“But I—” My voice cracks. “Z and I, we haven’t even— Not since that one night I can’t even remember, and that was two months ago?—”
Fuck.
Two months ago.
The blackout night back in Waco. Three nights after the day everything went to hell.
The night I don’t remember.
Followed by the morning I woke up naked next to Z in bed, with him looking so happy, like everything was finally right in the world.
Ximena’s watching me with way too much understanding in her eyes. “Harper.”
“Fine. Turn around.” I yank my pants down and sit on the toilet, hands shaking so badly I almost drop the test. “But this is stupid. I’m not pregnant. I have an IUD. This is just—it’s just stress or food poisoning or?—”
I squeeze my eyes shut, do what I need to do with the test, then set it on the edge of the sink.
“How long does it take?” I’m washing my hands, not looking at it.
“Three minutes.” Ximena’s leaning against the door, arms crossed. “But sometimes they show up faster.”
“Well, I’m not looking until?—”
“Harper.”
Something in her voice makes me look up. She’s staring at the test on the sink, her face gone pale.
“What?” my voice comes out sharp. Scared. “What is it?”
“You should look.”
“Ximena, just tell me?—”
“Look at the fucking test, Harper.”
I grab it with shaking hands, holding it up to the dim bathroom light.
Two lines.
Clear as day.
Positive.
“No.” The word comes out strangled, and I’m still shaking my head. I can’t be. “No, that’s—that’s wrong. Those things give false positives all the time, right?Right?”
But even as I’m saying it, I’m thinking about the nausea. The exhaustion. The way coffee—my favorite thing in the universe—has made me want to vomit for the past week.
The way my period… when was my last period? I’ve been so busy working doubles, crashing into bed exhausted every night, and trying not to think about Caleb or the life I left behind. When was?—
Two months.
Oh fuck.
“I’m going to be sick again.”
I turn back to the toilet just in time, retching up what little water I managed to drink outside. Ximena’s there, holding my hair back like we’re best friends instead of just housemates who happen to work together.
“It’s okay,” she murmurs. “It’s okay. We’ll figure this out.”