Page 104 of The Bitterroot Inn (Jamison Valley 5)
I guess that means no on decorating the garage.
Turning, I watched Hunter walk toward the living room. His shoulders were hunched forward, and as he pressed his phone to his ear, he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I’ve got a headache,” Sabrina muttered to Beau.
I turned back around to see him kiss her temple. “Sorry, Shortcake.”
“Caffeine withdrawals. I wish I could take something.”
“What about Tylenol?” I asked.
She nodded. “I can but I don’t have any and I haven’t made it to the store yet.”
“I have Tylenol,” Mom said, coming back to the table. “One second.” Off she went in search of pregnancy-safe painkillers.
“Be back.” I stood from my seat and started toward the living room to find Hunter.
Behind me, Mom said, “Found it!” in the kitchen and shook the pill bottle.
That noise . . .
A chill crept down my spine and my mind snapped to a different place.
“Maisy, love.” Everett walked across the cold floor toward me. The plastic covering on the hospital bed beneath me crinkled as I pushed onto my elbows. “I want you to understand that your actions have brought this upon you. You should have terminated this pregnancy. I told you I had no interest in fathering a child. But no matter. The fetus will not be alive much longer.”
What was he saying? He was going to kill my baby? Our baby?
Everett reached into his pocket and pulled out an amber prescription bottle with a white lid.
“You’re going to take these.” The pills rattled as he shook the bottle. “You might survive them. That fetus won’t.”
“No!” I screamed but it was cut short when his hand whipped out and slammed into my cheek, stunning me silent.
“You will,” he growled. “Or I’ll slit Gigi’s throat right in front of you.”
I shook my head, frantically scrambling backward on the bed. I had to get away. I had to run. I had to protect my child.
But despite the panicked
questions racing through my mind, I could still hear that rattling sound above all others. The bottle rattled as Everett leaned his body over mine, pinning me to the bed. It rattled as he fought to pry my mouth open. It rattled as I kicked and clawed and twisted, trying to get free.
It rattled—
“Maisy?”
Everett’s mouth formed my name but it was Hunter’s voice that came out.
I blinked once. Then twice. Poof, the flash was gone. I was back in my parents’ house, standing in the hallway outside the living room. My senior picture was on the wall next to Michael’s and Beau’s. Coby’s baby picture was framed on the other side of the hall. And Hunter was standing right in front of me, his hands on my shoulders.
“Maisy? What’s wrong?”
I didn’t answer. I was still too busy inspecting the room. The beige walls. The white trim. The tan shag carpet.
“Maisy?”
“Huh?” I blinked, focusing my eyes on Hunter. “Oh, sorry.”
He frowned and grabbed my elbow, gently steering me to the privacy of the living room. When we were out of earshot of the others, he fisted his hands on his hips. “What was that? You were white as a ghost and you looked at me like . . . like you were scared of me.”
