Done [Running to Love 4] (Siren Publishing Classic) by Allyson Young Page A

nurse meant the royal “we.” She pushed away her unusual attitude and forced a smile. “I’m okay. I’d like to get ready and leave if I may.”
    “The doctor makes his rounds right after breakfast, and if your blood work comes back satisfactorily, then I’m sure you’ll be discharged before lunch. You’ll be able to eat something far tastier than what we serve! The lab tech is in the room beside this one and you’re next on the list.”
    Lacey knew the woman was being cheerful for her sake, and wanted to let Marie’s bonhomie penetrate the heavy blanket of sadness that was settling over her, but it was hard. She contented herself with an upturn of her lips and hoped it passed for a smile. No way was she staying here one more minute than she had to, and if she seemed depressed or upset, they would probably make her see a social worker or somebody. She just wanted to be home in her little bed where she could pull the covers up and recuperate in time for work on Monday. She thought, with considerable bitterness, that the miscarriage had at least happened on a Thursday so she wouldn’t miss too many days on the job. Tears of loss and self-pity gathered in the corners of her eyes, and she blinked furiously. The nurse handed her a tissue and clearly contemplated saying something further. Lacey knew there was some bad news coming even before Marie unpursed her lips and said, “Your, uh, Greg, that is, Mr. Jackson is waiting in the hall to see you. Apparently he’s been there all night.”
    Lacey’s heart leapt into her throat and lodged there for a moment before dropping back into her chest like a stone. He was going to be the death of her. She could see her hands trembling and tucked them under the covers, hoping Marie hadn’t noticed. Marie was a buxom blonde, the type of woman Greg used to favor, maybe did again, and Lacey knew he had worked his charm on her to full effect. She longed for Sheila to return and asked Marie where she was.
    Marie’s baby blue eyes narrowed, and Lacey realized she had offended the nurse. She hastened to add, “I didn’t have a chance to thank her yesterday before I fell asleep.”
    Marie’s expression relaxed, and she assured Lacey that she would pass her gratitude on, and then said, “I’ll just help you clean up a little, get you to the bathroom, and then you and Detective Jackson can have breakfast together.”
    Lacey closed her eyes against the other woman’s avid stare. She had no ally there. She went for broke. “I don’t want any visitors, thanks. I’ll just get cleaned up and eat.”
    Whatever Marie was going to say was interrupted by a tattoo of fingernails tapping on the door, and Lacey’s stomach unclenched when a little redhead poked around the frame. “Ms. Munroe? I need to poke you.”
    Marie said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Her back was rigid as she marched out the door, and Lacey could empathize. She had never liked to disappoint Greg either. Too bad. The little lab tech found a vein without any trouble and drew enough blood to satisfy a whole family of vampires. As soon as she left and the door swung closed, Lacey pushed her way out of the confining hospital linens and put her feet on the floor. The room swung crazily for a few seconds and then settled back into balance. The cold tile helped to ground her, and Lacey made her way, carefully, to the bathroom, holding onto the metal sides of the bed and then the little bedside table. Aside from a little dizziness and a whole lot of weakness, she didn’t have a problem, but it was lucky that the bathroom was so close. She used the toilet and discarded her protection and plucked another off the shelf, focusing on the task and ignoring the reason for it. She stayed sitting, reaching over to run water into the sink, the high, U-shaped faucet splashing first cold, then warm water, and she dampened a washcloth. She scrubbed at her face and neck, then threw the cloth into the hamper. There was a little