True. But also, she intended to make absolutely sure that all her recent trauma and smoke inhalation hadn’t harmed her unborn child, and she had no desire to announce her pregnancy to Hugh under such fraught circumstances and in such a public place.
“Ah. Of course.” Recovering a sliver of his normal calm poise, Hugh released her wheelchair handles. “My apologies. I’ll remain in the waiting room.”
She tried her best to smile at him. “I’ll be fine, Hugh. I know you have more important things to do.”
He’d need to deal with the aftermath of his apartment fire. Also resume his interrupted meeting with the SERC chair and determine the architects of a world-ending conspiracy. Those tasks took precedence over waiting around for her, and not by a little either.
Hugh’s brow beetled.
“On the contrary,” he said evenly, with great precision. “I do not, in fact, have more important things to do.”
He didn’t want to leave her unprotected. Which was very chivalrous of him, but…as she’d said, he had other priorities. Not to mention other options.
“You can call Max.” She racked her exhausted brain, and her last few functional synapses did their best to fire in response. “Or…uh, Kip and Lorrie. Even Sabrina. They can get me out of here once I’m finished.”
“I’ll call to update them.” His entire body had visibly stiffened, and his expression had turned impassive. “From the waiting room. Where I’ll remain until you’re discharged from this facility.”
“We have a VIP area down the hall, Councilor Blacke,” the doctor offered as he claimed her wheelchair handles for himself, his own intensity having ratcheted downward at Hugh’s willingness to give her privacy. “Nurse Childress will show you the way and get you settled.”
“Thank you.” Hugh inclined his head. “I appreciate the offer, as well as your promptness in assessing Ms. Wexloff.”
After one last solemn scan of her pajama-clad form and dip of his head, he began to turn away. Was that…was thathurtcrinkling the corners of his bleak amber eyes?
“Hugh.” Gwen stretched out a hand. “Wait. Please.”
When he immediately retraced his steps, took that beseeching hand, and gently squeezed her fingers, she sighed in relief and squeezed back. And when she tugged at him pleadingly, he bent low without protest.
“I want you here,” she whispered in his ear. “I just feel terrible about wasting your time.”
His expression softened.
“Time spent with you or for you is no waste, Gwen.” He raised her hand and pressed a brief, sweet kiss to her knuckles. “Take as long as you need. I’ll be here when you’re done.”
After that, she let him leave without further protest. Once the door to the exam room had shut behind her, she eyed the doctor carefully. “We’re covered by doctor-patient confidentiality and HIPAA, correct? Whatever I tell you, you can’t tell anyone else?”
The werewolf tilted his head, studying her carefully.
“Within certain limits,” he said, and explained those limits.
For the doctor to truly help her, she needed to tell him about her nosebleeds and nausea. Not just explain the symptoms, but specify what was causing her such physical upheaval. Which would mean telling him about her pregnancy—and also the newfound power of her recent visions. Even though any outsider knowledge of the latter could prove highly dangerous.
From what he was saying, however, physician-patient privilege wouldn’t allow him to share that knowledge. No matter what questions various officials or conspirators might ask him.
“Thank you for explaining.” With his help, she heaved herself onto the exam table and lay down gratefully. “In that case, let me tell you everything that’s been happening.”
Everything not involving either zombies or conspiracies, anyway. Hopefully that would be enough.
16
The doctor wheeled over to his laptop. Took copious notes as she spoke, his bushy eyebrows twitching when she described the body-racking intensity—but not the actual content—of her recent visions. No doubt accustomed to oracles’ typical secretiveness, he didn’t press for details about what she’d witnessed.
“Well, then.” At the end of her soliloquy, he slapped his knees and got to his feet. “Let’s see what’s happening, shall we?”
As he took her temperature in her ear, she finally got to ask the question that had been preoccupying her since New Year’s Eve. “Could my pregnancy have caused my power to ramp up so drastically? Because I can’t think of any other reason for the sudden change.”
Maybe her offspring-in-progress was the world’s most gifted oracle and had somehow lent her all this unearned power? Eventhough Enhanced humans famously failed to pass down their powers to their kids almost one hundred percent of the time?
The doctor immediately shook his head. “No. There’s no evidentiary support for that theory in any known study of oracles and pregnancy. Your power is your own, Ms. Wexloff, not your unborn child’s.”
