Whatever the result is, I can handle it.
Two minutes.
What if it's positive?
What then?
We're in the middle of a crisis.
There's a woman out there who wants to kill me—or worse—as revenge against my father.
RJ is here to protect me from threats, not to start a family.
He's a soldier.
A Brotherhood operative.
His life is assignments and danger and moving from one crisis to the next.
This isn't the plan.
This isn't anyone's plan.
One minute.
But if it is positive... that's his baby. Our baby. Something we made together in the middle of all this chaos. Something good. Something that exists because we found each other, because we couldn't stay away from each other, because whatever this thing between us is, it's real and powerful and alive.
Thirty seconds.
I think about RJ at family dinner, watching my parents and Tor with something like wonder in his eyes.
The way he said he'd never had that—a family that gathered and laughed and loved each other.
The way he looked at me afterward, like I'd given him something precious just by letting him be there.
He wants a family.
I saw it in his face that night.
He wants what he never had.
Time's up.
My hands are trembling as I reach for the test.
I close my eyes, send up a prayer to whoever might be listening, and flip it over.
Two pink lines.
Positive.
I stare at it for a long moment, waiting for the panic to hit.
Waiting for the fear, the regret, the oh-god-what-have-I-done.
Instead, I feel my hand drift to my stomach.
Still flat. Still unchanged.
