Page 151 of Death is Familiar

“The wrong questions?” Despite the obvious shock and sense of betrayal, there was still a warmth to Jack’s tone. “You’ve been gone for days, while the team has been working day and night in search of Delilah. And when I came to check on you, like a good friend, I find you here. With Delilah. So, you tell me, Galt, what sort of questions should I be asking?”

“Wrong—”

“I asked him to come,” I interjected, though the panic was real and pounding in my chest. The urge to run was back and stronger than ever, but I’d played my part in this and wasn’t going to let Todd take the blame. “Alone.”

“What?” Jack looked between the two of us. “Why?”

That’s when he saw it. The second monitor. If he’d still been carrying the flowers, he would have dropped them. Again. I didn’t miss the way his knees buckled as he said, “Is that?”

I should have taken the band around my waist off. It didn’t seem like such a big deal at the time to leave it on. Not when Todd already knew, but the monitor was betraying me, and I wanted just one reveal to be on my terms. Not forced or evidenced out of me.

“Delilah, are you⁠—”

Nope, I definitely wasn’t doing this here. Jack would have to wait. The last thing I needed after Todd’s recent line of questioning was for him to witness me telling Jack, that somehow, despite all fucking odds, he was going to be a father.

“I need ice chips,” I blurted. Yes, ice chips. Good idea. People in hospitals got ice chips all the time for some reason. And I was fairly certain wherever the ice chips were located wasn’t directly outside my room.

“I think there’s something we need to addr⁠—”

“And a broom,” I added. “Or someone’s going to get a shoe-full of glass.”

I missed whatever it was Todd signed over my shoulder, but it had Jack furrowing his brow.

“Ice chips?” Jack confirmed, squaring his attentions on me, as I hiked my blanket tent higher. “Of course, whatever you need. But then we’re having a talk.”

“Ice chips and a broom,” I corrected. “And you’ve got a deal.”

Jack gave a curt nod, which involved a half bow and a warning glance at Todd, as he promptly left—for what I hoped was going to be a rather lengthy roundabout search.

Todd, still standing next to me eyeing the space once occupied by Jack, made no move to go. Since my plans required a solid thirty seconds of unsupervised activity, I added, “Both of you.”

The expression on Todd’s face said, ‘you’ve got to be kidding me.’

Naturally, I one-upped him with an overzealous smile that said, ‘I am absolutely fucking not,’ declaring me the winner.

Tossing one last glare over his shoulder, Todd trudged his way out of the room.

He knew better than to tell me not to do anything stupid. After three months underground, I was going to do whatever I damn well pleased. And as soon as both sets of footsteps were gone, I shot to my feet.

I thought I was going to be ready to face reality.

I definitely was not.

I couldn’t do this. Nope, not here. Possibly not anywhere, ever.

Holding my breath, I did what I failed to do earlier and removed the IV port from my arm. Movies made it look so easy, but in practice it was so unbelievably gross I had to keep my urge to dry-heave in check.

Once that was through, I unwrapped the fetal monitoring band from around my waist, and stole Todd’s raincoat from the hook on the wall. Zipping it up to my neck, it completely covered my hospital gown and burgeoning belly.

Now, I just needed shoes, and there were only two unfortunate options: a pair of hospital-issue slipper socks, or the orange clogs I came in.

Since I had no intention of staying indoors, I grabbed the rubber shoes, and slipped them on as I bee-lined for the door.

Running was stupid. I was fully aware of that, but that didn’t stop me from doing a quick scan of the hall, and when it revealed neither Jack nor Todd, I made the short dash from my room to the emergency stairwell.

No alarms blared as I descended the steps, but carrying the extra weight around was not good on my joints, and with the view of my feet slightly obstructed, I held onto the railing for dear life as I bolted out of the building in my off-balance shape.

Perhaps the two-story sprint up the stairs when escaping the Seal hadn’t been so bad. Not compared to the bumbling down eight floors into a long alley in the piss-pouring rain.