Blink.
Anger.
Blink.
Excitement.
Blink.
Possessiveness.
Blink.
“Cara, if you can take seat in the chair closest to the desk here.” I tear my eyes away from the story of Jackson’s dark gaze and sit in the nearby chair. She takes my vitals and starts asking me about a million questions. My mind starts spinning as she asks me about family history, questions about my period, and safety in my home.
Jackson sits still as stone next to me, and if possible, gets more tense as the questions go on.
“And I apologize, is this the father next to you?” The nurse questions.
I whip my eyes to Jackson and see him clenching the armrests of the chair so tightly his knuckles turn white. My mouth goes dry as I remember Jackson questioning me being the father. I have a feeling deep in my gut about Jackson being the father. I know without a doubt that the DNA that runs through this child is from Jackson.
But I can’t help the niggling of doubt that forms.How do I know for certain?
I open my mouth, but no words come out.
Jackson turns his gaze towards me, his nostrils flaring in disbelief and his lip curling in distrust.
He feels betrayed.
“He’s the father.” My hands tremble in my lap, and I push them between my thighs and squeeze them together as tightly as possible.
The nurse nods, narrowing her eyes at my lap before turning to the monitor and typing.What the fuck is she typing?
“Have you given thought on your options? Keeping the baby, adoption, termination…” She seems uncomfortable bringing these questions up, and rightly so. The tension is so thick in this room it’s like a heavy fog. Ominous and fucking stifling.
“Well, I—” I begin, and a hand slams down on my knee.
“Still haven’t decided. Next question.” Jackson’s words lash out of him like a whip. I feel each syllable thrash across my heart like harsh blades of grass.
Tears spring to my eyes because I’m an emotional wreck but I say nothing because I don’t want to start a war within this room.
“Okay… Cara, would you like to—”
“No. I’m fine.” I knew she was about to bring up talking to me alone, and I think Jackson may combust if I ask him to leave. And as much as he’s turning my life on its axis, his familiar form and scent bring me a comfort during this insanity.
She stares at us, fingers poised on the keyboard and uncertainty dancing in her eyes. She wants to call her superior. She wants to advocate for battered women, and I don’t think I could convince her even if I tried that I am not that woman.
At least not from Jackson.
“All right. Well, the doctor will be in shortly, but first things first. I need a urine sample. Bathroom is right across the hall and you can leave it in there behind the little door.”
“Urine sample?” I wrinkle my nose up. Is it not obvious I’m pregnant? “For what?”
“We need to verify the pregnancy. We also test for chlamydia and check the levels in your urine.”
“Chlamydia? Seriously?” I can only imagine my eyes are the size of fucking saucers right now, because really? STDs?
Her forced smile turns into an uncomfortable frown. “I’m sorry, it’s standard protocol.”