Page 81 of Five Stolen Rings

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Page 81 of Five Stolen Rings

“That’s just as bad!” I say as panic bubbles in my gut—and into my mind’s eye pops the image of a witch’s brew, or maybe the surface of some prehistoric muddy swamp, thick and gross and bubbling.

That’s what’s forming inside me right now: a witch’s brew of sheer anxiety, crampy and painful.

“My parents will never let me date a criminal, even if it’s you,” I go on.

“Your parents love me,” Jack counters. “I’ll explain the whole thing and they’ll think I’m an idiot, but they’ll still love me.”

“Oh—that’s possible.” My fingers drum on my thigh as my scattered brain works through potential outcomes. “That’s very possible.”

“Of course it is.” His voice is a bit softer now, and he reaches over, stilling my dancing fingers. “Calm down, Princess. Worst comes to worst, I’ll kidnap you and we’ll elope.”

A halfway manic laugh escapes my lips, bubbling over into something fully hysterical until there are tears streaming down my face and I don’t even know if they’re from laughing or crying.

“Maybe you should stay in the car,” Jack says when we pull up in front of Maude’s house. He’s looking at me with a disconcerted expression, and I don’t blame him, but I shake my head.

“No,” I say, wiping the tears from my eyes. “This is partially my fault. Let’s go. Really—I’m good.”

It’s only when I’m halfway out of the car that I realize I am not, in fact, good.

“Ah,” I say miserably, looking at the seat I was just sitting in and shifting uncomfortably. “That explains the cramps and the crying.”

“Hmm,” Jack says, leaning over my shoulder as we stare at the blood stain. “That will come out with a bit of peroxide.”

I hear the sound of a zipper, and I turn around just in time to see him pulling off his jacket.

“Can’t take you anywhere,” he murmurs as he ties the jacket around my waist, but there’s a little smile on his lips, and his eyes are alight with humor.

“Maybe Maude has a tampon,” I say in a small voice.

Jack shakes his head, his smile growing. “She’s in her sixties, Stella girl. You’re going to have to wait until we can get out of here and hit up a gas station.”

“You know,” I say, tightening the knotted jacket, “if you’re going to invite me into your life?—”

“Already established.”

“—Then it would be a good idea for you to keep feminine supplies on hand. Just—in case. For the future.”

“Mmm,” Jack says, nodding slowly, and he doesn’t even look grossed out.

Hot doctor boyfriend for the win!

“How heavy is your menstrual flow? What kind of products do you prefer?” my hot doctor boyfriend proceeds to ask, and my insides wilt.

Stupid doctor boyfriend with his stupid doctor brain.

This is the least-sexy conversation I’ve ever had. “Itvaries,” I mutter, my cheeks heating. “Depending on where in my cycle I am. We don’t need to discuss it in detail.”

He shrugs, a grin curling over his lips. “If you insist?—”

“I insist,” I snap. “Let’s just go inside.”

I swear I hear him chuckle, but he doesn’t say anything else as we hurry up the driveway and to the porch.

When we reach the front door, we don’t even have to knock. It swings open like we’re about to enter a straight-up haunted mansion, and honestly, I feel a little like I’m going to my doom.

Jack steps inside ahead of me, and I follow with my pulse jumping erratically.

“Maude,” he calls.