“But I’m on birth control. I have the implant.” I move my arm a bit to show him the small lift in my skin.
“Funny thing about implants is they only work a few years before they expire.”
“Expire?” My eyes are as wide as saucers. I had no idea they expired. Did I? I don’t know.
“From what we can figure out, it would have expired right around the time your dad—I mean Law, ah….”
When Dad died, but didn’t die. I was too lost in my grief to do much then. If my doctor had called to set up a replacement, I would have missed it. Shit.
I look at Kooper, who’s still staring at General. Maybe he didn’t hear him. Maybe he’s doing the math, like I am, and trying to figure this out.
What math, girl? You’ve been withoneguy.
“Wait.” Dread trickles into my mind. “Could it be…?” I close my eyes and shake out the shudder. I feel Kooper squeeze my hand, but I can’t look at him when I say this. I just can’t. “Do you know how long? Like, when it happened. I didn’t sleep much, but… but… something could have happened. Something when I didn’t think it did.”
God, to be pregnant by one of them, one of my captors. Just the thought has me hyperventilating.
“Breathe, Ruby. I need you to breathe,” General says.
I blink and, I swear, he’s by my side in a second, holding my shoulder and trying to calm me down. It’s not working.
“I’m going to be sick,” I say a second before I lean over and throw up the water I drank earlier. Thank God General is quick, because I would have hit his shoes if he hadn’t grabbed a kidney-shaped bowl for me to upchuck into.
I keep gagging, but there isn’t anything in my stomach. Eventually, I roll back over onto my back, exhausted from that small effort. A cool cloth touches my forehead and cheeks before Kooper wipes my mouth and then tosses it away.
“We did an initial check when you were out. There were no signs of rape. However, we can still do a paternity test, though we won’t be able to do so for a few more weeks. You’re still in the early stages of the first trimester. We’ll keepyou on fluids and getyou some actual food. I’ll have one of our OB/GYN doctors come by, and you can go over things with them. They can give you a better idea of what to expect now that you’re… well, expecting.”
General smiles, but I don’t.
Finding out I’m pregnant wasn’t the plan.
But they ran blood work on me. Checked and double-checked. They’re sure, they say.
And when General found out, he told me first. Well, me and Kooper.
Kooper. A minute ago, things were different. It was just him and me. Starting something. The possibilities were different. They were endless. Now? Shit, it looks like we started something weeks ago, and now we have to pay for it. Literally. Babies are expensive.
Oh God, what about school? Where am I going to live? I have no home. Dad doesn’t know me. I’ve got nothing. I’m not going to raise this kid in the clubhouse, and Nat’s and my place is too small. If we’re even still going to be living together. If I trust her enough to be around my kid.
Double shit.
“Right, well, I’m going to get a nurse in here to start you on some prenatal vitamins and set up a menu for lunch to start getting you where you need to be for that healthy little one inside.” General turns to leave with a pep in his step that I don’t seem to have in my heart.
“General.” He turns, and I watch his smile fade as he takes in my expression. Which I’m sure is full of panic. I glance at Kooper, who’s watching me but saying nothing. Just listening.
I look back at General. “Is it too late? Too late to… you know?” I tilt my head back and forth and gesture to my stomach.
He doesn’t frown. He doesn’t get angry. He just looks on with respect. “No, sweetie. It’s not too late to terminate if that’s what you want. If you’re thinking that because you don’t know whose it is, I suggest you wait till we get a paternity test done first. We can get that done and then make that call. But the decision is yours. And I, and the club, will stand by your choice.”
Tears fall down my cheeks as I nod. My voice is gone, floating away in fear of everything.
His smile is sad, but his eyes are those of someone who cares about my well-being and not the world’s opinion on what I should do.
Then he leaves. And the quietness in the room is deafening.
“We’ll get through this, Peaches.”
Kooper’s words draw my eye. I didn’t want to look at him when I asked. I didn’t want to see what would be on his face. But I should have known that he would have held his feelings, his thoughts to himself. It’s what he does. He keeps a part of himself hidden from me, but only so I can shine a little bit more.
