The Girl of Diamonds and Rust (The Half Shell Series Book 3) by Unknown Read Free Book Online

one of us he’s trying to convince. Neil sounds worried and kind of despondent.
    As we pass by the high stucco wall into the clinic parking lot, I wonder if that’s how we look to people today: worried and despondent. Like a couple going through shit. Only this isn’t our shit. It’s mine and Alan’s. Even if Alan doesn’t know it and Neil has only stepped in as some kind of nice guy surrogate.
    He drops my hand and pulls back the glass door into the waiting room. I step in, pausing to let my eyes adjust to the change of light, and my gaze does a quick scan of the room. Jeez, it’s crowded, nearly every vinyl-covered metal chair is occupied, and there are a half a dozen girls working beyond the bulletproof safety glass. Bulletproof glass? God, what am I doing here?
    Neil’s hand moves to my back, guiding me forward toward the counter. “You need to check in there,” he says quietly.
    I nod, wondering why Neil seems to know more about what I’m supposed to do than I do. Maybe he’s been through this before. There is a lot about Neil’s history with his fucked-up ex-girlfriend that I still don’t know, but I’ve pretty much assumed that the parts he hasn’t shared with me were really intense and grim.
    I take from the check-in nurse the clipboard shoved at me beneath the safety glass separating us.
    “Fill that out. Answer all the questions, front and back, and bring it back when you’re done.”
    Her tone of voice is abrupt, matter-of-fact and efficient in this moment that is anything but matter-of-fact to me.
    “There are two chairs over there,” Neil says, and I follow him to the far side of the room and sink down beside him.
    I stare down at the form, willing myself not to look back up at the other people here. Christ, it’s bad enough knowing why I’m here. I sure as hell don’t like knowing why they’re here. Of course, everyone is not here for an…
    I tap my pen against the clipboard. Jesus Christ, what kind of questions are these? They make me feel like a slut just reading them… do you have safe sex?…what kind of birth control are you on?…how many sexual partners have you had?…how often do you have sex?…have you ever had an STD?
    Why do they want to know all this? I don’t even want to know this about myself. Cringing, I drag my eyes back up to the first line, not finding that one any easier to answer than the rest of the questions. Name?
    I freeze, unable to write. Damn, I hadn’t thought about that, putting my name on this form. A permanent record of the biggest Chrissie low point in my life. The pen hovers above the sheet and it feels like this becomes real, a forever part of me, the minute I put my name there.
    Neil stares down at the clipboard, frowns, and leans into me. “What’s wrong?”
    I move my face close to his ear and whisper, “I don’t want to tell them my name.”
    Neil exhales a breath, ragged and impatient. “Chrissie, medical records are private. No one can access them. It’s no big deal. No one will ever find out about this unless you tell them. Fill out the form.”
    My lids go wide. “How do you know people can’t find out about this? How do you know that?”
    “I just do.” He looks aggravated, and he runs a hand through his hair again. He waits for me to fill out the form, and when I don’t, he exclaims, “Fine. Write ‘Chrissie Stanton.’ That way it won’t matter if anyone ever sees it.”
    There’s a touch of bite in his voice and it leaves me feeling like I’ve just had the wind knocked out of me and really shitty about having Neil holding my hand through this.
    “I can’t do that.”
    “Yes you can. I told you to. It doesn’t matter. It’s no big deal. Do it.”
    “It wouldn’t be right.”
    Neil looks away, his jaw clenching slightly. “None of this is right, Chrissie. Just do it.”
    I flush. I’m not sure what just made him angry, but my emotions are too much of a jumbled mess for me to ask and I don’t think I want to