Page 40 of Toxic

I know he means it as a question and not theendearment.

“You were pregnant?”heasks.

“So it would seem,” I say dully. “It doesn’t matter. I’m notanymore.”

“It was mine.” It isn’t a question. He says it like a claim. Like it’s something vital and real. And it was, but it isn’t anymore, and I don’t want to talk to him, especially about this, so I say, “Probably,” even though I know for certainitwas.

“It was mine,” he repeats, his voice more insistent. I hear the chair creak, and my aching body tenses, bracing for whatever he hasplannednext.

He doesn’t touch me as I expect. He just moves the chair closer to my bed. “How?” I can’t tell if he’s merely curious or furious. He wants to know how I lost the baby, but that isn’t something I can talk about right now . . . maybenotever.

My hands knot in the thin bedclothes. “I don’t want to talk about it.” I pause to clear the tremor in my voice. “Does itmatter?”

He sighs, and the sound caresses my skin. I can almost imagine that I feel his breath coasting along my flesh. “Iguessnot.”

For some reason, his words cause my eyes to water again. I don’t let them come this time, blinking furiously to stemtheflow.

The questions bubble up inside me, and I nearly choke on them. The reasons why Gracin did what he did don’t matter anymore. They seem so very childish in comparison to all the things that have happened since then. One day, I’ll demand answers, just nottoday.

I roll away from him, unwilling to say anything else. Thankfully, he doesn’t pry. I must fall asleep because the next time I open my eyes, I find the sun has risen and I’m alone. I watch the light for a long time before a knock sounds and a young woman enters. She’s wearing scrubs, so I assume she’s at least a nurse. I don’t ask. I also don’t ask how she knows Gracin or came to be in this room taking care of me. I don’t wanttoknow.

“Hello,” she says in a soft voice that is warm and soothing. I want to lean into it for comfort. I want someone to hold me more than anything, but instead, I swing my legs over the side ofthebed.

“Would you mind helping me to the restroom?” I askbrusquely.

She nods, her hands efficient and capable as she helps me navigate the wires and tubes and bears my weight as she guides me to a door off to the left. The bathroom is sumptuous with granite countertops and expensive tile. I spot a walled in shower with a dozen knobs and heads. After I do my business, I ask her to help meundress.

“Do you wantmeto—”

“No, I’m fine.” I soften my harsh words with a small smile. “Thank you,though.”

There’s a bench seat in the shower, and I ease myself down onto it with a small grimace. There isn’t a part of me that doesn’t hurt. Dr. Haversham had bandaged my thighs and calves with breathable gauze and some sort of waterproof plastic wrap. According to the nurse, they recently changed them, and I should be okay to shower, provided that it isn’t too long. I don’t even want to imagine what theylooklike.

A cursory check of myself reveals blood, which streams down to mix with the shower water. I can’t find it in me to be embarrassed. There’s only room for the constant ache ofgrief.

I don’t know how long I sit in the shower, but it’s long enough that the blood abates, at least for a while. Long enough that the thick glass walls are steamed from top to bottom, and my skin is puffy and wrinkled. Long enough that the bandages on my legs need changing. No matter how long I sit in the spray, though, I feel like I won’t ever getclean.

It’s Gracin who retrieves me when they’ve deemed my shower has gone on long enough. I don’t fight him, although his touch makes my skin crawl. He simply appears on the other side of the glass and reaches in to turn the water off. Then he sticks his arm in and offers me a towel. I expect him to peek as I wrap myself in it and step out, but hedoesn’t.

“How are you feeling?”heasks.

I hate that his voice doesn’t betray any emotion. The man I knew who was calculating, devious and flirtatious is nowhere to be found. It only reinforces my belief that it all truly was an act. And like the idiot that I was, I fellforit.

Guess it’s a good thing I’m not an idiotanymore.

I level him with a look, and he says, “Fair enough. Is there anything I can get you to make you morecomfortable?”

“You can tell me when I can get out of here.” There’s no point in dancing around it. I didn’t spend two months on the run because I wanted him to find me. After what he did, the only thing I want is to get as far away from him as possible. Perhaps they’re taking new bids on the International Space Station. Yes, that or another planet might be farenoughaway.

His expression doesn’t change, but for a moment, his mouth tightens. “It isn’t safe for you to leave right now,”hesays.

I lower myself onto the bed cautiously and then allow him to cover me with the blankets. “What is that supposedtomean?”

He glances away, and I have to swallow back the urge to force him to look at me. “It means you’re staying here untilit’ssafe.”

“And whereishere?”

“Myhouse.”