Tears filled my eyes as I nodded.
“Okay, come with me.”
She pulled me up off the floor and walked to her room. In the closet, behind a stack of shoe boxes, Devlyn pulled out a bag.
“I keep these hidden because Gator will freak out if he thinks I’m pregnant again.”
I didn’t say a word; I couldn’t. My voice was blocked from the giant lump that had lodged itself in my throat. I couldn’t be pregnant. The odds were so small.
But the odds of losing another child were higher.
I couldn’t lose another baby. I wouldn’t survive it again. I barely survived the first time.
“How late are you?”
“Almost a week.”
Devlyn looked at me, her eyes shining, and I knew what she was thinking. I shook my head. “I can’t, Dev. I won’t survive again.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“You don’t know that,” I cried. “I’m high risk now. The chances of it happening again are higher than the first time.”
“Let’s not worry until we know if there is something to worry about.”
Devlyn pulled me into the bathroom and handed me the test. I stared at the stick in my hand.
I’d been here before.
Last time I was naïve. I’d known what the test would say, just like I knew now would it what say. Last time Jude stood here with me, waiting to see how our lives would change.
We were so stupid. He asked me to marry him, and I did. We thought everything would work out for the better. Only, I’d lost everything.
“I’m scared.”
“I know. I was too. And I know I didn’t go through what you did, but I’m here for you. Just like you were for me.”
I took a deep breath and nodded.
I peed on the stick, and Devlyn put her arm around my shoulders as we stared at it, watching the ink as it passed through the window. Watching as the two pink lines appeared.
I was pregnant.
Again.
Chapter Twenty-One
Morgan
I sat on the closed lid of the toilet and stared at nothing. I didn’t see the floor, or my hands, or even Devlyn’s legs in front of me. All I saw was the day I lost my son.
The beeping of the monitors echoed in my head. I could smell the antiseptic in the hospital room. Feel my brother’s arms around me as the doctor told me my son was gone.
“There was nothing we could do, Mrs. Peterson.”
“The pregnancy wasn’t viable.”
“There is no way to predict...”
