I’m not thinking clearly. I’m tired.
All signs that point to what I think I already know.
I grab the test that looks the easiest to read with its digital screen letting me know if the results are positive or not. I take it up to the counter, and I’m lucky it’s a teenaged girl behind it. She seems like she doesn’t much care at all that I’m buying this when it’s a huge freaking deal to me, and she barely even looks at me—surprising considering I’d be curious about every person who walked through my line, but that’s me. I’m nosy by nature, I guess.
I pay for the test—the only thing on my ticket—and I take my bag and shove it into my purse. I think briefly about doing this right here in the bathroom of the store, but I’m not seventeen and stupid. I can do this in the privacy and comfort of my own home and still find a way to dispose of the evidence without anyone catching onto my secret.
I head home, and I rush upstairs to my bathroom. I read the instructions, but I don’t have a lot of time. I scan for the basics, and then I do my thing on the stick. I cap it and stare at it as I wait for the results. A little hourglass flashes on the screen as the test works its magic, and my heart races as I stare at it.
It must be a million hours of waiting that in real time is only about three minutes.
And in those three minutes, a million thoughts run through my head.
I read somewhere once that an hourglass is a sign that life is fleeting—that pirates used them as symbols on their flags to scare their victims. I get that an hourglass symbolizes time, first and foremost, but it’s that other symbolism that strikes me now. The sands of time will run out for all of us at some point, whether it’s on our careers or a season or our entire life. It’s inevitable. The one thing we really can’t stop is time, yet it’s such a limited, precious thing.
Whatever this test says when the hourglass stops flashing, one thing is certain. I want whatever fleeting moments I have left on this Earth to be spent beside Luke.
Yet I fear for us. This injury and whatever secrets are still held in his past are two things that have the power to come between us.
I’ll do everything I possibly can not to let them.
Luke’s words come back to me. I want you to just hold out for the me you know. He’ll be back, and we’ll have our life back in a couple months, and we’ll be stronger for it.
He issued that warning before the injury. Does it still hold true? Will he be back? Or did the Luke I fell in love with change forever when Allen Hammond plowed into his knee?
That man he referred to when he said the me you know is my Prince Charming. That much I know.
The hourglass keeps flashing, and then a single word appears on the screen.
Pregnant.
CHAPTER 2
Tears roll down my cheeks. I’m not sure whether they’re happy tears or something else just yet, but whatever the case is, this baby is Luke’s without a doubt. I’m having a baby with the man I’m in love with.
Holy shit.
I feel a little dizzy at the thought of it.
I type what do I do if I’m pregnant into my search bar on my phone, and it says I should make an appointment with a doctor ASAP.
I don’t even have a doctor out here.
Michelle’s doctor was a little mean to me, but it was in the interest of her patient. Since it’s the only doctor’s office I even know about here in Vegas, I immediately call and book an appointment. They can’t get in new patients until next week, and I suppose I’ll wait to tell anybody anything until I’ve gone to that appointment and confirmed everything’s okay. Then I’ll have a due date. I’ll have more information, and I’ll be equipped to handle whatever Luke’s response might be.
I draw in a deep breath, shove the test into the bottom of my purse, and hide my purse in my closet.
I stare at myself in the mirror.
I’m the same girl I was before I left for Denver, yet everything is different. Same dark blonde hair. Same blue eyes. But now I know something about myself I didn’t before.
I hear the front door open and close. I swipe under my eyes, and then I hear my brother’s voice. “Hi honey, we’re home!”
I rush down the stairs. Josh is wheeling Luke in a wheelchair into the family room, where Michelle is already waiting on the couch with a sympathetic pucker on her face.
Josh helps Luke up from the wheelchair and onto the chaise lounge section of the couch, a place where I’ve laid with Pepper beside me a few times, by far the comfiest seat on the big sectional. I shove a few pillows under Luke’s knee to keep it elevated and one behind his back before I sit beside him and study him.
He looks different. Still handsome. Still the man I fell in love with. But different.
His eyes are haunted and ringed with dark circles like he hasn’t slept. He probably hasn’t.
“How are you feeling?” I ask. I press a kiss to his lips—a kiss that isn’t returned.
Just hold out for the me you know. He’ll be back.
“Fine,” he mutters.
“He’s in a bit of a mood,” Josh says, moving the wheelchair into a place behind the couch. His cheerful tone is a total contrast to Luke’s rather sullen attitude.
“I don’t blame him,” I say. “Besides, I know how to cheer him up.” I wiggle my eyebrows at Luke, but it doesn’t even get him to crack a tiny smile. Michelle snorts across the couch.
“You can’t just mount him with his knee like that,” she says.
“Nobody asked for your opinion,” I shoot back.
Luke sighs. “Can I just have some time alone?” he asks.
“Everybody out,” Debbie says, her voice authoritative as her gaze falls to Michelle. She doesn’t mean me...does she? “I’ve got my famous homemade chicken soup for you,” she says. She sets a tray over his lap with soup and crackers along with a tall glass of chocolate milk. All of that sounds good to me. “Let’s give Luke some space to eat in peace, and when he’s ready, he will let you all know.”
“Thanks, Deb,” he mutters. He’s doing a lot of muttering.
“I need to talk with Josh anyway,” I mumble, and I follow my brother to the front door. “Is he okay?”
Josh shakes his head. “I’ve only known him for the last year, but I’ve never seen him like this. Football is his life, and it was just taken away from him for who knows how long.”
“What can I do?” I ask, or rather, I beg.
“Give him a minute to sort out what he’s feeling, and just be there for him. But don’t take any shit from him. If you need me, I’m right across the street.”
“Anything else I can do?”
“Do you have a guest room down here?”
I nod.
“Make it into your bedroom so he doesn’t have to deal with the stairs,” he suggests.
“Oh, good idea. Okay. Can I text you if I need any help?”
“Of course.” He gives me a look of sympathy. “Luke will waver between wanting to be alone and needing you not to leave him alone. I know that won’t be easy to judge when he needs what, but I can help. I know him pretty well. We don’t want him to slip into a depression over this, but he very likely will. It’s a big hit to him, especially given that it’s the last year of his contract. Just be sympathetic and be strong, okay?”