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Bag in hand, Brea froze in indecision near the door. Drive the twenty minutes home to take the test? What if Daddy’s first day back at the church had proven overwhelming and he cut his day short to come home? Or what if she messed this test up and needed another one?
She couldn’t risk it. Besides, she didn’t want to wait any longer than necessary to learn the truth.
Head down, she slinked to the back of the store and found the ladies’ room. Thankfully, it was a restroom for one. She shut and locked the door, then tore into the box and scanned the instructions.
As she washed her hands, they shook. Then she sat on the toilet with the test strip.
A wave of nausea swamped her again—a combination of her nerves and the sharp scent of the antiseptic cleanser. She swallowed back another urge to vomit as she finished administering the test. Then she set the strip on her plastic bag strewn across the counter and bent to wash her hands again.
She had to wait three minutes. It would be the longest one hundred eighty seconds of her life.
But as soon as she rinsed the soap and dried her hands, she glanced at the test strip.
Less than a minute had passed, and the result window was already displaying two solid pink lines.
Pregnant.
On a gut level, Brea had expected it, but she still found herself stunned. She looked at herself in the drugstore’s grimy, water-splotched mirror. “What am I going to do?”
Her reflection had no reply.
She broke down and sobbed.
Everything in her life was about to change.
Why hadn’t she insisted on a condom? Why hadn’t he ever used one?
Maybe he just hadn’t cared. After all, he wasn’t the one pregnant now… He didn’t have to pick up the pieces or face his community or raise his child alone.
The handle jiggled, then a light tap sounded at the door. “Someone in there?”
“Just a minute,” she answered automatically, then gathered up the bag, box, and test before throwing them all in the garbage. Then she swiped away her tears, tried to plaster on a fake smile, and opened the door.
As she walked out, a woman with a baby on her shoulder and a diaper bag in hand gave her a little smile. “Thanks.”
Then the door closed. Brea was alone, with the rest of her life stretching out, endless and terrifying, in front of her.
What was she going to do?
She slid her hand over her still-flat belly and exhaled. Apparently, she was going to have a baby.
But without hurting her father, jeopardizing her career, and tearing apart her community, how? And how would Pierce feel about this?
Mechanically, Brea eased into her car and headed back to Sunset. Traffic was light. She didn’t remember the drive.
When she reached home, she parked and ran into the house. She tore off her clothes and slid back into her pajamas. The house was so quiet. She felt utterly alone—shocked and scared. Eventually, she’d have to get up and face her problems like an adult, and she knew her tears were pointless. But right now she needed to shed them, just like she needed reassurance that somehow, someway, everything would be all right.
She needed Cutter.
He was in Dallas, working. Normally, she would never call while he was on the job. But he would hear and understand her like no one else.
Brea grabbed her phone from the purse she’d discarded at the foot of her bed and dialed her best friend. Before he even answered, more tears sprang to her eyes.
“Hey, Bre-bee.”
“C-Cutter, hi. I hate to call you…but I could use an ear.”
“What’s wrong?”
“This is probably a bad time, and I’m sorry. Really. But I don’t know where else to turn.”
“Slow down. It’s okay. Tell me what’s going on.”
“I woke up this morning and I felt horrible. I didn’t know what was wrong and then I… Ugh. I’m talking too much. But I’m afraid to just blurt everything. You’re going to be mad. Everyone will be shocked. Daddy will be disappointed. I just”—her breaths came so quick and shallow that she feared hyperventilating—“don’t know how to say this but…I think I’m pregnant.”
“What?” he growled. “Have you seen a doctor?”
“No. I bought a test at a drugstore in Lafayette and took it in their bathroom. I’m still in shock. B-but I’m shaking and I can’t stop crying. I don’t know what to do.”
“Make an appointment today. Find out for sure. If you’re right, this isn’t going to go away.”
“I can’t see Dr. Rawson. The first thing he’ll do is tell my dad. I know he’s not supposed to but…” She shook her head and tried to think of solutions instead of continuing to dump problems on him. “What about that clinic near your apartment?”
“Fine. Call there. But you need to see a doctor before you make any decisions. I’ll go with you if you want. I’m home in a week. I promise not to confront Walker until then. But if you’re right—”
