Page 86 of Where I Should’ve Been

“Everyone in that Stop and Go was looking at me,” I blurt, words tumbling out before I can stop them. “I know you said people in Molene wouldn’t recognize us, but I swear they did. My buying a pregnancy test is going to end up spreading all the way to Eileen’s lap and plastered across the front page of the damn Chronicle.”

Norah laughs, and I scowl. She glances my way briefly, the corners of her mouth still twitching as she steers the car down Josie’s long gravel driveway.

“I’m sorry,” she says, still smiling. “I’m not laughing at you, really. It’s just…the people in the Stop and Go were looking at you because you knocked down an entire tower of soup cans. Also, Eileen wouldn’t dare get her gossip from another town. That’s not her style. Plus, she hates Brandy Lockwood.”

“Who in the hell is Brandy Lockwood?”

“She runs the Molene Gazette. Basically, Eileen Martin 2.0.”

Once we’re in front of Clay and Josie’s house, Norah shifts into park and cuts the ignition. Her seat belt clicks free with a sharp snap that ricochets through my skull, and I instantly want to scream.

I can’t explain it—this anger that keeps boiling up or the ache that sits heavy behind my ribs. It’s like my emotions have staged a coup and I’m just the hostage.

“Well, then,” Norah ventures cautiously. “Shall we go inside?”

I nod instead of answering; gestures are all I’m capable of right now with these yo-yoing freaking emotions of mine.

“Right. Going inside, then.” She opens her door and climbs out gracefully, moving toward the house like someone untouched by chaos. Basically, the complete opposite of me—with my half-baked plans, nonexistent direction, and a potential life-altering surprise shaped like a tiny human with Tad Hanson’s eyes.

Norah lifts her dainty fingers to the door to knock while I drag my legs through metaphorical mud, and the stark contrast between the two of us has my anger renewing tenfold.

I seethe to myself, wrapping my fingers around the handles of the bag that contains the stupid test until they dig into the skin and turn it purple. It’s on the tip of my tongue to literally scream Josie’s house down like she’s one of the pigs and I’m a big bad, possibly pregnant wolf, but she opens the door before I get the chance, and the battle cry dies in my throat.

At the sight of her, I turn weepy.

Her hair is disheveled, her sweater oversized, and her eyes are sunken into the void of two deep, dark circles. Maybe it’s that she’s the embodiment of everything I’m feeling and then some—a freaking mess and a half and opposite of normal in every way—but one more swing of emotions and I’m going to launch myself right into outer space.

“You look like shit, sis. Are you okay?” Norah doesn’t beat around the bush to save feelings.

Josie flips Norah the middle finger but opens the door wider, stepping out of the way so we can step in. “Oh, I’m great. Come inside quick, maybe you’ll catch it.”

Norah twists at the waist, her eyes widening slightly. “Maybe you’re not pregs, Breeze. Maybe it’s just a stomach bug.” She laughs, waggling her eyebrows with her back toward Josie. “Seems to be going around.”

“I’m not puking,” Josie contests easily. “I’m just tired. And you’re not puking, but you’re an asshole.”

I snort, and Josie turns her attention to me. “So, you think you might be knocked up, huh?”

I sigh and glare at Norah.

She shrugs in apology, licking at her top lip. “Look, I’m sorry, but I had to let her into the circle of trust. She wasn’t going to allow us in the house otherwise.”

I groan. I didn’t even notice her on the phone, but I suppose she had a few minutes while I was rolling around on the floor of the Stop and Go with the soup cans to make covert moves. “I don’t think I’m pregnant, but seeing as I’ve been violently ill and emotionally unstable all morning, I suppose I should make sure.”

“You know you have to have sex to get pregnant, right?” Josie teases. “I think there was only one immaculate conception.”

I roll my eyes, and she squeals. It’s very un-Josie-like, which makes it even more annoying. “Come on. Your sister has already been squealing all the way to Molene and back. Not you too,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Breeze!” Josie snaps. “You have to give me a little squealing—a squeak, at least. I mean, this is news. Who have you been sleeping with? Last time we talked, you were considering celibacy and a vibrator as your five-year plan.”

“I’m not ready to talk about this yet. Maybe after the test, but not before.”

“Fine, fine. Then go take the fucker,” Josie insists. “Bathroom is the second door on the left.”

Plastic bag in hand, I walk the march of shame down Josie’s long hallway, glancing at pictures from her and Clay’s wedding on the walls and smiling at the pictures of both Summer and Autumn that flank them.

I want to linger—to stay here where it feels safe and good and familiar—but I don’t. It’s not who I am, not who I’ve ever been. I face things head on. I make plans and lists, and I get stuff done. If a test is the next step, a test is what I’ll take.

Stepping into the bathroom, I close the door behind me and lock it, even though I know Josie and Norah would never betray my privacy by coming inside without permission. It’s just a subtle comfort—a reminder of NYC in some weird way, I guess, since locking doors there was like a reflex.