But as I stare at the heavy, protective arm locked around my waist, the thought instantly sours in my stomach.
If I wait until morning – if I tell him about a doctor's appointment like an afterthought over coffee – it will gut him. He rode through who-knows-what-hell to get back to this room.
Leaving him in the dark, even out of love, would feel like a betrayal. He’d be deeply hurt that I kept it from him for even a single night. For even an hour longer than I had to.
"Locke?" I say softly, my voice barely carrying over the quiet hum of the room.
"Yeah, baby?" he responds, his voice a low, gravelly rumble, his eyes remaining closed as his thumb absently traces a slow circle on my hip.
"I... I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow. At noon."
The effect is instant and terrifying.
Lock
