13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Tasha
Driving through town, Gemma’s gaze keeps flicking over to me, her eyes glinting with curiosity.
“So…you look a little pale. What’s going on, Tasha?” she asks, her tone light but with that sharp edge of concern that tells me she’s noticed more than I’d like her to.
She’s perceptive, maybe a little too perceptive for me to dodge her questions forever.
“Oh, I’m all right,” I say, trying to sound casual, though my laugh comes out strained. “Just one of those days where you wake up feeling off. Not really sure why.”
The trees are ablaze in fiery reds, deep golds, and rich oranges, their colors spilling across the road as if a painter had taken a brush to the entire landscape. I turn my gaze out the window, hoping the sight of the autumn leaves will calm the tangled mess of nerves in my chest.
The beauty of it is overwhelming, like a living postcard, but even the peaceful scenery can’t loosen the knot of anxiety inside me.
The golden sunlight filters through the canopy, casting warm, dappled patterns across the road, the light shifting and dancing. I try to focus on those patterns, to let them soothe me, but my mind is elsewhere, racing over everything.
The possibility of being pregnant, of carrying Brody’s baby, the nerves and fear of it all, sit in my chest like a strange, bittersweet weight, tugging at feelings I can’t even name.
Then there’s Gemma, sitting just a few feet away, unknowingly bringing me closer to the tests that could confirm everything I’ve been fearing and hoping for all at once.
The whole situation feels surreal, heavy with irony and tangled emotions. A pang of guilt sharpens inside me, and I shift uncomfortably, trying not to fidget as Gemma hums along to the radio, lost in the music and seemingly oblivious to the storm inside me.
Still, every now and then, she glances over with a little smile, a quick look of reassurance, and I force myself to smile back, hoping it hides everything I’m feeling.
Please, Gemma, just keep the questions to yourself.
Finally, we pull up to the drugstore, and the building looks like something out of an old movie. It’s the kind of place where everyone knows each other, where shoppers exchange friendly nods and shopkeepers chat with regulars.
Small, tidy flower boxes filled with marigolds and mums sit beneath the windows, while a red and white striped awning shades the entrance.
The small-town charm feels simultaneously comforting and suffocating, as though every set of eyes inside already knows why I’m here.
We step inside as the faint scent of lavender and floor polish fills the air, mixed with the soft hum of conversation from a few patrons scattered about.
Gemma glances down one aisle and grins, gesturing toward the beauty section. “I’ll be over here for a bit,” she says with a wink, making a beeline for the shelves lined with lipsticks and mascara.
I nod, grateful for the space, and offer a quick smile in return, my mind already racing as I turn and head toward the back of the store.
Each step toward the women’s health section feels like it takes a small eternity, my footsteps echoing in the quiet.
When I reach the aisle, I stop, staring at the shelves before me, taking in the entire display of pregnancy tests, rows upon rows of boxes in shades of pink and blue, some boasting accuracy down to the hour, others promising “early results”.
My heart races as I scan the options, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer number of choices. I realize with a jolt that I have no idea which one to choose. I’ve never been in this position before.
Back when I was with my ex, we were always careful—meticulously careful.
This moment had never crossed my mind.
But with Brody...it’s like everything was different from the start.
There was a trust, a closeness. Something that made me let my guard down, maybe even recklessly.
It wasn’t just attraction—it was a sense of safety, of wanting to let go of every wall I’d ever put up.
Maybe, in some deep, unspoken way, I let caution slip away.
As I take a shaky breath in, I grab the first box my hand lands on, clutching it tightly.
My fingers curl around the edges, as though holding it will somehow ground me, even as my mind continues to spin.
In this moment, I wish more than anything that I could fade into the shelves, disappear until this is all over.
I keep my head down as I make my way to the front, avoiding eye contact with anyone who might give me a knowing look. The floor tiles pass in a blur, and my grip tightens around the boxes in my hands, as if holding onto them will somehow anchor me in this moment.
Walking toward the counter, I feel every muscle in my body tighten. I am praying for a quick escape. If I can just get to the register, pay, and tuck the bag discreetly under my arm, maybe I can get through this unnoticed.
My heart hammers so hard in my chest that I feel it in my throat, and my hands grip the pregnancy test boxes so tightly that the edges dig into my palms.
I steal a quick glance over my shoulder, half-expecting to see Gemma coming around the corner, and brace myself for what I might say if she does.
It’s just a precaution. It doesn’t mean anything yet. Right?
