I needed to pull myself together and get over this shit. Maybe a dose of Zofran would work. I rested my head on my knees, trying to focus on my breathing. That’s when I heard the door open again, small footsteps carefully approaching me.
“Hey there, darling girl, you okay?” Jennie’s melodic, and yet sarcastic voice rang.
I peered up. “What do you think?”
She crouched down at my level, and pulled something from behind her back. “I think you need to pee in this cup.” Her palm revealed a sample cup waved in my face.
“I’m not on drugs. Jesus, I know I have been off lately, but I’m not doing anything.” I got defensive. My stomach tightened again as a wave of nausea started to bubble up.
Jennie laughed. “No, dumbass. I don’t think you’ve been doing any recreational drugs or something. But you have been doingsomeone,” she teased.
It took me a minute to realize what she was saying. I laughed dryly, “You’re off your rocker. I’m on birth control.”
I was still using my patches. Right?
“Have you?” she asked, waving the cup again.
All color drained my face. I patted to my lower abdomen, the typical place where I used it. My fingers skimmed under my scrub top. My fingers ghosted over my skin, my bare skin.No edges or smooth surface of the patch that I swear I was religiously doing.
“Now she’s connecting the dots,” Jennie teased again.
I shook my head. It was all talk right. It was one thing that Shooter always wanted to fill me, talks of one day watching my belly grow with a child.
“That bastard.” I hissed out.
“Oh no, you don’t,” she snapped. “When was the last time you picked them up or asked for a refill order?”
Oh fucking hell. No, it couldn’t be happening. I was so damn sure.
“When was your last period, Mia?” she asked.
Like a dam bursting, tears flowed down my cheeks. I couldn’t remember. I had been so diligent, preventing the fear of doing it again, of repeating history and have my heart broken all over again. Would I be strong enough?
“Come on, baby girl, I’m going to need you to buck up and do this if not for me, for your future.” Jennie rested her hand on my shoulder. I slowly nodded. The wave of emotions spilled over me, a million thoughts spiraled, all the “what ifs”.
I knew it took two to make a bundle of joy, I thought all those days and nights spent with Shooter were playing a fantasy. Time ticked by and my mind imagined a little one that was a perfect blend of both of us, Shooter smiling every day, loving on both of us. That was what I had dreamed of from the start.
“I’ll make those dreams come true one day,”he had said. Instinctively, my hand grazed over my stomach. I guess playing Russian roulette with my birth control and Shooter’s endless need to fuck me or love me on every surface he could was about to turn our life upside down.
I remember the last time, being so excited for this, only to be shattered through hopelessness and pleading that it wasn’t true. I wasn’t ready to go through that again, I couldn’t. Though evenin the darkest times, hope survived after all that time. It would live on through love and a new beginning.
Jennie held my hand, waiting with me, screaming at anyone that tried to come through the restroom. The timer had beeped, and suddenly my heart raced.
She looked at me. “You ready?”
“Not really, but I can’t wait forever, right?” Tears started to well up.
She walked me over to the counter where the test laid, waiting to be read.
I wasn’t mad at Shooter or myself. Fate had a different pathway for us, a timeline that may be pushed. I gripped Jennie’s hand tight enough that I thought I was cutting off her circulation.
When we peered over the counter, the answer was in front of us.
Pregnant.
I was pregnant.
Tears dripped down my cheeks. A rush of happiness knowing that it was Shooter and my child growing inside of me. It was a gateway to a new start, a lead into our future.
