Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Finally, once my phone tells me it’s been exactly three minutes, I stare at that little wand on the sink like it’s going to explode. All I’m doing is confirming what I already know. Why does it feel so monumental?
And why does my heart drop like a rock when the words Not Pregnant greet me once I turn the test over?
Not pregnant. I am not pregnant. How could I have gotten it so wrong?
Why am I crumbling when I ought to be relieved? This is probably the worst possible time to have a baby, for so many reasons. Yet here I am, biting my lip to hold back a sob.
Aspen knocks softly on the door. “Hey. Okay in there? Do you need anything?”
I can think of a lot of things I need. At the top of the list is a shoulder to cry on. I ease the door open, staring at the floor. “I’m not pregnant,” I whisper, and just saying the words makes my throat clog up with tears.
“Oh, sweetie.” She gathers me against her for another hug, tight and fierce. “I’m so sorry. But, hey, everything happens for a reason. Right? I know that sounds corny, but it’s true.”
I know she’s right. I should be glad, really. We don’t need another complication on top of everything else.
But, dammit, I was starting to get used to the idea of having a baby. Mine and Ren’s. A part of both of us. The best part, the part that came from love. Now, I have nothing but broken dreams I shouldn’t have entertained in the first place. How could I have gotten so far ahead of myself?
“Why am I late then?” I rinse my face at the sink while Aspen waits. If I go out there looking like I just finished crying, somebody at home is going to find out. I don’t feel like dealing with a million questions.
“Who knows? These things happen. You’ve been through so much stress,” she points out. In the mirror, I see the way she frowns in sympathy. “Stress can really screw with your cycle, you know? And you were definitely going through plenty of stress. It could be as simple as that.”
Of course. My body was busy trying to get through all of the trauma I was experiencing. It’s no surprise I skipped a period.
If only that wasn’t the case.
If only I hadn’t already started loving a baby that never existed.
If only it didn’t feel so damn much like I’m losing everything that matters as we walk back to the car and ride home in silence.
17
REN
“Wake up,” a deep familiar voice drags me from my restless sleep.
My eyes fly open just in time for me to see a bundle of clothes thrown at my face. I manage to lift my arm just in time, catching the pile of fabric. Still disoriented by sleep, I look around my cell to find Quinton standing inside, only two feet away from my cot.
“Get up and get dressed. You are going to the gym with me,” he orders, his tone not leaving any room for a discussion.
I sit up and stare at the pile of clothes in my hand, realizing I’m holding a pair of workout shorts and a thin T-shirt.
“Why are you sleeping in the middle of the day, anyway? Nothing better to do than nap? Oh, wait, you don’t,” he says sarcastically, glancing around the bare cell with a grin. “Hurry up, I don’t have all day.”
“Do you really think that’s a good idea? Does your father know you are letting me out of here?”
“Don’t you worry about him. Besides, you really think you can take me?”
“I know I can take you,” I challenge.
“Give it a try and find out, asshole.”
A grin tugs on my lips. Fuck, I missed this prick. I know he will never truly forgive me, but Q has been my best friend for most of my life. It’s hard not to miss him. Which makes turning him down even harder.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave my cell.”
Quinton rolls his dark eyes at me. “Scarlet and Aspen aren’t here. They went shopping, and my dad ordered extra security to follow us around. So get off your lazy ass and put the fucking workout clothes on, or I’ll drag you to the gym like this.” He points at my jeans, long sleeve shirt, and bare feet.
Only when I look down do I realize he has also brought some sneakers for me.
“Fine,” I agree, before quickly getting changed into the stuff he brought.
“Finally.” Quinton sighs dramatically as if he has been waiting for hours. “Come on.” He opens the ajar door wide and waves me through. “After you.”
My first step out of the cell is hesitant and has my stomach in knots. How many days has it been? It feels like weeks. I don’t love being locked up in a single room without a window, but I don’t hate it as much as I should either.