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Hooking up with Tracianne kept me on a pretty even keel. I was calm and no longer so caught up in myself.

I mean, I guess I could say I had confidence, but that wasn’t really the right word. I was in love with Tracianne, and that somehow made me better.

Of course, I hadn’t told her. It was too soon, and I was still kind of processing the implications of loving someone that deep and that hard.

She was, after all, my stepsister, and we would have to deal with that strange circumstance.

We could make it work, but would the rest of society understand?

The entire situation, however, made the sex that much hotter. Between sneaking around the house and the danger of getting caught, it was if we were rebelling against our parents at the same time.

It was a weird thing to say, but I don’t think the sex would’ve been nearly as intense except in this situation. But then again, maybe it was just that the chemistry between us was that hot.

On a random afternoon, I snuck into Tracianne’s room. I had brought crayons and paper. I figured we could draw together. It was something to do. Being cooped up for so long, we had kind of run out of board games and Netflix movies.

“Coloring sound kind of fun,” she agreed. “Although it’s kind of a kid thing to do.”

“Yeah, but what else is there to do at this point?” I asked. “We’ve kind of exhausted the options in the house. Plus, we’ve had sex in every room except the master bedroom.”

“I’m not opposed to it,” she offered.

“No, way. Too risky,” I said. “Can you imagine getting caught in there? It would be ten times worse.”

“I think the idea of us getting caught having sex by anyone anywhere would be awful,” she said. “We’d be naked and totally vulnerable. Speaking of which, let’s do this in the nude.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

I shrugged and got naked. She did too. I assumed she was ready for sex again, which was fine with me.

“Notice anything different?” she asked.

“No,” I shrugged.

She took my hand and placed it against her belly. I could feel another heartbeat.

“Oh, my God,” I gasped. “Are you pregnant?”

“Yeah,” she nodded happily. “We’re gonna be parents!”

I was in shock but in a good way. It never even occurred to me to wear a condom. In retrospect, it probably would’ve been the smarter move, but I was too excited. And I couldn’t even say I regretted it. I had always wanted kids and with Tracianne, I knew they’d looked amazing.

“Wait, can we still do it?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah, it’s fine,” she assured. “You can’t hurt the baby by having sex. I read it online. And now I can’t get more pregnant.”

“This kind of changes everything, Traci,” I warned. “We’re on a timer here.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ll have to tell the folks now. They’re going to ask who the father is. It’ll be their first question,” I pointed out. “You can’t lie to them. They’re going to want to meet whomever the dad is.”

“Well, they can meet you,” she smiled. “We’ll just explain it to them.”

I guess I deserved that. So blithely had I been promising her that our relationship was no big deal, she went from being paranoid about getting caught to being confident no one would raise an eyebrow. At least, I was hoping that our news would be received that way.

“Look, it might be awkward for them at first,” she theorized. “But we’ve been locked up for months. We have plenty of time to reinvent ourselves. And my dad is no longer your stepdad after you two spent so much time together drinking so much whiskey; now he’s more of your wingman.”

“I don’t know about that,” I replied. “He might lose his shit, Trace. He’s a pretty manly guy. His macho side might decide to beat the crap out of me.”

“I know him, and I would bet differently. He’s a pussycat when it comes to me,” she assured me.

“I’m not even sure how this would work on a family tree,” I said. “It probably looks bad, from the outside, at least.”

“We’ll make it work, trust me, love,” she told me, smiling. “I trust you. Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course. But how will our kid explain this to his or her friends?” I worried. “I mean, kids can be pretty mean when it comes to other kids. What if he or she tells them we’re brother and sister?”

“Stepbrother and stepsister,” she corrected. “Jeez, at least say it right.”

“I know, but… you know what I mean.”

“I suppose we could just leave out the part about how we met,” she shrugged. “Why complicate his or her little life?”

“Yeah, but then there are his or her grandparents,” I pointed out. “That might get confusing. I mean, like, when he or she tells the other kids that he or she has only one set of grandparents.”

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