Not looking where I’m going, I round the corner to the counter and nearly collide with her.
I stop short, and the world slows down as I see Gemma’s eyes widen, looking from me to the boxes in my hands.
The boxes nearly slip from my fingers, and my heart races so fast I can barely breathe.
My breath catches, and for a split second, I feel like I might drop everything, like I might crumble on the spot.
“Oh, uh…” I stammer, my cheeks burning as though I’ve been caught red-handed. “I didn’t see you there.”
Gemma’s gaze immediately flicks down to the items in my hands and lingers for a split second, her eyes widening in surprise before snapping back up to meet mine.
Her expression is unreadable, caught somewhere between curiosity and shock, and my mind races for something to explain why I’m standing here with pregnancy tests clutched in my hands.
Gemma raises an eyebrow, but her expression stays cooly neutral, though I can tell questions are dancing behind her blue eyes.
I swallow hard, trying to keep my cool as I sidestep her, my movements clumsy, and hurry toward the cashier before she can say anything.
My stomach feels like it’s in knots as I place the tests on the counter, watching the cashier ring me up without even looking at me. I practically throw my card at him, mumbling a hasty “thanks” as I take the small bag and tuck it under my arm, hoping it’s enough to hide what’s inside.
As I turn back, I can feel Gemma’s topaz gaze burning into me, the weight of her unspoken questions heavy in the air between us.
She doesn’t comment, nor does she question me, and for that, I’m grateful.
But, instead, the silence that stretches as we walk back to the car feels louder than any words. I fight to keep my expression calm under her silent scrutiny, though my mind is spinning.
Once we’re both back in her car, Gemma wastes no time. She doesn’t even start the engine, just turns to me, her gaze piercing, her voice as blunt as a hammer. “So, if you’re pregnant…is it Brody’s?”
Her directness hits me like a slap, and I feel all the air leave my lungs. I open my mouth, searching for words, but nothing comes out right away. “Yeah…it would have to be.”
My voice sounds small, almost like it belongs to someone else, and I feel the weight of what I’ve just admitted to settling over me, thick and suffocating.
For a moment, Gemma says nothing. The silence fills every corner of the car, stretching out heavy and tense.
I can feel my face flush, shame and worry flooding me.
Finally, unable to take it anymore, I blurt out, “I know what you must be thinking. You probably think I’m just after his money or something…that I’m trying to trap him, but it’s not like that. I swear.”
My voice trembles softly, and I feel the tears I’ve been holding back start to prick at the corners of my eyes. I look down quickly, twisting my fingers together in my lap, too ashamed to meet her gaze.
I want to tell her that I never planned this, that I never wanted to end up in a situation that would make people question my intentions, but the words stick in my throat, tangled up with everything else I can’t quite say.
Gemma sighs, her gaze softening. “Tasha…” she says quietly, reaching for my hand, but her tone is kind, not accusing.
My shoulders shake as the sobs come, silent but fierce, years of worry and doubt and fear bubbling to the surface, all spilling out in front of the last person I want to see me fall apart.
The gentleness in her voice undoes me, and before I can stop it, the tears spill over. I turn away, staring out the window as I try to gather myself, but the weight of everything is just too much.
I can’t bear to look at her, can’t stand the thought of seeing pity in her eyes. She must think I’m just another silly, naive girl who’s let herself get in way over her head—and maybe she’s right. I feel like a fool, like every worst fear I’ve ever had is coming true.
I think of my mother who was a teen mom, and I cringe. I wanted so much not to do this. I wanted to get my life together, have a career, travel, get married—all before I had kids. And yet, here I am, the same kind of screw-up as my whole family had always been.
The thoughts echo in my mind, cruel and taunting, and I bite down on my lip to keep the sobs from spilling over, though I’m losing that battle fast.
What will Brody think? What will everyone think?
Just when I think I can’t handle another moment, Gemma reaches over and squeezes my hand. Her touch is firm, grounding, and when she speaks, her voice is soft, laced with unexpected kindness.
“Look, Tasha,” she says, her words cutting through my turmoil. “Whatever happens, it’s going to be okay. I mean it.”
Compassion. I turn to her, startled, and for the first time, I see something in her eyes that I hadn’t expected. She doesn’t look at me with judgment or disappointment, only concern, and something in me eases just a little.
I’m caught off guard by her support. “You really think so?”
“Absolutely,” she says firmly. It’s a relief to know she’s not looking at me like some kind of gold digger, just someone in over her head and trying to keep it together. “But…let’s keep this between us for now, okay? Until you’re ready and know what you want to do.”
