Page 61 of Not Your Romeo
“I am. I’m not staying, so write the order or do what you gotta do.”
“Ro,” Zig stressed my name in what I recognized as a plea for patience.
“Okay, well, I don’t see any reason why not. The neurologist agrees. That hematoma will heal in time, if given the chance. There are some things you’ll need to keep an eye out for just to be safe, and we have that appointment scheduled for you with the obstetrician. So, Cammie will bring the paperwork down and go over all the discharge instructions with you, and we’ll get you on your way.”
“Great,” I clipped.
Chapter Thirty
Bar Flies
Roisin
“Take me to the clubhouse,” I simply said.
Zig fastened his seat belt, pausing once it clicked to look me over for signs of seriousness. When I bugged my eyes, he raised his brows and gave a short nod. “You got it.”
I crossed my arms, silently protesting the entire ride to the Dirty Savages cesspool. When we arrived, I opened my own door, stepped out and slammed it before Zig could finish asking me to wait.
Rumi had waited long enough. I waved the prospect aside when I noticed him near the door. He looked from me to Ziggy, and promptly moved to the left without making a fuss.
“Ro,” Henny seemed surprised to see me.
He was sitting at the bar, with Griz and those two girls I didn’t care for. I hauled ass toward them, intent to pass without a word. Henny had other plans.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“I don’t know, where’s your daughter?” I threw my hands out, not slowing my pace.
“Ru–” He turned, hitching a thumb toward the back room. When he noticed the door was open, I read the curse on his lips, before he boomed. “Rumi?”
“Where is the bathroom?”
He pointed, toward the end of the bar, as he stormed toward the back room. I made my way to the door he indicated and gently knocked.
“Rumi? It’s me, Ro,” I called out.
Henny was postured for battle when he came out of that back room empty handed. He flew down the length of the bar, pausing as Zig gestured toward me. My attention riveted from him to the doorknob when it made a popping sound and turned.
Rumi’s face was blotchy, and wet. Her eyelashes were matted with tears and mascara was streaming down her face. That was all I saw before she launched herself into my arms and let it all out.
“Oh,” Henny gasped, shoving Dandy aside in his rush toward us.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, for both his and Rumi’s benefit. I rubbed her back and let her cry. “We’re good here.”
I nodded and rocked her in my arms. Eventually the sobs quieted, and her head grew heavy on my shoulder.
“She is barely gone, and I miss her so bad.” Rumi finally managed, before a sob distorted her last words into a throaty, wounded sound that any mammal would have recognized.
She was heartbroken and hurting beyond comprehension.
“That’s because you had a good one.” I ran my hand from her crown to shoulders and squeezed. “I didn’t even know her, and I can tell that much. Do you know how?”
She shifted her head and sucked in a rugged breath.
“Because I see her goodness and light in you, Rumi. I mean, come on. Look at your dad. You think it’s this grumpy bastard I see shining in you?”
Henny snorted, and Rumi’s gasping gave way to a choked bit of laughter.
