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“Because I told Logan I'm too sick to see him. He’ll call my bluff and try to come over.” I grab the bag and head upstairs. I don’t need Dad coming home in the middle of us waiting for the results. “I don’t want him worrying or trying to come see me. If I am pr…”
I can’t say it. The thought of being a teen mom sickens me. I had a plan. I was going to go to UF. I was going to study medicine and become a Physician’s Assistant. I was going to get married—hopefully to Logan— and wait until my late twenties, when I was financially stable to have a child. This…I exhale a shaking breath. This would ruin everything.
Sarah pulls me into a hug. She must sense my internal breakdown because I’m seriously freaking out. What if Logan doesn’t want the baby? Do I abort it? Could I go through with adoption? Both options seem impossibly hard right now. “Hey, hey. Don’t cry.”
I didn’t realize I was. I pull back, sniffling, and wipe my cheeks. “I guess I should get this over with. No sense in freaking out yet.”
“No sense in freaking out at all.” Sarah assures me. “Everything will be fine.”
In the privacy of my bathroom, I read the directions on the box. Three times. Just to make sure I don’t screw it up. They’re pretty straight forward. Pee on the stick. Wait three to five minutes. And either jump for joy or break down in tears.
My bladder, of course, chooses this moment to be shy. Figures, when I need to pee it doesn’t want to. Eventually, after enough pushing to move a tiny poop, I finally pee. I cap the stick. Set it on the counter. Pull my shorts up, then reach for my phone. I wanted to set a timer, but the stick already has decided my fate.
I look down at it, all color draining from my face and must make a noise because Sarah barges into the bathroom. “What? What's wrong?”
I hold the stick out and she takes it. My legs give out and I fall to the ground. Sarah’s by my side in an instant, rubbing soft circles on my back. Whispering what I think are comforting words. I can’t hear them. All I hear is my mind reading the results aloud.
Pregnant.
52
Danika
Logan slinks up behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist. He pulls me tight against his chest and I go rigid but he doesn’t notice. He’s too excited by our surprise reunion. I’ve only been gone a week—using the excuse my Nona needed an emergency helper after hip surgery (which she really had)— but by the way he’s holding me it must have been a long week.
Logan’s head dips, lips finding the crook of my neck. I smell whiskey on his breath, which is odd because while I’ve seen Logan drink, I know his secret. The whole party boy persona, it’s a ruse. He drinks, but not usually anything beyond a few sips. Only once has he smelt the way he does right now, and that was a bad night.
Teeth sink into my shoulder, and I shiver, fear sneaking through me as he squeezes my tighter. I take a step forward, untangling Logan’s arms from around me and turn. I reach up, touching Logan’s cheek and he leans into my hand. He gazes down at me, deep brown eyes pools of adoration and my resolve cracks. I’m running out of time, but I can’t do this. Not tonight. “I should go.”
“Baby.” Logan grasps my arm. He studies me, a crease forming between his brows. “What’s wrong?”
“I…” I bite my lip, willing my tears to stay hidden behind my lashes. I can’t break down. I’ve spent too many hours crying, hiding in my room, feeling sorry for myself. “I don’t feel well.”
“Are you getting sick again?” Logan doesn’t wait for my reply. He slides his hand down my arm until our fingers tangle together. “Let’s go. This time, I’m taking care of you.”
A shiver creeps down my spine. I hate lying to him, hiding from him, but I needed to figure out what I wanted to do about our situation. I should have waited until tomorrow to try and talk to Logan but it’s taken me this long to work up the courage. Now that the moment is here, I’m not ready. I shake my head. “No, stay with your friends.”
He lifts my hand to his lips, kissing my palm. “The only reason I came out tonight is because I thought you were still visiting your Nona. I missed you.”
I nod and swallow the lump in my throat. I missed him too, more than words can convey. I guess we can hang out tonight. One more day won’t make a difference, won’t change my mind. Besides, I really did miss being in his arms. “Are you good to drive? Or should I?”
&nb
sp; Logan
The drive back to our houses is silent. The only sounds are my heart in my ears and our breaths in the car. Occasionally Dani sniffles, and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. Her stomach flu must have turned into a head cold. Or maybe she caught something on the plane back from Georgia. I lay my arm across the center console, palm up. She slips her fingers in mine, but everything feels wrong. They are heavy and cold. I squeeze her hand, hoping to feel the warmth she usually emits, but there’s nothing.
“So,” I say, my free hand gripping the steering wheel so hard it’ll probably have indents in it. I know Dani was worried about me drinking and driving, but I’m not drunk. Not even close. If she’d walked in five minutes earlier, I wouldn’t have needed that shot of whiskey. It just…helps. With her gone this week, I’ve struggled to distract myself.
The local paper released an article today about three families pressing charges against Dr. Shaffer. Mom flipped out when she read it. I’m starting to think they might have had an affair going on, which makes him abusing me even more fucked. Cooper eyed me curiously, silently connecting the dots. I bolted out of the house before he could ask any questions. Of all the days for Danika to come home, I’m glad it was today. “Is everything okay?”
Dani turns her head, averting her gaze out the window. “Not here.”
Three blocks and we’ll be home. Three blocks and I can finally hold her in my arms. I don’t sleep well when she’s not by my side. I toss and turn and wake up just as tired as when I laid down. Sick or not, I’m sleeping by her side tonight. “You know I love you. Right?”
She exhales a small, pained laugh. “I know.”
That’s not good. She always says I love you back. I have this feeling in my bones that tonight’s conversation isn’t going to end well. I rub my thumb over her palm, hoping that somehow, she can feel how much I need her in my life. After one week, I’m falling apart. What will happen to me if she leaves? “You are my forever, Danika. No matter what happens with us, I will never love someone the way I love you.”
