Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 85183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
I just need space. I can't deal with this and Jude going apeshit at the same time. It's too much. I duck and make a break for the shower door.
He grabs hold of me and shakes his head. "Where are you going?"
"I can't do this with you right now," I whisper, my voice hitching.
He gives me a stern glare. "You can't fucking ignore this, you know?" He's angry, but beneath the anger I can see the hurt. The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt Jude.
My chest tightens. Why didn't I tell him? I'm so obsessed with my quest for revenge that I haven't even thought about afterwards. I've been living for one purpose—kill Joe Campbell. This... this was never part of the plan, but I should have trusted him with it.
"Fuck," he sighs. "You need to go to the fucking doctor."
I shake my head. "No, I'm fine."
He pulls me closer to him, his grip hard enough to brook no argument. "I wasn't fucking asking," he grates, the muscles in his jaw tense.
I glare at him and rip my arm from his grip. "I don't need a doctor, and I'm not going to be bullied into going to see one," I snap.
"If it's my kid. It's half my fucking responsibility. You will go to the doctor, Tor."
"If?" I breathe the one word, such a small word that says a thousand more. He thinks it's Joe's.
His jaw twitches. "Yeah, Tor. If. As bad as that sounds, you can't fucking blame me for thinking it."
I feel sick. I shake my head, meeting his torn gaze. "No," I whisper. "I can't because it's exactly the same thing I thought when they told me." I swallow and look away. "And my only thought was that I would sooner cut it out myself and bleed out than have it."
His shoulders droop, that hardened exterior of his faltering. Dropping my arm, he drags his hands through his wet hair. "Fuck. I'm sorry." His hand brushes my cheek. "Shit, you're pregnant." He shakes his head before his eyebrows drop into a frown. "You're pregnant," he repeats. "Shit. You can't go running around with a gun and fucking killing people, woman. You can't do shit like that with a fucking kid in your stomach. It's not right."
I roll my eyes. "Because you know so much about pregnancy and what's right."
"I know what's right for you. From now on, you are gonna do what I tell you to. You're gonna eat, you're gonna sleep, and you're not fucking killing anyone."
I feel my anger levels rising to irrational levels. "Fuck you, Jude." Do what he tells me? Is he even serious? I go to step around him, and he throws a muscled arm out, blocking my exit. Water cascades over his biceps, making the dark ink on his skin come to life.
"I mean it. This changes everything." He glares at me.
"This changes nothing. And don't you, of all people, dare fucking preach at me about killing people."
He narrows his gaze and arches an eyebrow. "Fuck, I should have known something was going on the way you lost your shit over the head in the freezer this morning! You can go ahead and rein those damn hormones of yours in!"
I want to scream. "It is not fucking unreasonable not to want a fucking head in the freezer!" I scream. And you want me cooped up and wrapped in cotton wool? You're going to get it, hormones and all. Just you wait." I narrow my eyes at him smugly.
He rolls his eyes. "Jesus fucking Christ! I can't handle this shit. Take your damn shower and go eat something."
"This is only the beginning," I say, smirking as I duck under his arm and leave the shower. I glance over my shoulder at his powerful frame, completely naked behind the glass.
"Oh, fucking threats now, huh? Real mature, Tor..."
"Preparation," I correct him. If he thinks he's going to control me for the next six months, he is sadly mistaken.
I take a towel from the back of the door before leaving the bathroom.
I towel dry my hair quickly, and pull on a tank top and shorts. I open the drawer and grab the nine millimetre, the weight of the cool metal feels good in my hands.
I leave the bedroom and stalk down the hallway. I'm at the top of the stairs when I hear him call after me.
"You better call one of those fucking doctors that stare at pussies all day, and you make a fucking appointment, or I'll do it for you. Do you hear me, Tor?" He slams the door, and then apparently proceeds to slam every drawer and cupboard in the bedroom. Fucking Neanderthal.
This is classic Jude. Doesn't know how to deal with shit, so he gets angry and tries to control me. I'm not going to the doctor. This baby survived this long, and it's survived a lot. The last few weeks have been a cakewalk compared to its first few. A doctor is an unnecessary risk at this point because all I need is for Joe to find out I'm pregnant.