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“Why wait until she’s done? A little blood never bothered me,” Shepherd groans.

“True,” Saint agrees, but I ignore them.

“I’m sorry, what!?” My voice rises. “First off, I’m not getting pregnant.” Even though I’ve been having dreams every damn night about being big and round with their baby. Every time I wake up and realize it’s not real, that I’m not pregnant, I find myself disappointed. It’s fucked up because I don’t want to get pregnant. I don’t want kids right now.

Do I?

God, these men are fucking with my head.

“If not this month, there’s always next. The sooner the better, though,” Maverick says with a shrug.

“Second...” I glare at him. “I ask you again: How did you know I was going to start my period? And how the fuck would you know when I’m ovulating?” Hell, I don’t even know that.

“The app on my phone.”

“The app?” I question, blinking slowly as his words click. “You have an app that tracks my period?”

“Yes,” he answers as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You should download it; it’s very helpful.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Shepherd groans.

“What the fuck is going on?” I whisper, more to myself. “Of course you track my fucking period. Just like you had cameras in my house, stole my therapist's notes, and read my damn dream journal. Can’t a girl get any damn privacy?"

“No,” all three guys say at the same time. I’m mad, but I’m not really mad. I was shocked at first when I found out about all the other stuff. Then my fucked up mind found it hot, and I banished all dirty thoughts out of my head.

“You’re crazy. This is all fucking crazy.” I feel like I’m saying this on a daily basis.

Maverick grabs one of the chocolate bars and pulls the wrapper down. “So you don't want the chocolate then?” he asks, raising a brow as he holds it up. “Because if you don’t, I’ll eat it.”

I give him my best death glare, then reach out and snatch the bar from him before he can take a bite. Mine, thank you very much. “Of course I do.” I take a big bite and chew angrily as I continue to glare at him.

“Be a good girl and eat.” He points to the food on the table. “Not just junk.”

And then he turns around and leaves, as if we were not in the middle of a conversation about him tracking my damn time of the month!

“Stupid men,” I mutter, taking a seat at the island. “Overbearing, meddling men. No personal space at all. Wanna wipe my ass too.”

A snort of laughter sounds behind me, but I don’t look their way, flipping them the middle finger as I dig into the fruit in front of me. It’s cold, juicy, and refreshing. Just what I needed.

As I dig into my food, loving every bite, the fight within me starts to leave.

Maverick did all of this for me. He didn’t have to. He wanted to. Because he cares about me.

Dammit. Damn him. Fucking hell.

And now I can’t help but feel all warm and fuzzy inside because no one has ever taken care of me like this before.

When I’m done, I put the bowls in the sink.

“Anything else you want to tell me?” I ask.

“Umm.” Shep takes a moment to think. “You know about the stalking, the cameras, the journal, the tracking app on your phone. What about the tracker in your neck?”

“I knew it,” I hissed. The fucker just grins.

“I cloned your phone,” Saint throws out there.

I swing my gaze to him. Fucked up thing is, I’m not even surprised. “Of course you did,” I sigh. “Maybe I should just put a damn collar and leash on so you can be my owners.” I roll my eyes.