Heathen: A Dark Enemies to Lovers Romance (Redwood Rebels Book 2) Rachel Leigh (ebook reader with built in dictionary .txt) 📖

in record time. Lars pulled right up front and had a few choice words with the valet when he ordered him to get a wheelchair. I told him I didn't need one, but he insisted. Then he threatened some donation to the hospital and went as far as threatening the guy's job when he said there weren't any available. Lars made him go to the second floor to find one. Five minutes later, I'm climbing into it. "I've got this. Get your hands off of her." He swats the guy’s arm away. "Go do your fucking job."

"Lars! Stop it. He's trying to help the best he can."

"Well, he needs to try harder." Once I'm in the chair, he pushes me through the doors himself, tossing daggers at the valet. "You fuck up my car and I'll do the same to your face."

My face falls into my hands while I try to hide it, hoping that no one sees me. Not because I'm in hiding right now, but because Lars is so embarrassing. As crazy as it is, a small part of me is attracted to his bad boy persona. But being a straight-up jerk isn't necessary.

Lars checks us in, and once again, I'm feeling like a small child having him always do the adult stuff for me. When the receptionist tells him it will be a few minutes, I immediately grab him by the shirt as I sit in the chair next to him. I shake my head and mouth, "Don't!"

His eyes narrow as he searches my face for how angry I'll be if he does.

Then he does it anyway.

"If you don't get my girlfriend into a room right now, that new wing that's being built in the ICU will be postponed until twenty-thirty. Kick someone out, clean a bed—I don't fucking care. But I'm not leaving this desk until we have a room. And it better be sanitized."

My eyes pinch shut and my chin drops to my chest. Another jab has me grabbing my side again. It's this tugging and pulling sensation. Like someone is trying to pull my ovaries right out of my stomach.

He catches me holding tightly to my stomach. "Now!" Grabbing the attention of every person in triage.

Three minutes later, we're in a room and a nurse is taking my vitals. "Well, your vitals look great. We'll get you in a room right away," she rolls her eyes at Lars, but he seems pleased with himself.

"Appreciate that." His voice is now unfazed and polite. He sticks close to my side and though, I'm in pain and unsure what's going on, it feels good to have someone in my corner who wants to be there. It's in this moment that I realize how safe me and my baby will be because we have him. I feel cherished. I feel loved.

When the nurse takes the handles of the chair, Lars steps up. "I'll push her. You just lead the way."

I bite my bottom lip, trying to hold back from swatting him with the back of my hand, but I wouldn't be able to reach him anyway.

We travel down a narrow hallway where the nurse scans her badge and two large doors open. She leads us into the first room on the left. Lars pushes me next to the bed and I stand up to get on it.

"You'll need to put this on. The radiologist will come for you in a few minutes for an ultrasound."

My heart begins to twitch. A pang of excitement overpowers the shooting pain beneath my rib cage. "We get to see the baby." I look at Lars who cracks a smile.

Lars doesn't hold the same enthusiasm as I do. And that would be because Lars is a realist. Me? I'm the dreamer. We balance each other pretty well, but in this moment, I need his optimism. Deep down, I know the baby is fine. I can feel it in my heart. If something were wrong, I would know, wouldn't I? Mother's instinct or something like that.

The nurse opens then closes the door and once I'm sure she's gone, I stand up. "It's gonna be ok," I reassure Lars, once again.

"Yeah. Everything is fine." He forces a smile. I pull my shirt over my head and Lars wraps the gown around me. I leave my bra on because I'm not having a mammogram or anything, so all they need is access to my stomach.

We both sit in complete and utter silence. I never knew the sound of nothing could be louder than the sound of everything.

There's a subtle knock at the door and a girl walks in. She's young, probably early twenties. A nice tan, dark chocolate-colored eyes and jet-black hair. "Hi, I'm Mary and I'll be taking you down the hall for your ultrasound. Do you prefer the wheelchair?" She looks from me to Lars and I'm not really sure who she's asking. She must have caught wind of Lars' outburst minutes ago.

"Yes. She'll be in the chair," Lars says as he takes my hand and stands me up. I'm trying really hard to hold back an outburst of my own. It's great that Lars is trying to be so helpful, I really appreciate it. But my entire life, I've done everything for myself and I'm going to need him to allow me to make some decisions on my own if this is going to work out in the long run.

I take a seat in the chair and roll my eyes at Lars. He squints his brows. "What?"

"You know what." I leave it at that and let him push me while Mary walks a few steps ahead of us.

"Do you know how far along you are?" Mary asks, without looking back at us. She scans her badge at a door and pushes it open, holding it with her hand so Lars can wheel me into the dark room.

"Umm. Yeah. I'm about ten weeks. I think." Originally I told Lars I as eleven weeks, last