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Backing out, I leave the door cracked slightly and turn, nearly colliding with Orin. His hands come up to my elbows to steady me, and I flinch at his quick movement.
“You okay?” He asks, his brows drawing in with concern.
“Yes,” I whisper, my eyes downcast. My response is automatic, due to years of conditioning. I’m healing slowly on the mental aspect, but I still have my moments of relapsing back into old survival habits.
A single index finger, tips my chin up and I watch as his grey eyes search my face, “Liar.”
That one whispered word stabs me deeper than any blow I’ve been dealt. The fact that we only just met, and he can see me clearly, crushes me while slipping some of the shattered pieces of me back where they belong. It’s an odd sensation. One I’m not entirely comfortable with, but I know I should be.
He holds my eyes, and I feel raw and exposed, so I wrap my arm around myself in an attempt to hide the dark parts from him. Not knowing if I succeeded, he steps around me on bare feet and pads to the kitchen. With my bladder ready to burst, I continue on to the bathroom and try to get my mask back in place, though it doesn’t feel right to do so.
Taking a few minutes to brush my hair and teeth, I get a long look at myself in the mirror. Used to the bruising, I reach for my make-up to cover it, but then remember that there’s no one that’s going to be angry if I don’t cover up the flaws. Deciding that this is a good first step in taking back my power, I tuck my make-up bag back under the sink. When I come out of the bathroom I collide with Jonas. Every time I turn around there’s a man. And not my husband, thankfully.
“Sorry,” he yawns with one hand pressed to my hip, and then leans down to kiss the absolute shit out of me. Then he limps by me, effectively moving me out into the hall and closing the door, leaving me wanting more. I’ve noticed his limp bothers him more first thing in the mornings and after a long day when he’s been on his feet. I’m not able to work up the courage to ask him about it, I don’t want to overstep if it’s something traumatic. I stand there, wondering what just happened, blinking stupidly at the door until Zander’s voice sounds with an excited squeal from the kitchen.
Going to investigate, I find him at the counter with Orin on the opposite side, flipping pancakes in a pan on the stove. With each flip, Zander lets out a peel of laughter, and my heart lifts at seeing my boy so happy over something so simple. I lock eyes with Orin, and he gives me a wink before turning and slipping the flapjack onto a waiting plate with others that are already done.
How long was I in the bathroom?I ponder as I make my way over to my son and kiss his dark hair.
“Morning, baby,” I say, as I breathe in his scent. It always calms me. Plus, he has the best shampoo.
“Hi, mama!” He shouts with a giggle.
“Morning, Orin,” I say, not wanting to be rude.
“Mornin’,” he returns with a twinkle in his eye.
“Where’s Gem?” I ask. It’s odd that I haven’t seen him.
“He got called out early this morning,” Orin says, glancing at Zander before his grey eyes land back on me. The look says everything I need to know to not ask more questions in front of my son.
“Yeah! Orin said he had to help get a cat out of a tree!” Zander says with more enthusiasm than that situation warrants.
“Oh, sounds like it’s right up his alley,” I say, smiling at my son's exuberance.
Orin sets two plates full of hot cakes down, one for each of us. Then goes back for a third, and stands on the opposing side, digging into his plate full of food.
I grab the syrup and drizzle some over my son's pancakes, and then give myself some, but not nearly as much as I poured out for him.
That’s when my stomach cramps something fierce, and I drop my fork on my plate with a clatter, grabbing my stomach.
Orin’s sharp eyes cut to me, and he comes around the counter, stopping in front of me, where he asks, “What’s wrong, pumpkin?”
I don’t want to worry Zander so I say, “I think I might have gas pains. Excuse me,” I make my excuse and rush down the hall to the bathroom.
Thankfully the door is unlocked, and Jonas is done inside. I close the door behind me and another cramp hits me hard.
“Fuck,” I whisper, moving to the toilet and pulling my pajama pants down before I sit on the open seat. Unwinding some toilet paper, I use it to wipe myself and when I come back with nothing I’m puzzled. The cramps are very period-like. I calculate in my head that I’m actually two days late when I’ve never been a day late in my life, except for when I got pregnant with Zander.
“Fuck,” I whisper for an entirely different reason now.
A knock on the door jolts me out of the frozen state this new realization paralyzed me in. I call out, “Just a minute!” I stand up and pull my pants up when Jonas opens the door that I forgot to lock. He takes one look at me and asks, “What’s wrong? Orin said you looked like you were in pain, and then ran in here.”
He steps fully into the bathroom, closing the door behind himself.
“I’m late,” I say in shock.I can’t be pregnant. This can’t be happening. I’m not in any sort of position to raise another child alone.I run through the last time Steven forced himself on me and close my eyes when I realize that the timing is right for this to be a possibility.
“I thought your appointment with the lawyer wasn’t until ten?” Jonas asks, misunderstanding me.
