Beast: Learning to Breathe (Devil's Blaze MC #5)

“You really didn’t have to do this,” I tell Michael again.

In response, he gives me his signature grunt. The man just doesn’t speak a lot. It kind of makes me smile. I lean into the door, my head pressed against the window as I watch the rain begin to fall outside. I love the rain. I could watch it for hours upon hours. It feels…clean…it even smells clean. There are days when I feel like I’ll never be clean again.

We’ve pulled into the doctor’s office way before I’m ready. I give Michael a tentative smile. He’s pulled up to the door so I’m taking that to mean he’s not planning on going inside. That’s good…I guess. I’m starting to feel better when he’s with me. I should worry about that. “Thanks, Michael,” I tell him gently. I even find myself patting his hand again, which garners me another grunt, and makes me smile yet again.

The smile soon fades as I enter into the waiting area. I go to the desk and sign in, before taking a seat. I’m the only person in the room, and I figure it shouldn’t take long. After thirty minutes, I’m starting to realize I was wrong. I look through the glass, front entrance doors and see Michael out there. The rain has stopped and he’s standing beside his truck now, leaning over the side of bed, his head down as his hand rests against the top of the bedside. He’s so big and tall, he makes his truck look small. His face is hidden beneath the hair. He hasn’t pulled it back and it blends in with his long beard. His long sleeved blue flannel shirt covers every inch of his massive arms and is buttoned even to cover his neck. It looks good on him, but…wrong. His jeans are dark wash, with just the faintest hint of distress here and there while the big boots he wears ensures he looks like a man no one would mess with. I think he could even make the Dwellers quake in fear. That thought makes me smile. Michael picks that moment to look up and even through the distance and the glass door separating us, I’m sure he sees me. His eyes bore into me and the anger in that look makes my smile falter. In that moment, I wonder if Pastor Sturgill is right, because he looks like an avenging angel—beautiful but tragically filled with vengeance. My heart hurts for the pain I read clearly on his face.

“Ms. Graham,” the receptionist calls, pulling my attention away from Michael. I swallow down my nerves and walk to the front desk.

“I’m here,” I smile, my smile is met with a stern face though. Stern isn’t exactly the right word. It’s more like resting bitch face.

“There’s a conflict with your appointment. The receptionist shouldn’t have scheduled the appointment for today. Wednesdays are days when the doctor is not in the office.”

“But you’re the one who scheduled—”

“I’m very sorry, there’s nothing I can do.”

“But I’m scheduled for an ultrasound. They were supposed to check on the baby because I’ve been sick.”

“There’s nothing I can do. You do know there’s a free clinic to deal with people like you? If it’s urgent you should try there.”

It’s crazy, I know. They’ve been treating me like crap the entire time I’ve been coming to the doctor here. Yet, I hadn’t realized just how deep their hate went until just now when it slaps me in the face. I’ve taken a lot. I’ve paid over and over for my supposed crimes. I think I’m done. I’m about to tell her that when this large, ink-covered fist comes down against the reception desk.

“The doctor will see her today,” Michael growls. His fist hits the counter so hard that the stuff that’s on it literally bounces. I wonder for a second if it might crack and break, but miracle of miracles it holds together.

“Sir—”

“I don’t like you. I don’t like the way you spoke to Hayden. I’m done with you. I want to talk to your boss. Now.”

“But—”

“Now!” he growls, and the anger coming off of him is like nothing I’ve seen before. I’m nervous just witnessing it. His body is seriously vibrating and his voice is dark—deadly.

I spare a glance at the receptionist, and notice her face has gone white. She has also backed up a good five steps. If I was her, in the face of Michael’s wrath, I’d quickly go into another room. Maybe another state.

“Michael…” I whisper, thinking maybe I should talk him down. I’d hate for him to end up in jail over this.

Michael grunts at me, literally that’s all he does. Grunts. Then he turns back to look at the woman again. “You have two minutes and if I don’t have someone here, you won’t like what happens next,” he tells her, and this time his voice is quiet and soft, but somehow, it’s even more menacing.

I watch as the receptionist visibly swallows and runs from the room.

Oh boy…





27





Beast





I rub my hand along the back of my neck, the tension is getting to me. I can feel a hell of a headache coming on. I need my fucking head examined. Somehow, I’ve gone from this morning where I was done with all things Hayden to now, a few short hours later, where I find myself waiting in a dark room while she has a sonogram. A sonogram of the child she’s carrying. I never thought of myself as a masochist but fuck, maybe I am.

“Let’s see what’s going on in there,” the nurse says, watching me instead of Hayden. I don’t respond. This whole place is fucked up. When I heard the way that woman talked to Hayden, I had to put a stop to it. Hayden had been in the hospital. She needed to be monitored closely, and I don’t care what the fuck the problem is between her and Hayden, that child is innocent.

That’s the only reason I did it, too. It didn’t have shit to do with the look of hurt on Hayden’s face—not at all. Hayden is looking up at me now, and the look on her face bothers me. It’s almost like hero worship, and I’m no one’s fucking hero. I should tell her flat out! Tell her that I couldn’t care less how people treat her. I start to. I really do. It’s just when the nurse raises her sweater up and reveals her stomach I get sucker-punched.