Page 85 of Ren: Warlord Brides
“Yes. She is dehydrated, malnourished, and has a fracture.”
“I need to see her.” Emry slammed her hand to the control panel, and the door slid open.
“Hey, Ren,” Thalia said, finally trotting up. “We had an interesting day. Pashaal had a warrant to search the ship and—”
Emry stopped listening.
Gemma sat in the bed, pale and gaunt. For some reason, the quiet guy—Zalis or something—lurked in the corner.
“Hey, Emmy. He’s just like you described: a cartoon devil, but hot. He thinks he’s funny,” her twin said.
“He is funny, sometimes.” Emotion thickened her voice.
“I like him.”
“Oh, Gemmy-bean.” Tears rolled down her face. This was too much. Too big for one human heart to contain. These emotions couldn’t be expressed with a graceful little sniffle. This was a great big ugly cry, and she didn’t care. Gemma, her mirror, ugly cried right with her.
Emry crawled into the bed, careful of the IV drip and the cast on the ankle and hugged her twin like she hadn’t since they clung to each other during Invasion air raids. “I’m sorry I left,” she croaked.
“No. This is my fault. If I had just been tested—”
“No. You didn’t… I know why you didn’t want to be tested. I should have stayed. You were alone, and they took you.”
“Nah, you had to leave. You hated the bakery,” Gemma said.
Emry jolted. “What? No. I don’t hate the bakery.”
“I can’t believe how stubborn you are.” Gemma smoothed back the hair from Emry’s forehead. “Look, I don’t know what it takes to get you to be honest with me, but I was abducted and kept in a cage and was human bait in a booby trap, so the least you can do is admit that you hated the bakery.”
“God, you’re right. Do you need anything? Water? Juice? Morphine? I bet they can hook you up with really strong stuff here.”
“I think if I have any more water, I’ll explode. Your man kept pouring water down my throat.”
“Sounds like Ren.”
“This is good. I like this.” Gemma tightened her hold and sighed with contentment.
They lay there, listening to the shuffle of people in the corridor, the hum of machines, and the beating of her twin’s heart until Emry felt herself drifting off to sleep.
“I didn’t hate all of it,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“I liked how happy it made you and how it felt like Dad was with us.”
“I liked that too,” Gemma said.
“The hours blew.”
Gemma chuckled. “Yeah. Being your own boss has a lot of flaws.”
“You need minions if you’re planning to have anything resembling a healthy work-life balance.” Emry had wanted to hire more staff to ease the burden, but the money had never been there. Mostly, it had been her and Gemma working from open to close with the occasional part-timer to help during the busiest hours.
“Doesn’t matter now. I can’t imagine the bakery is still open,” Gemma said.
“The minions had keys.”
“But not the ability to pay rent or our suppliers. The bakery is gone.”
