Page 67 of Ronen
The kid disappeared and I helped Ronen to his feet. He shakily made it to the sink, where he washed his hands. Gently steering him out of the restroom, I sat him on a bench seat close to the entrance door. I smiled when the employee brought over a soda for him, pulling out my wallet to pay him.
He waved me off with a smile, “Don’t worry about it. I hope you feel better.”
Ronen gave him a weak smile, watching as he made his way back to the counter and customers.
“I’m going to bring the truck around,” I told him. “You sit here. Don’t move. I’ll come in and help you out.”
“Mason, I can walk.” Ronen took a sip of the soda, swallowing slowly.
“And I’m parked way out.” The parking lot had been packed when we’d arrived and we’d had to walk a distance to the door. “You can sit here and wait, or I’ll carry you to the truck. Your choice.”
Hands on my hips, I waited for him to make his decision. When his shoulders slumped, I knew I had won this argument.
“I’ll sit,” he grumbled, not at all happy about it, but I didn’t care.
He was white as a sheet and shaking. On the way to my truck, I pulled up my insta-cart app and placed an order to be delivered to my house from the big box store a few miles from me for items I thought would come in handy for his upset stomach. With any luck, and a generous tip, it would be waiting for us when we got back to my place.
Taking Ronen to his home wasn’t an option. He lived way too close to his parents, and the last thing I needed, if he really was pregnant, was to turn around and find Jamie Sinclair standing there.
Nope, not happening. We had enough to deal with at the moment, without me having to deal with Ronen’s scary as fuck dad.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ronen
Groaning, I blinked my eyes open, wondering for a second where I was. This was not my bed, or my room, for that matter. And there was a large, warm body, that definitely wasn’t Mason snuggled up to my side. Reaching a hand out, I ran my fingers through the short, coarse fur.
Dark puppy dog eyes beamed back at me, a rough tongue licking the side of my face.
“Ugh, gross,” I mumbled, wiping the dog slobber off my cheek. “I know where your tongue has been.”
“Oreo, down,” Mason ordered, his hand appearing in my line of sight, and snapping his fingers.
Oreo whined, yawned, then laid his ginormous black and white head on my chest.
“Oof,” I groaned, as he pushed all my oxygen out of my body in one instant. “Helistens well.”
Mason leaned up on an arm, giving the dog an angry look. Which lasted about two seconds, before he melted, because who could stay mad at that face. “He usually is much more well behaved. He’s feeling protective of you, I think.”
Rubbing my fingers between the dogs ears, I smiled. “You’re a good baby puppy.”
Mason shook his head at my babyish voice. “Do not encourage him. And he is neither a baby or a puppy. How are you feeling?”
“Okayish, I think,” I admitted, though it might be too soon to tell for sure, since I hadn’t really moved yet.
Thankfully, I hadn’t puked anymore, but I had fallen asleep on the ride to Mason’s place. I barely remembered him carrying me inside, up the stairs, undressing me, and tucking me in.
“You want to talk about your nightmare?” He asked quietly.
Quickly averting my gaze, I asked, “What nightmare?”
“The one you had last night. You were thrashing around, covered in sweat, and whimpering. You calmed down when I rubbed your back. You don’t remember?”
“I don’t remember any of that,” I lied, because I had woken enough from the grip of the dream, when Mason had started stroking my skin. But I didn’t want to talk about my stupid dreams.
“Okay,” Mason turned and then he was waving a white, rectangular box in my face. “This says it’s best used first thing in the morning.”
Taking the box from him, I saw it was a pregnancy test. “Why do you even have this?”
