Page 103 of Anthem of Love and Loathing

Well, that’s interesting. I file that scrap of information away for later.

I keep reading, through the start of our relationship. That’s where the story thins. She mustn’t have taken her journal with her to Heart Ranch where the wedding took place. Otherwise, it would be full of hate and anger at this point.

It’s also the point where she starts questioning whether she should confess. But then gives absolutely zero clues to what she’s hiding.

“What were you keeping from me?” I keep flipping through the pages, reading backward and forward each time she felt regret for not coming to me.

I wonder if Doc will let it slip. If he does, is Riot going to come after me?

Doc knows about this. I must have missed it in my first read. Gotten distracted.

Why would Doc be aware? What information would he have that I didn’t?

And why was he concerned about her when she walked him out the other night?

Unless they were hiding something from me.

Unless he didn’t tell her there was nothing wrong when I had him check her out before we left for the wedding.

She’d puked over nothing.

Unless she’d actually puked over something I couldn’t see. Something small, but life changing.

I toss the journal aside and retrieve her memento box.

My heart is pounding in my ears. Nausea is eating away at my insides like acid. I can’t breathe. She would have told me if she were pregnant. She wouldn’t have hidden it from me. We told each other everything.

Except, she was testy as hell about me smoking weed around her on that trip. She wasn’t drinking. And she was over the top insecure for a woman who has more fight in her than anyone else. I thought admitting our feelings and making it official would make our relationship stronger. Instead, it had flipped some switch inside her.

What if the reason behind all her weird behavior was because she’d found out she was pregnant?

The contents of the box scatter across my covers. I pick up the pregnancy test in its plastic bag. It looks like the ones Doc uses, but it could easily be bought anywhere. It’s not evidence of anything other than Kelsey was pregnant at some point.

I rifle through all the bits and pieces and find nothing, but there are cards in their original envelopes. I open and empty each one. The pile on the bed doubles.

Maybe I am wrong. Maybe I am clutching at straws.

I asked her about the baby when I found the test and she hadn’t answered. But she’d shut down hard. Was that because it’s mine? Why didn’t she fucking tell me?

I’d let it go because I assumed I couldn’t be the father. But now...

I could wake Doc. Fire him if he doesn’t tell me the damn truth. Because someone has to, and it clearly isn’t going to be Kelsey.

A thin piece of shiny paper falls out of the envelope I am holding upside down. It falls onto the pile, blank side up. I pick it up, my knees giving way as I do.

I sit heavily on the edge of the mattress. I don’t have to look at the image for my breath to stall. Between my brothers, I have six nieces and nephews so far. And Rogue and Ivy have another one on the way. The only time I’ve seen this paper outside of a hospital is when it has been a picture of one of the babies.

I turn that piece of paper over like it’s fragile. The picture is in grainy black and white. It would be hard to make out if I hadn’t seen a heap of them in the last couple years. The dates on it are clear. This image was taken fifteen weeks after she left me. The baby is dated at nineteen weeks.

She was pregnant at the wedding.

Across the bottom of the paper in her careful print is our baby’s name. Harlowe Maddox.

She was pregnant with my baby.

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Kelsey