Page 92 of Wanted

The tattoo on my wrist itched with shame. I hid my face from Weston, and I placed an arm over my ear to numb the sounds. I stayed like that until I felt the bed tremble. Slowly, I moved into an upright position. I breathed through the pain.

“I’ll bring up your food. If you don’t like my company anymore, I won’t force it upon you.” Sober, he glanced at me. His eyes were full of regret. When he turned around, I watched him leave. He shut the door behind him gently.

“You’re scaring me,” I said to nobody in particular, not really believing my own words. I felt a strange sensation—a silly one.

I shut my eyes, trying to find peace.

♥♠♥

Mrs. Bengtsson’s smile was reassuring. “You’re doing great. Make sure that you have enough meals every day. Go out. Enjoy your life.”

That was easier said than done.

Weston sat next to me in Mrs. Bengtsson’s office. It wasn’t as messy anymore. Books had found their place on the shelves. The medical equipment was sorted. Posters promoting safe sex hung on her walls.

“This doesn’t mean that it’s over for you. There are a lot of women out there who had the same operation,” the doctor claimed. “If you need to talk to somebody who shared your experience, there’s a network. I didn’t think…”

“Katantians, right? You thought we were cruel fuckers who only look at pussy when we fuck it?” Weston asked exasperated.

The doctor nodded. “Well, yes. My first weeks here have proven me wrong. It seems like the local doctors are working hard to help sex workers and other female citizens of the country be safe and healthy.”

“Thank you, but I’m fine,” I lied, gracing them both with a smile that was as real as werewolves in the Sahara.

“She doesn’t have to be on bed rest?” Weston asked.

“No, her body is recovering fast.” The doctor faced me again. “You were stuck in here for weeks. Don’t you want to be outside again?”

I shook my head. “I’m comfortable in bed right now.”

“Can I take her shopping?” Weston asked, and I snapped my head in his direction. “Physically speaking, is that okay?”

The doctor nodded. “If she’s okay with it, why not? Just try to improve your circulation. The beaches here are lovely. Go out for a walk. No swimming yet. We’ll touch on that subject in a month.”

“I don’t want to…”

Weston interrupted me, “I’m sure Valentina will host a baby shower. Don’t you want to have the perfect gift for the little one?”

I sighed.

♥♠♥

Weston parked the Wraith while I stared at the tattoo on my wrist.

Amalia.

“What do people get babies at this point?” I asked Weston, having no idea what was expected of me.

“I thought you’d know the answer to that,” he responded, clicking his door open. I waited for him to open mine because it stung when I tried to do it on my own. “What do babies need?”

I shrugged, stepping out of the car. Behind me, Weston locked the vehicle. It was too hot for late winter, even for Katantian standards, as Weston had told me the other day. I still wore a long-sleeved oversized sweater that hid all of my insecurities. I couldn’t look at the scar on my abdomen just yet.

“Clothes?” I suggested, pulling at my own sweater. Weston waited for me to take the first step. He’d brought me to the Nordstrom of baby items, a huge store that had zero relation to the rest of Katantia. Innocence was still intact here. And, fuck, did I need that affirmation.

I started walking, taking it slow because I wasn’t sure which movements caused me to hurt.

Once we entered the store, Weston had it cleared. That took ten minutes of us standing by the management office, and I questioned why we had to take such extremes measures. We just wanted to have a look at clothes for the baby.

“It’s all set. Do you need my help?” the man who’d scared the customers out of his store approached us.