Chapter Eleven
The Mouse Trap
Rex
We know, dude. You’ve said it multiple times. I’m beyond tired of hearing his excuses. I’m upset about the baby in general, worried that if she doesn’t seek medical care it could hurt her or cause her to be unable to have kids in the future. But my longer-lasting concern, selfish as it is, is that she’ll dump my ass and never look back. I’m terrified that Lark isn’t going to give me another chance after all. Without the possibility of fathering her child, she could cut me out completely; at least I’d had a chance before. Lark would never deny a kid its parent unless there were justifiable reasons, she just isn’t like that. And I wanted this one. Ideal timing or situation— definitely not, but I’d gotten used to the idea and had started looking up all the things we’d need, so I could order them as soon as this shit with Robert was taken care of. Now I’m a desolate jackass waiting for her to drop the ax.
I tune back into the conversation, still hovering behind Lark, afraid to let her out of arm's reach. As if that could stop something internally bad from happening to her.
Apollo and Braeden are discussing setting up a way to get her into a private clinic instead of a hospital while Marcus has his phone out and is looking something up. A phone Brent is eyefucking from across the table.
I can’t wait to nail that pissant to the wall. Just a little longer— I thought Braeden was going to remove my nuts when I told him we had to leave Lark out of the loop. But something is still bugging me about him, besides him breathing that is.
“And what kind of doctor are you, Brent?” I ask. That gets everyone’s attention, and the not-so-good doctor definitely looks like he’s been put on the spot. "I distinctly remember you telling me you were general health, but capable of handling the basics." Lark stiffens and I know he'd told her the same thing as well.
“I’m a dermatologist if you must know.” Snooty bastard nearly has his nose in the air as he says it too. So, he lied to us all. Surprise, surprise.
Apollo looks highly surprised. “How did you get away with that with Robert? I’d have been sure he would have made you go into a different field. Actually, I know he did. You were doing a general surgery specialty last I was aware.”
“I didn’t—get away with it, that is. He found out after the prerequisites were met, and he let me keep the major with the understanding that I would hold the license for the spa, so it was more in-house than the current person.” Apollo nods like that makes perfect sense, and I suppose it does, but he could have explained before. Shady fucker. “It was with the understanding that I go back and get a plastics degree though for… alterations.”
We all can guess what that means, and I’m not the only one that has a shudder visibly work through them. Changing the subject before it can get any darker, I address Marcus. “Any way to get her in to see someone? Or get documents that let her pass without getting flagged?”
Marcus nods, still studying his phone. “Yes, actually, I think I have a place. It’s a walk-in clinic about an hour from here, and it’s known for being a sanctuary that doesn’t ask too many questions but provides quality medical care. Hopefully, they won’t be too busy, and we can call ahead to see if we can get an appointment. I’ll make something up about a compromised immune system; that should take care of needing the appointment without the waiting room.”
I like the plan, and while Marcus handles that, I talk Lark into getting something to eat in the kitchen. I’m going to be the most attentive almost-boyfriend ever. I know there’s no way Braeden will be leaving her side, but he better scoot over because I’m climbing in bed with her too. I’m just grateful Emmett isn’t vying for the spot as well. The other two, well, they’re a bit more circumspect and I think not so good at handling situations like these. Not emotionally anyway.
Lark eyes me like I have two heads when I try to cut her food up but huffs out a breath, blowing her cute little loose hairs that have escaped her ratty bun out of her face.
Lark
Two days. That’s how long it’s been since I was allowed to go pee without someone trying to escort me.
Now we're all loaded up in the SUV we'd arrived in and on the way to the clinic Marcus was talking about. The bleeding hasn't picked up more than what a normal period would be, and I haven't passed any clots. Even Brent is concerned with that.
He's sitting next to me in the middle row, much to my displeasure, coaching me on the supposed rare auto-immune disorder that was used to explain why I need an appointment and can't sit in the waiting room.
I'm planning on being as vague as possible and redirecting any questions to my current issue. I feel bad for using the abusive ex excuse, but it's better that innocent people not be caught in the crossfire if Robert gets wind of my visit to the clinic. I continue to refuse to let anyone except Brade accompany me, and while the others aren't happy about it, they do agree it's the most logical choice.
The only issue is keeping tabs on Brent while the others are in guard positions around the clinic. Leaving him to his own devices doesn't seem like a good idea to me, and from the bits I've overheard when the guys thought I was asleep, I've pieced together that Brent is more of a problem than just being an irritating ass.
My suspicions had been spot on, but without concrete evidence, I hadn't thought it fair to lump him in with the bad guys— especially because I already didn't like him. He'd been a victim during our captivity too.
My thoughts are interrupted as we pull up to the side of the clinic, where Braeden and I get out. Marcus leaves the vehicle parked there while Brent gets in the driver's seat where he's supposed to be staying in case of an emergency. The others spread out to take up their stations and keep a lookout. I'm slightly perturbed that they don't even look like they have the arsenal I know is stored on each of them.
Braeden takes my hand and leads me into the clinic, standing back slightly when I go up to the plexiglass security window to tell the receptionist that I have an appointment.
"Mary Stuart," I answer when she asks for my name. She looks at whatever is on her computer screen and doesn't ask for any more information. I'll have to thank Marcus for whatever he told them later, as I really didn't expect it to be this easy.
"Go ahead and take a seat. You'll be called back in just a few minutes." She hands me a little paper mask that I realize I should probably put on to keep up my cover since I'm not supposed to be picking up others' germs. I feel a little silly that we missed that, as I should have worn one in to begin with, but maybe I can just play it off. If it’s brought up, I could always say that Braeden is the only one that I'm around, and I wasn't prepared to be going into public. Flimsy, but hopefully it will work.
Brade leads me to a row of generic pink chairs to sit and wait. The small room looks like any other clinic with its tables of magazines and a small area for kids to play. As it's the lunch hour, they are technically closed, but that's when the doctor thought it would be best to get me in to avoid other patients.
Only two or three minutes pass before a nurse in cute pink scrubs with frogs on them comes out to get me. She gestures for me to join her by the door that leads back to the exam rooms, greeting me when I reach her.
"Miss Stewart, correct?" The nurse offers a kind smile with the inquiry. So far everyone has been very cheerful, and it's sort of creeping me out. Or maybe I'm just unaccustomed to strangers being nice, which is pretty damn sad.
I remember she asked a question when Brade nudges me, and hastily answer, "Yes."