I wasn’t sure if he was as bummed as I had been, but for sure I knew that I was pretty freakin’ sad about missing it.
I’d come to really rely on those dates.
He may not say much when I was there, but I got to be in his presence.
And his presence made me feel like I was on top of the world.
I wasn’t sure what it was about the man that caused it, but seriously, I enjoyed the hell out of being with him, even if it was just talking in the visitation room for a short while.
I would’ve been there, sooner, too. However, the last two times that I’d tried to come, the prison had been shut down to outside visitors due to riots.
Fucking riots!
What the hell?
Needless to say, as I sat there in my sweatpants and t-shirt—nice clothes for coming to visit a hot guy, I knew, but I seriously couldn’t fit into any of my other clothes because of all the weight I’d lost over the last month—I was super nervous.
I knew Hunt would notice my weight loss, too.
There was no way he couldn’t.
The doors clanged open, and again my eyes started searching for the man that was quickly becoming a very important person to me.
One visit at a time, I was getting to know him.
And I was really, really liking him.
Something in which I knew I shouldn’t be doing, but couldn’t stop myself from feeling it anyway.
And then there he was, eyes hard, searching around the room for me.
Except, I wasn’t in my usual attire.
I also had my hair down because I couldn’t find the strength to put it up after an exhausting shower.
My hair had never been down in all the times that he’d seen me.
I always made sure to straighten it at least.
This time? My wild curls were just… everywhere.
Then his eyes swept over me.
They swept away just as fast only to shoot right back to me.
I held my hand up in a feeble wave.
His eyes narrowed dangerously as he stalked his way toward me.
He caught my chin with one knuckle when he was close enough, then carefully pulled my chin up while staring into my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
He growled it in such a way that it had my heart hammering.
He was mad.
Like, he looked super pissed.
At what, I wasn’t sure.
“Nothing’s wrong.” I paused. “Other than I’m getting over the most hellacious bout of pneumonia/flu followed by antibiotic reaction followed by whatever the hell else I caught. I’m fine. I promise.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like it.”
I snorted out a laugh and gestured to my seat. “I didn’t much like it, either.”
“You look like shit,” he said, his eyes wary as he took a seat. “Tell me what happened.”
His order made a shiver of delight slowly roll down my spine.
“It all started with me treating a flu patient,” I began.
When I was done with my story, he was frowning hard. “Just how much weight have you lost?”
I grimaced. “About twenty pounds. But don’t worry. As soon as I get some energy back, I’m sure that it’ll all come back and more. I’m not meant to sustain life at this weight.”
I was a curvy girl. Always had been, always would be.
In fact, when I wasn’t careful with what I ate, curvy turned into not so much curvy but round, and that meant that I was constantly aware of what I was eating.
But for now, it was nice not to have to worry about every little thing I put into my mouth.
“Besides my obvious sickness,” I said, “everything else is going well.”
Then I chattered with him for the next thirty minutes, telling him about every little thing in my life that had changed.
I told him about something funny the dogs did.
I told him about how they’d slept in bed with me.
I told him about my aunt’s newest antics.
I told him about the time I thought someone was breaking in and it turned out to be his sister. Which I’d found out only after she’d left and I’d looked at the monitors.
“Whatever you do,” he said, “don’t let them inside.”
With that, he stood up when the guards indicated it was time to file out. “Take care of yourself, honey. I want to see you healthier and back up to fighting weight the next time you come see me.”
That was the first time that he’d actually sounded like he was looking forward to the next visit.
I beamed at him. “I’ll be here. And I’ll try.”
• • •
Twelve months later
I was fighting mad.
Why was I fighting mad?
Because my aunt had delayed the court hearing.
Again.
We were now going on almost two years of her fighting every single fucking thing she could fight.
And she was picking the most petty, ridiculous things she could think of.
The bad thing was, the court was actually allowing these delays, and I had the sinking suspicion that she had an inside foothold where I did not.
I also had a feeling that I was losing ground, and she might just win this.
Which had me seething as I sat waiting for my man to get into the visiting rooms.
When he did finally show what felt like long minutes later, he looked… odd.
I frowned.
“What’s wrong?” I asked the instant he sat down.
He stared at me blankly. “Nothing.”
That’s when I saw him move stiffly, and I tilted my head. “Are you hurt?”
He gritted his teeth, obviously not wanting to answer.
I sighed. “You don’t have to tell me. I mean, it’s not like you really owe me anything.”
It’s not like I’m your wife in truth.
“Bad day in here yesterday,” he said as he softened slightly. “Tell me about your aunt.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’d rather not talk about her at all, if it’s all the same to you.”
His lips quirked, as if he wanted to argue, but he couldn’t.
That was true, too. The thing was, he nor I
