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Three days later
I open my front door and lean against the wall, touching a finger to my chapped lips before taking a sip from the morning brew I get every day from the local coffee place downtown. Damn. I thought it was almost spring, but it still feels like winter most days.
I smile, looking around my new room, or better yet, my new place, at my parents’ house. Almost all the boxes are unpacked. I made the decision after Jesse took me back to Ray’s place. In order for me to heal, I need to be with the people that love me. I haven’t told Jesse yet what I did, it’s going to be a surprise when he gets back. When I broke the news to my brother, Angie, and my parents when I had dinner at their place, they were happy I’m starting a new adventure here.
I haven’t heard from Jesse after he arrived in Anchorage. He said he was going to a place in Alaska with barely any cell reception, but shit, I miss him. The secret thrill I get when I think about him makes me shiver. “Damn you, Jesse Winchester, for messing with my heart and mind,” I whisper.
I head into the large bedroom I’ve set up as my studio and office. There is a huge balcony wrapping around the second floor, where I sit most nights to enjoy the amazing view of the city and the mountains in the distance. I turn on some music and BTS echoes through the speakers.
I hop down the stairs to grab some new finds, which Becky sent over from California, still in boxes in my garage. I open the door; Ronnie’s Harley and my dad’s truck take up the better part of the space.
After inventory is done, I’m rummaging through some stuff I piled high in the corner of my room to put on the website. I grab Jesse’s shirt and comfy pants I stole when we made love the last time. After stripping, I change into his pants, rolling the legs up at my ankles.
I stare at myself in the mirror, wearing only my bra and his pants. “Fuck, Jesse,” I murmur, “you better come home to me.” I twirl in front of the mirror, and lift my shirt… shit, I gained weight. I gasp, thinking about the last night we spent together. I run to my bag in the corner of the living room. I grab my phone and search through my agenda.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I swear. When was the last time I had my period? Damn, there are a couple of red dots, but that was months ago. I’ve always been irregular, and with the implant, I sometimes wouldn’t get my period at all.
I open Google and type in my symptoms. I’m tired, easily irritated, and have sore breasts, but don’t we all. I grab the edge of the kitchen counter.
“Fuck.” The night I spent with him before the X Games flashes through my mind. “I can’t be pregnant, can I?” I whisper.
I turn in front of the mirror. Sure, I’m a little fuller, but most days, it looks like I’ve got a bad case of a food baby—not an actual baby.I stare at the clock, the pharmacy will close right about now. I can drive for an hour to go to the twenty-four-hour pharmacy or roll out of bed in the morning and seal my fate. How could I be this stupid?
The next morning, I’m in the truck before dawn and heading straight for the local Walgreens. They’re just opening, and I run inside to grab four tests, and sprint back to my truck and drive home. The whole way, I have the radio on full blast, singing along to Black Sabbath to ease my mind.
When I get home, I dash inside and go straight into the bathroom, tearing at the packages. I settle myself on the toilet and start to pee on the two sticks.
“Fuck my life,” I mutter. I take the sticks and lay them on the bathroom counter. Waiting for the little lines to appear, I slide down and hug my knees to my stomach. I reach for the sticks and close my eyes, and my fingers make contact with the plastic, but I’m too afraid to look.
Slowly, I open my eyes and stare at the lines. “Fuck, calamity fuck,” I groan, brushing my hair behind my ears. I can’t be pregnant. I mean, I am pregnant. What will Jesse think? And what about the implant in my arm? What kind of bullshit is that?
I grab my phone and dial the local doctor’s office. The secretary picks up after the second ring.
“Doctor Clarence’s office, this is Patricia speaking,” a sweet voice says.
“Hi, Patricia, this is Lemmy Kurton. I wanted to ask if I could come in today.” My voice trembles a little.
“Sure, hon, there is another doctor on call right now, if that isn’t a problem. Doctor Daniel can see you in an hour. What is it about?” she asks, her voice kind.
“I might be pregnant, and have an implant in my arm,” I tell her, stumbling over my words.
She pauses for a couple of seconds, and I briefly close my eyes, getting up from the floor.
“Yes, we can fit you right in,” she says, way too cheerfully.
It takes me an hour to get to the doctor’s office with the heavy traffic. Patricia shows me the room where I will hear my verdict. Damn, my palms are sweating. I brush them on my jeans and walk around the room. The office looks cozy with warm colors. Every self-help book known to mankind fills the better part of the bookcase on the left. The big mahogany desk is covered with stacks of paper and books. There are even a couple of pictures hanging on the wall from the good old doctor snowboarding. Somehow, he looks familiar. I take a step closer, staring at another picture of him with two young boys of about sixteen and twelve. Fuck… those gray eyes. I grab the picture and almost drop it when the doctor walks in.
“So, dear,” he says, closing the door, staring at the chart in his hands. “I see here you think you might be pregnant.” He stops talking, and his eyes go wide with shock. “Lemmy, I mean, Ace. I didn’t read the chart yet,” Jesse’s fathers says apologetically.
My cheeks flush and my mouth dries. Doctor Daniel? Who goes by his first name?
“You want to take a seat, kid?” he asks, motioning to the chair opposite his desk. “Here, let me get you a water.”
He hands me a glass, and I take a large gulp. “Thank you,” I say, my voice small.
“Does Jesse know you’re here? I mean, I wouldn’t presume that…” he says, his cheeks turning red.
“He doesn’t know, Mr. Winchester,” I confess, staring at the picture on his desk of him and his sons.
