Page 105 of Time Out

“We’ll figure it out.”

A chunk of his hair fell onto his forehead as he turned his head in my direction. “How are you the calm one?”

I laughed. Funny how we’d come full circle. “Because you keep telling me everything will be okay.”

“Right. I’m the calm one, got it.”

In the last few days, neither of us had been calm. With the whirlwind arrival of Ruth, we hadn’t stopped. Mr. and Mrs. Clancey stayed the night in Davis’s guest room. Jenna, Ruth, and I camped out on his couches. There were three full-grown young women on the sectionals, and we’d still had room to spread out and invite more had we wanted.

Davis hadn’t argued that night about me not sharing his bed with all the company we’d had, but right after the Clanceys left that next morning and Ruth went to shower, he’d whisked me into his large walk-in closet, bent me over the dresser island in the middle of it and ripped off my panties.

He’d then murmured, “Never again. Never again do you sleep on the couch in your own home,” while he drove me over the cliff and out to see with his fingers and tongue and then his dick, all while forcing me to stay silent so Ruth didn’t hear.

Davis had then spent the day on the phone with his lawyer, trying to find someone who could help us, especially if my family showed up for Ruth. We then spent the afternoon searching for private investigators to take the case, see if anyone could find any information on what was really happening in my father’s home or uncle’s or in the church in general. The abuse of these young girls would stop, and the toxic treatment and teaching to males would as well.

As far as Ruth, she was settling, and while I’d told her more than once that she didn’t have to be on kitchen cleanup duty or constantly walk around the condo with a dust rag or mop in her hands, looking constantly for messes to clean, it was Davis who’d pulled me away to quietly tell me to let her be. Her world was upended, and she was doing what she knew.

Since then, I’d backed off, taken her to lunch at Lou’s yesterday when Davis had practice. Tonight we would go out for dinner and then get her a cell phone. She’d declined to come to the appointment with me. Even though I wanted her in my sight at all times so she couldn’t do something rash like hop on the first bus back to Missouri, I was thankful for this time with Davis.

“Miss Maggie?”

Davis jumped to his feet at the mention of my name and I was still shaking my head, smiling at him as he hurried us down the hall.

After she took my weight and settled me into the room, and the round of common questions regarding how I was feeling, I left Davis to do a urine test, and when I returned, he was staring at a plastic set of rings on the doctor’s table.

“What is this?” He pointed at it, pale-faced.

I climbed onto the exam table. “They’re the circles that show what each centimeter of dilation means.”

His eyes widened so large he looked like a cartoon character. “I don’t… I can’t… I mean, my sisters have done this, and it’s amazing, but you’re going to be stretched that big?” He pointed to the largest circle.

“Trust me, not something I enjoy thinking about either. But it is a muscle that retracts.”

“I can fit my whole fist in there.”

“Let’s not try that out in real life, k?”

His head whipped in my direction, and his jaw dropped. He was still gaping at me in shock when a knock rapped on the door and it opened.

“Hey there, Maggie. How are we doing today?” Dr. Sally Flecks squeezed my shoulder as she walked by. “Oh, and you have company today. Hi there, I’m Dr. Sally Flecks, but please call me Sally. Doctor seems so impersonal given the relationship we’ll have over the next several months.”

She held out her hand, and Davis took it. “Davis Hall. Nice to meet you.”

“You too. I’m assuming you’re daddy?”

His cheeks turned a further sheet of white, and I reached out to hold his hand. He was falling apart and a part of me was grateful for it. He’d always been the put-together one.

Apparently, Davis Hall turned into a nervous fool when faced with the reality of being a dad.

Good to know.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, squeezed my hand so hard I had to wiggle my fingers to get him to loosen his grip. “I’m the dad.”

“Davis,” I whispered it to get his attention, and when his eyes met mine again, there was a wet sheen in them. “We’ve got this.”

He broke out in a smile. “Yeah, we do.”

“Okay, then.” Sally sat in her chair and pulled up my chart on her iPad. After a round of questions about how I’m feeling, how I’ve been eating, and my general level of energy and stress, she then moved to grab the monitor.

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