This is bad. This is worse than bad.
Not telling Ronan from the start—that was the mistake. I should have trusted him. Should have known that he would have worked with me to keep Annie safe. Instead, I tried to handle it alone, and now everything is falling apart. I should have convinced her that going to him was the right thing to do. Done the smart thing instead of what I wanted, which was to make her happy with me. Keep her trust, her love, her desire—everything I’ve craved.
Now, everything I've worked for, everything I've built, is falling apart. My brotherhood with Ronan is shattered. My relationship with Annie is over. And Desmond is still out there, still a threat, still plotting.
I've failed at everything.
The only question now is whether Ronan will give me a chance to fix it—or whether this warehouse is the last place I'll ever see.
26
ANNIE
The test sits on the bathroom counter, face down, while I count to sixty, my hands shaking.
They’ve been shaking since I pulled the box out of the bag that Diane brought me. She'd been discreet about it, tucking it into a grocery bag with other supplies so that the other guards wouldn’t notice. But I'd seen the concern in her eyes when I'd asked her to pick it up.
I’m glad I didn’t have to ask one of the men, at least.
Sixty.
I reach for the test with trembling fingers and flip it over.
Diane got me two of the expensive ones. The ones that saypregnantin the window instead of making you decipher lines while you’re undergoing one of the most insane moments of your life. And I’m both so fucking grateful that she did, and ready to throw up again when I see the single word in the tiny window.
Clear as day. Unmistakable.
I'm pregnant.
The test slips from my fingers and clatters into the sink. I grip the edge of the counter, my knees suddenly weak, my breathcoming in short gasps. I feel briefly dizzy, as if I’m going to pass out.
I'm pregnant.
With Elio's baby.
The man I’ve loved since I was sixteen. The man I ran to when I didn’t know where else to go. The man I married.
The man who left and told me that there’s no way for us to be together that doesn’t end in blood and ruin for us both.
A sob catches in my throat, and I press my hand to my mouth to hold it back. This can't be happening. He came inside me once. Just once.
I guess that Catholic school health class wasn’t lying when they said once was all it takes.
A hysterical, sobbing laugh bursts from my lips as I press my hand to my mouth, thinking back to when my last period was. I’m barely pregnant. Less than two weeks. Early. So early that if I wanted to?—
No.
The thought crystallizes immediately, instinctively. I press my hand to my still-flat stomach, and despite everything—despite the fear and uncertainty and heartbreak—something fierce and protective surges through me.
This is my baby. Mine and Elio's.
And I'm keeping it.
But what does that mean? It’s not going to fix any of the problems that Elio and I have gone over until they’re beaten to death. It doesn’t change what he said when he left. He said we have to end this, get a divorce, go back to our separate lives. He said there's no future for us.
How do I tell him he's going to be a father?
How do I tell Ronan he's going to be an uncle—by the man he considers a brother, the man who's been lying to him for days?
