4. Morgan
MORGAN
I dump the bag onto the counter and grab a soda from my fridge. My fingers itch for the beer, but I can’t do it until I know for sure. My phone is pressed to my ear, the sharp ringing keeping me steady as I gulp a few drinks of the cold cola.
She doesn’t answer, so I immediately hang up and dial again.
Quinn finally picks up on the fifth call.
“Morgan. I’m on a date, what’s going on?”
I glance at the clock on the stove. It’s nearly 9 p.m. which means it's ten for her because Arizona doesn’t practice daylight savings. I blow out a long breath.
“Sorry, I’m just remembering the text from earlier. I’m freaking out and I forgot. I just—”
Quinn clicks her tongue. “Gimme five. He’s as boring as a baseball game on TV.”
I snort and nod, even if she can’t see it. I can handle five minutes. While I wait for her to call back, I chug down the rest of the soda, waiting for it to hit my gut so I can force myself to piss on the cheap plastic that’s going to determine my fate.
Since I saw him on his bike, my mind has been going a million miles a minute.
Creed. Not that I’ve seen him in all his glory.
God, the name suits him. Cocky bastard. Cocky, gloriously handsome bastard with a large dick he knows how to use.
I sigh, rubbing my hands down my face. I take off my uniform, piling everything on the counter and feeling lighter by the second.
As soon as his eyes dragged over my body, pausing on my badge, I felt suffocated under the vest. Creed didn’t look at me with judgment, but I’m sure that comes from expertise at lying to cops, a practiced poker face. I know the longer I ignored him, the more he got annoyed.
“Okay. I’m here. What’s going on?”
I laugh, loud and helpless. “Remember that hot biker?”
“The one that had you limping out of the bar bathroom with a rat’s nest for hair? Uh, yeah.”
If I wasn’t so freaked out, I would laugh at her description because I’m sure I looked exactly like that. I squeeze my thighs together at the reminder. He really was that good. Fuck.
“Yup,” I tell her, resigned. “That one. His club is here. In Bluport Cliffs.”
Quinn gasps. “No! Oh my god. What are the chances?”
I groan. “With my luck? I should have expected it. Oh, and the fact I can’t remember the last time I had my period.”
My best friend is silent. “You should have had it last weekend, unless the stress of the move affected it. We’ve always been in sync, and I got my period last Saturday. Ended on Wednesday, which means…” She trails off, and I know what she’s saying. It’s Thursday. I’m nearly a week late.
I swallow, glancing over at the bag again. “I grabbed some tests on the way home.”
“Bitch. You better take one right now.”
Biting down on my lip, I grab a box and hold it in my hand. “I’m scared, Quinn.”
“I know, honey. But whatever happens, we will figure it out, okay? You’re not stuck, nothing is impossible, and life is what you make it.”
A nervous cry bubbles in my throat and I push it down. “Okay. Don’t hang up.”
“Never,” she confirms, and she doesn’t. Her silent presence is the pillar I need as I go to the bathroom. I don’t even mute the call as I pee on the stick and set it on the counter.
“It’s done?” she asks.
I nod. “Yeah, says it will take a few minutes. Maybe I should have taken two.”
“Take another tomorrow morning. So, how was it?”
I frown, confused. “How was what?”
“How was it seeing him again? Where was it? Oh my god. Tell me you didn’t arrest him.”
A laugh sputters out of me. “Almost. Warner wanted to, but I took another call before he could escalate the way he wanted.”
I could practically hear the way Quinn wrinkles her nose. “Warner is a dick. I don’t like him.”
“You’ve never met him,” I say halfheartedly, because the truth is I don’t like him much either.
My welcome into town wasn’t exactly friendly. I didn’t have many expectations, but I’d moved to be closer to my dad as he grew near retirement after his recent heart attack.
Yet the first day I walked into the station, he looked at me like a burden. The belittlement in his eyes was observable to anyone around, including my new partner. Warner hasn’t said anything about it, but I’m sure he’s curious about our relationship.
Quinn sighs. “Look, I know why you moved. I get it, but I also don’t.
Your dad has never been the warm and cozy type, so I’m not sure what you’re looking for.
At least here you had the years to make up for some of the lack of respect.
There, you’re the newbie again and I’m not there.
I worry about you, Morgan. I’m six hours away if you need a night of rocky road ice cream and Supernatural reruns. ”
I swallow down her words and the latch they have on my heart because the distance between us has never felt so real.
If anyone knows my struggles, not only physically, but mentally, it’s her. My best friend, who held me sobbing on the couch until she picked up enough pieces to glue me back together.
Turning over the test on the counter, my breath catches. One line. Oh my god.
Not Pregnant.
I’m not pregnant.
“What? Good gasp or bad gasp? Or I guess it would depend if you want—”
“I’m not pregnant.”
Quinn is silent for a few seconds, then asks gently, “And how are you feeling about it?”
“I’m not sure.” I thought I’d feel overwhelming relief, and there is some. I don’t need to get knocked up by a practical stranger, but there’s also a small sense of loss. Maybe a bit of disappointment.
Do I want to be pregnant by the biker? No, of course not.
I mean, maybe?
It certainly would force things. There would be no waiting around to see what happens, no sly glances when we see each other in town. No wondering what my colleagues would think because all that would matter is that a baby would be coming.
“Morgan?” Quinn’s voice pierces my thoughts.
“Hm? What?” I haven’t caught anything she’s said.
My best friend sighs. “I was saying it’s okay to have wanted it. Sometimes it’s not rational, you know? To want something that could blow up your whole life. Do you want me to come visit?”
My eyebrows furrow. She’s not wrong. It would have blown up my whole life. The worst possible timing, but to be honest, I’m not sure there could ever be a good time. “No, you have school and work. I’ll be okay.”
Quinn sighs again. “Sure, because you’re totally not the person who dwells on scenarios over and over. I’ll check my schedule and see when I can visit. Someone has to be the voice of reason.”
That pulls me out of my gloom with a hollow bark of a laugh. “Reason? You? Quinn, we had to have multiple tests on standby from your trysts.”
She gasps. “Who says that? Trysts. Insufferable, judgmental bitches. That’s who.”
I snort. “I learned it from you, bitch.”
Quinn sniffs loud enough for me to hear. “You good now?”
I blow out a breath. “I think I would have kept it.”
“I know, babe. You would have been a damn good mom too.”
Emotion clogs my throat and I clear it. “Thank you.”
I stand up straighter, shoving the test into the trash. “How was the date?”
She groans. “God, this is why I don’t do this shit.”
I smile, letting her fall into her usual rant about how hooking up with no expectations is easier than actually trying to form a connection with these trifling men. Her words, not mine.