Page 67 of Extraction Play
“Let’s go.” Parker’s voice stirred her out of the quiet contemplation, always the Dom with his commands.
Pixie grabbed her messenger bag, slipped the strap over her shoulder, and exited the car. With each step toward the pale hospital, her feet dragged heavier and heavier, but she continued forward.
Last night and this morning had been some of the best moments of her existence. The way Eva had watched the tides with her beforetaking her apart in such a memorable way, waking up with her to fresh hope she hadn’t ever experienced.
She clutched to that glimmer with all her might.
Parker’s quiet steadiness at her side settled some of her nerves. As the sliding glass doors opened, the chemical hospital scents assaulted her nostrils, and she was vaulted back to far too many experiences in a place like this.
“Pixie.”
She blinked. Shit, she’d stopped moving. “Fuck, sorry. It’s okay. I’m okay.”
She forced a breath down her throat because she’d paused on that front as well. She was a little dizzy, but she could do this.
“No apologies,” Parker said. “We don’t need to rush there.”
“I can make it to the third floor without my weak knees giving out on me,” she replied, a little sass creeping into her tone.
Parker snorted. “Miss me with the weak knees nonsense. You forget I’ve seen you on them for years.”
A sharp laugh exploded from her, so loud it drew a few stares from the people at the information desk. The hysteria bubbled through her too strong to give a fuck. She’d take this over trembling any day.
Somehow, she made it to the elevator, and Parker got in beside her, a steady presence. They zipped up to the third floor all too fast, the ding, ding, dings echoing through the chamber. Pixie sucked in a breath to try and bolster herself for whatever she’d face in the ICU.
When they stepped out of the elevator, Pixie bypassed the chairs in the waiting room and headed straight for the front desk.
“I’m visiting Maisie Monroe,” Pixie said to the nurse.
“Let me get you a pass,” she said. “Him as well?” Her gaze pivoted to Parker, who loomed beside her.
“Just me.” Even though Parker taking her here had offered immense relief, she needed to do this next step by herself.
Parker placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll let you know when Eva shows up.”
The firm way he said it brooked no room for any other alternative—and the crazy thing was, she believed Eva would come too.
The nurse handed over the visitor pass, and Pixie gripped it tight, the firm edges biting into her palms, then walked to the room number she’d been given on the phone.
Her heartbeat thumped louder and louder as the numbers ticked down, and she slowed her steps as if she could stave off the inevitable.
The unknown lay waiting for her in the room, and in her experience, that was never gentle or kind.
When Pixie stopped in front of the room, she peeked inside.
Maisie sat upright in the bed, talking to the doctor. The air escaped Pixie’s lungs. Relief swarmed through her, even though she didn’t have a clue what the diagnosis was. This sight was far better than she’d anticipated.
Pixie rapped her knuckles at the edge of the door. “Hey.”
Maisie looked up, and her gaze softened. The doctor strode toward her before she took another step inside.
“I’m Doctor Clarence. Are you family?” he asked. He looked to be about her age, though the rings under his eyes spoke to how long he’d probably been on shift today.
“I am,” she said, trying to project a confidence she didn’t feel. “Her daughter.”
“It was the only way to escape them,” Maisie said a little overly loud. “They wouldn’t stop following me.”
Pixie’s skin prickled. The paranoia must’ve set in.