“It’ll heal,” I mutter around a mouthful of food. We chatted about the rodeo last night and how after an hour or so of the rain and lightning, they cancelled it all together. After our fries are gone and plates have been cleared, I give Matty a tight hug, promising to call before I go on any other impromptu rides alone. I push my way into the restroom and lean against the countertop, the mirror catching my reflection. I study myself for a moment. My eyes look clearer, my skin glows with what I’m now going to call the Dean effect. Was I ever happy before Dean? I laugh out loud at the thought that not too long ago when we first stood across from each other collecting our checks, I couldn’t get away from him fast enough. Now my whole body begs me to cling to him and never let go.
Leaning closer to the mirror, I inspect my forehead. The gash could have probably used a few stitches, but I did my best to clean it in Dean’s trailer last night; and after the night in the rain and cold, the bleeding had stopped. It’s still tender to the touch, but it’ll heal, so I pull my hair to the side a bit so it’s covered. Then I bend down and peek beneath the stalls, making sure I’m alone before tugging the collar of my t-shirt to the side to check my chest. I almost passed out last night when I stepped into the hot shower and the water running down the drain was tinted red. Pressing a hand to my chest, I can still feel the warmth of his blood as he pressed into my cuts, branding him to me and I to him. In retrospect it seems feral and untamed, but that’s just like Dean, finding a way to step over that line and make something like that so meaningful.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, breaking me from my spell.
Hi, darlin’, hope your meeting with Matty went well. Just stopping for gas. Let me know when you’re on your way.
I can’t help but roll my eyes as I type out my response.
You mean you aren’t tracking my every move?
Dots pop up instantly, and a moment later his text comes through
I’ll give you something better to do with that mouth if you decide to keep sassing me, woman.
My blood heats.
I like to keep you on your toes ??
You’re a cruel woman, Hannah Harlow.
Only for you, Daddy.
Fuck me.
The door cracks open behind me, causing me to jump and tug my shirt back in place. Through the mirror, I make eye contact with a woman, a bouncy baby in her arms. She gives me a quick smile before closing the pair of them in the large stall at the end with a changing table. I listen to them for a moment. The baby giggles loudly and it makes a piece of my heart settle. As if he lives in my mind, I hear Dean’s voice clearly like he’s whispering right in my ear,it’s only a matter of time before I put a baby in you.My fingers fly across my phone screen, tapping on myhealth app to see the prompt:Did you forget to log your period?I can feel the blood drain from my face, my skin breaking out in a cold sweat. My phone clatters against the counter, gripping the edge with both hands to hold myself steady.
“There’s no way,” I mutter to myself. I swipe through the app to the calendar, going back to last month and the month before. “I’m never late.” Tears start to well in my eyes, but before I can have a complete melt down, the door swings open and a couple teenage girls walk behind me. They give me an odd look, looking at each other and whispering before they disappear into the stalls. I try my best to wipe my face and contain my shock as I leave the restaurant. The short walk to my truck feels like I’m walking through sand, and by the time I close the door and toss my head back against the headrest, my hands are shaking.
I close my eyes and go through every possible scenario in my mind.
I really am late, the stress of my parents' anniversary messing with my cycle.
I haven’t been eating or sleeping exceptionally well while on the road, so maybe I’ve skipped a month.
Then my mind turns to rationalizing it out.It’s only a matter of time before I put a baby in you.Dean's promise reverberates clearly in my mind. Would it be the worst thing to be pregnant with his baby? I did admit that I love him, and I meant it. My hand instinctively settles on my stomach, images of Dean with a little version of him and I making fresh tears spill down my face. God, he’d make such an amazing father. Sure, he’s an asshole, but not to me. And with everything I’ve read about his father and how happy he looked in that picture with his brother and parents, I can’t imagine he’d deny his own child of that love and freedom that he grew up surrounded by.
My truck roars to life and I make my way down familiar roads. The same trees that I drove under as a child fly past menow as I turn down a single lane street. The houses sit spaced a decent distance apart from each other. Just far enough that you felt private, but not far enough that you felt alone. The summer sun makes everything look so bright and full of life. Kids squeal from a front yard, running through one of those old school sprinklers that wave back and forth. Like muscle memory, I pull up in front of an apricot colored brick home. On the front porch sit two white rocking chairs, the banister covered in hanging baskets overflowing in colorful flowers. Through the driveway I can just catch a glimpse of the barn, a man with a cowboy hat on leads a young filly around a small enclosure. A little girl with brown pigtails sits on top, her smile visible even from here. A wet laugh fills the cab of my truck as the man tries to reach out for her to hop down, but she shakes her head in defiance. Instead of tugging her off, the man simply shrugs, pats her leg with a big smile, and begins to walk them around the loop again.
Slowly, I pull away from my childhood home, a piece of my heart ripping the wound open, but this time it doesn’t scab over or build a wall around itself. Instead, it stitches closed neatly and ready to heal properly for the first time. Then I make the familiar drive a block away to the gas station on the corner. The place I used to walk with my friends to get ice cream and coke flavored slushies. Except today I plan to make a more adult purchase.
The pregnancy test burns a hole in the bag sitting in my passenger seat. Stopping half way to Denver, I haul my bags into my hotel room. Before I have time to rest, I head back out to the trailer and unload Queen. This morning, I made sure to take time and wipe her clean from our night in the rain and mud. After a few laps around the hotel, I walk her back into the trailer, lay out some fresh hay, and pour her grain in the rubber bowl beside her water bucket. I can’t decide between sprinting to my room or never opening the door, knowing the moment I walk in will change everything. Finally, after pacing up anddown the hallway, I pull the keycard from my pocket, watch the light turn green, and step inside, latching the door behind me. I lean back against it, grateful for something solid to hold me up right. Nodding my head a few times, I decide that it’s best just to get it over with. I read and reread the instructions, not wanting to mess this up. Then I sit on the toilet, pee over the end of the stick, cap it, and set it on the counter while I wash my hands.
“Three minutes.” I sigh, setting a timer on my watch just as my phone vibrates from the bedroom. Casting one quick glance at the test, I walk over to my phone.
Hey, darlin’, just got to my hotel. I see you’ve made it to yours as well.
This time I smile instead of roll my eyes.
I wish I had it in me to call, but I’m beat. I hope you had a good drive. I’ll see you tomorrow.
I let out a relieved sigh that he texted instead of called, knowing he’d see through my false tone of calm the moment I picked up. My watch buzzes, and my heart stops. I don’t move for a few minutes, reality crashing down around me. The phone shakes in my hand and it takes a few tries for me to get it on the nightstand before stumbling into the bathroom. I put my fingers over my eyes like I do in a scary movie, somehow making me feel more removed from the tiny words on the window of the pregnancy test. Squinting, I bend over, trying to make out the letters, but the word doesn’t quite compute.
Pregnant.
I fall back onto the lid of the toilet and hold the small white test in my hand. A shocked laugh breaks free and I’m bouncing between hysterical sobs and actual sobs. After my parents died, I told myself I’d never have a family of my own. Made myselfbelieve that if I did I took the risk of losing them. But now that I’m literally face to face with the wordpregnant,I can’t deny that I’m not the least bit disappointed. I’m shocked, of course, but coming to terms with the kind of love that Dean and I share has shattered every false promise I made myself in hopes that my heart would never get broken again.
“Well, I guess he’s really Daddy Dean, now isn’t he?” I laugh softly, my hands gently holding my stomach.
