Seconds crawl by.
Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight.
When the timer chimes, I flinch so hard my phone nearly hits the floor. My stomach hollows and I press a hand to it, as if that’ll be enough to hold myself steady.
And then I look.
Two pink lines stare back at me, impossible to deny.
Air rushes from my lungs as the world tilts again. When my knees threaten to buckle, I grab the edge of the counter to steady myself.
“No, no, no…” The thin, broken sound tumbles out as the test trembles in my hand.
I’m pregnant.
The truth roars through me until it’s impossible to think about anything else.
I’m pregnant with Oliver “Big O” Van Doren’s child.
I sink to the floor and my back hits the cool cabinet, my legs refusing to hold me up any longer.
I should’ve known better.
Tears sting my eyes, but they don’t fall. I press both palms to my face, pulling in air until the panic loosens its grip.
A memory surfaces of my mom standing in the doorway the night Dad left, her voice steady while her hands shook.
This is why you take care of yourself, Rina. Because no one else will do it for you.
Maybe she was right.
Maybe that’s what this is.
The universe reminding me to never let anyone close enough to break me.
Except… I already have.
I glance at the test again, the lines bright and bold under the harsh lights.
And the worst part?
Somewhere deep inside, buried under the icy panic clawing at my chest, there’s a whisper that refuses to be silenced. A fragile truth I don’t want to acknowledge.
A piece of me will always belong to him. And vice versa. We will forever be entangled.
I sit on the cold tile long after the timer stops chiming, the test still clutched in my hand.
When my phone buzzes again, I glance at it.
Oliver’s name glows on the screen like a ghost I want to hide from. Instead of responding, I flip it over, silencing the vibration, and press a palm against my stomach.
I just need a little bit of time.
To think.
To figure out how to tell the man who can ruin me with a single look that everything in our lives is about to change.
24
