Was she late?
She felt off.
Out of sorts.
Was that PMS?
Was that why she felt sick and her boobs hurt? Her boobs had never hurt before when she was PMSing.
A gasp took her breath away when the calendar finally synced in her brain and she realized she hadn’t had her period since before that night with Brock.Wellbefore that night with Brock. Had they used protection? They had to have, right? But she couldn’t remember. They—particularly her—had been incredibly drunk and so caught up in the moment, in the passion.
Holy crap.
Locating the pregnancy test section, she grabbed a box off the shelf and readthe back as her heart raced inside her chest and her sweaty hands slid across the shiny cardboard of the box. It fell to the floor with a thunderousthunk, or at least it was thunderous to Krista. Now the whole store probably knew what she was doing, what she was thinking. She looked around. The aisle was thankfully empty, so hastily, she grabbed two boxes of different brands, a chocolate bar and a box of tampons—wishful thinking—and headed to the checkout.
It felt as if she were wandering around with two hot bricks in each of her coat pockets as she made her way to her car, having stupidly refused a plastic bag.
Could she wait until her shift was over to take the test at home?
Twelve hours was a long time to wait.
Should she go back to the bar and find Brock so they could take the test together?
Was she being a hypochondriac, fretting about nothing?
Probably.
But a baby wasn’t nothing. A baby was a huge something. A huge something with tiny feet and tiny hands that altered your life forever.
A million thoughts ran through her mind as she drove back to the station, the paranoia setting in and feeling like a bowling ball in her belly. Meanwhile somethingelse, someoneelse could be growing in there, too.
She had to know.
Krista couldn’t go an entire shift, half a bloody day not knowing if there was a human inside her. At least then, if she knew, she would know.
Brilliant logic, Krista. You receive your invitation from Mensa yet?
Once back at the station, she locked herself in a bathroom stall in the women’s locker room.
The instructions said to pee on the stick midstream and then wait three to five minutes.
The longest goddamn three minutes of her life.
Six minutes later, she walked out of the bathroom stall, her heart beating rapidly inside her chest.
What was she going to do?
The wordscrewupwas on repeat in her head as she splashed cold water on her face and stared into the mirror. She looked sickly. Did morning sickness happen that fast?
“All I wanted to do was prove myself,” she said to the woman staring back at her. “Prove that I’m not a screwup and that I can … that Iama good cop.” Her throat grew tight from the fight to keep her emotions in check.
No. Not now. She wasn’t going to cry now. She had a job to do. A job she was good at. She’d cry later when she was alone.
A banging on the bathroom door made her jump. “Come on, Matthews. Wipe and get a move on.”
God, Myles was a disgusting pig.
She bit the inside of her cheek until the pain replaced the ache in her throat, then she threw her shoulders back and pushed open the bathroom door.
