Garrett drives me to the clinic in Morgantown, his hand on my thigh the whole way.
I'm nervous—terrified, actually—but it's a different kind of terror than I'm used to.
This is the fear of hope.
The fear of wanting something so badly that losing it would destroy you.
The confrontations with Venus and Leah are still fresh in my mind.
But today isn't about them.
Today is about the baby.
About the tiny life growing inside me, the one thing that's kept me fighting through all of it.
The waiting room is full of pregnant women in various stages of showing.
Some of them have partners with them; others are alone.
I watch them and wonder what their stories are.
Whether any of them are like me—recovering addicts, trying to build something good out of the wreckage of their lives.
Whether any of them understand what it's like to be terrified that your past will poison your future.
"Hey." Garrett squeezes my hand. "Stop thinking so hard."
"How do you always know?"
"Because you get this little crease right here." He touches the spot between my eyebrows. "And your leg starts bouncing."
I look down.
Sure enough, my knee is going a mile a minute.
"I'm scared," I admit. "What if something's wrong? What if all those years of using..."
"Then we deal with it. Together." He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. "But let's not borrow trouble. Let's just see what the doctor says."
"Vanna Mercer?"
We follow the nurse back to an exam room.
I change into a gown, lie on the table, and try to remember how to breathe.
The paper crinkles beneath me as I shift, and the fluorescent lights hum overhead.
Everything feels too bright, too clinical, too real.
"First ultrasound?" the tech asks, smiling at me.
"First real one. They did one at the rehab facility, but it was early. Just to confirm."
"Well, let's see how baby's doing."
She squirts gel on my stomach—cold, making me flinch—and presses the wand against my skin.
For a moment, there's nothing but gray static on the screen.