I nod, feeling a bit of the tension ease from my shoulders.
The leaves outside flash by, each a blur of orange and crimson, but they barely register as I lose myself in anxious thoughts.
The trip back to Brody’s ranch is long and silent, Gemma focused on the road while my mind spirals with what-ifs.
What will I do if the test is positive?
How do I even tell Brody something like this?
A nauseous feeling lingers in the pit of my stomach, far worse now than when I first woke up.
I press my hand against my stomach, as though that will somehow calm the sick, twisting feeling gnawing at me.
The reality is settling in hard and fast.
Everything I’ve worked for, all my dreams, everything I thought I knew about my future…everything could change entirely because of the results on a stupid plastic stick—because of a stupid mistake.
Stepping inside Brody’s house feels surreal, the familiar warmth of the space almost mocking the storm brewing inside me. I slip my shoes off and take light, careful steps across the polished wooden floor, not wanting to alert Dana or Brody if he’s come back home.
My heart thuds in my chest, a drumbeat of panic. I know if either of them sees me now, they’ll ask questions, and I don’t have any answers yet.
I finally make it to my bedroom, closing the door gently behind me before letting out a shaky breath. The weight of it all crashes over me, and I let myself sink onto the bed, burying my face in my hands as a few sobs escape. But I can’t fall apart now. I need to know.
I get up, grabbing the bag with the tests, and make my way to the bathroom. Everything feels surreal as I unwrap the first test, my fingers fumbling with the plastic.
I follow the instructions, feeling awkward and vulnerable as I do, wondering how it’s come to this moment of suspense with my entire life on the line.
Setting the first test down, I stare at it with wide, unblinking eyes, watching as the seconds stretch into an eternity.
Then, like a punch to the gut, the result appears: pregnant.
A heavy weight drops in my chest, but I take another test, needing confirmation.
It’s positive as well.
Each time I try again, the answer doesn’t change, as all five tests line up with the same finality: I’m actually pregnant.
I get myself together, pulling my hoodie back on before cracking open the door. Gemma startles me, standing right there at the threshold, her expression soft and searching. She steps inside, closing the door quietly behind her without a word.
“I swore I’d never end up like this. I’m making the same mistakes my mom made, Gemma. I’ll be a failure…just like her.”
The moment we’re alone, the floodgates open, and I’m sobbing, barely able to get the words out.
Gemma moves closer, her hand rubbing gentle circles on my back as I choke on the memories of my mom.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I whisper. “My mom never…she never cared. I was just there, you know? Another thing she had to take care of when she felt like it.”
The weight of it all presses down on me: the years of neglect, the missed birthdays, the feeling that I was just genuinely unwanted.
“What if I can’t be a good mom?” I ask, my voice barely audible. “What if I don’t know how to be there for a kid? No one was ever there for me.”
She hugs me, her arms strong and grounding. “Tasha,” Gemma murmurs, “you’re not your mom. You care enough to worry about this, which already makes you different. But you have to believe that you’re different. You have to believe that you can be better, do better.”
Despite her words, the fear still lingers, dark and heavy.
What if I’m just destined to repeat the cycle?
Pulling back slightly, she looks me straight in the eyes. “You have to tell Brody,” she says softly, her voice firm. “He’ll be there for you, Tasha. I know he will. This isn’t something you have to face alone.”
Shaking my head, the thoughts are far overwhelming. “Please, Gemma, don’t say anything yet. I…I need time to think,” I plead. The idea of bringing this news to Brody fills me with dread.
What if he just sees me as…irresponsible, another mistake?
“He hired me to help organize his life, not mess it up.”
A pang of guilt ripples through me as Gemma studies me, her expression a mix of compassion and worry. “Tasha, he cares about you. This isn’t some passing fling for him.”
But the fear is lodged too deep.
“I’ve only ever been good at screwing things up, Gemma. Everyone in my family just makes the same mistakes over and over. It’s like we can’t escape.”
I can’t keep the bitterness from my voice, the anger at how small and trapped I feel.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” I add, my hands shaking. “I was finally going somewhere…finally doing something different. And now?”
Gemma sighs heavily, her hand resting on my arm. “I get that this is terrifying, but you have a choice. You have Brody, and you have me, too. You’re not alone here.”
Despite her reassurance, the doubt remains.
Am I capable of being better?
Or am I just going to end up living the very life I was trying so hard to leave behind?