Page 112 of The Has-Been

“What?” I ask as I wipe my forehead.

“I just had déjà vu.” She says, staring at me before shrugging her shoulders. “Weird.” She exhales, shrugging it off before adding, “Let me know if you need anything.”

My door closes, but as I sit on the edge of my bed, I go stone cold.

Because I, too, have that sudden feeling that this exact thing has happened before—Reese popping her head in to check on me as I throw up in a trash can…

My stomach drops.

No.

No. No. No.

I pull my phone out, looking at my period tracking app. Even with my birth control, my periods have still been regular. As I scroll through the app, I double-check what I already know.

My fucking period is late.

My hands are shaking at my sides. Thinking back to the night at the cabin, when I told Liam he didn’t need a condom because I was on the pill.

My breaths are coming far too quickly as I scramble for my purse and keys, knowing I need to run to the pharmacy. When I fight the nausea and weakness from lying in bed the last few days, I pull my bedroom door open, but I find someone staring at me from the other side.

“You need a pregnancy test,” Reese blurts as she stares at me. Clearly, she’s realized, as I have, why we both feel like we’ve lived through this moment before. It’s because we had a moment very similar to this, when I blamed my morning sickness on bad sushi.

“Yup,” I sound as I throw her my keys. She twirls them in her fingers, pulling me in a hug without hesitation now that we are both convinced this isn’t something she can catch. My heart is beating in my chest like a fucking drum. How could I be pregnant? Isn’t the pill like 99% accurate?

But knowing my luck, I’m probably a part of that 1%

The timer on Reese’s phone goes off.

We both look at each other.

“You want me to look?” she questions, clearly remembering that last time we did this, she was the first one to know. Even though deep down, I think part of me already knew—a mother’s intuition or something like that.

“No,” I say, standing from the edge of the bathtub and toward the sink, where the test lies upside down.

I let out a deep exhale.

Looking over my shoulder just once. Reese stands behind me, a soft smile on her face. I return the gesture, thankful she’s beside me again. That’s who she is, though: the person who’s always there for other people, but never herself.

The lines blur from the tears beading in my eyes, but it’s clear what it says.

I hand the test over to Reese as I try to settle myself.

“It’s okay to feel a little sad,” she whispers. Her hands wrap around me as she hugs me. “I know some part of you was secretly hoping for a different outcome. I think that’s normal—especially after everything…” I wipe at my tears running down my face. When I look up, I find a reflection of myself in the mirror. The same broken woman I saw the last time. In a bathroom, surrounded by love—by Reese.

And yet, that woman had never felt more alone.

But there is only one problem this time…

I am to blame for the loneliness.

I was the one who left. He wanted to stay.

And I walked out.

I was too scared, too selfish, and closed off to let him in. Yes, he had lost himself. Yes, he needed me to leave him so he could find himself once more. But I also ran, too scared to face him and admit my failure.

But I didn’t fail. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. If love alone could have spared our baby that night, then it would have lived forever.