time for my manners to appear.
The aroma of sweet baked goods filled the air and invaded my senses as Dr. Mankin and I entered the living room.
“Something smells yummy,” the doctor said to Sutton, who hurried to join us from the kitchen.
“Nerves.” She laughed, then wiped her hands on the pink-and-white-checked apron she had tied around the top of her baby bump. “Cinnamon rolls.”
“Well, I’ll let you two eat. Call me if you need anything.” The doctor gave Sutton a quick hug, then squeezed my shoulder before she left.
I turned to Sutton. “I need a DNA test and some hair of Zayne’s,” I whispered. “I’m pregnant.”
Sutton’s blue eyes widened, then she caught herself. “I’m sorry. You probably haven’t figured out how to deal with your news. I can find what you need, though.”
“Thanks.”
“Would you like to help me in the kitchen? I need to get back in there before I burn them.”
The sound of car tires crunching gravel reached our ears. Sutton frowned and hurried to the window. She peeked through the crack in the curtains to ensure she remained hidden.
Without a word, she grinned, grabbed my wrist, and dragged me outside. A black Mercedes rolled to a stop, then a tall, broad-shouldered man with blonde hair climbed out of the driver’s seat. He nodded at Sutton as he walked around to the back passenger door and opened it.
Sutton gripped my hand so hard, I had to pry her fingers loose.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “That’s Jaxon. He’s one of our guys.”
Utterly clueless about why I cared about someone I’d never seen before, I waited with Sutton. She obviously needed my support, and I wanted to try to be there for her after she’d rescued me.
Jaxon stepped to the side, and I stood rooted in place as my little sister bolted to me.
“Giselle!”
I ran toward her and wrapped her in my arms. “Are you okay?” I smoothed her dirty hair, with one hand.
“I am now. I thought you were dead. Mother and Father said you were.” She sobbed into my shirt.
I kissed the top of her head, tears blurring my vision as I held onto her.
A black boot stepped into my line of sight, and I realized I needed to thank Jaxon. Lifting my head slightly, my gaze traveled up dark denim jeans hugging long, muscular legs and a burgundy Westbrook Security polo shirt tight against a flat stomach, only to land on a face I never thought I would ever see again. I blinked rapidly, attempting to clear my vision.
“Zayne?”
“Hi, babe.”
