Chapter 30 Ivy
CHAPTER THIRTY
Ivy
I wake up feeling like I’ve been dragged through a storm.
The kind of storm that leaves you drenched, shivering, and completely wiped out. My body aches with every movement, and my head is pounding as if someone’s drumming on the inside of my skull. The dizziness is still there, lurking at the edges, the aftermath of spinning too fast in circles.
I roll over in bed, hoping for a few more minutes of sleep, but the moment my feet hit the floor, everything tilts. I grab onto the nightstand to steady myself, squeezing my eyes shut to try and fight off the nausea that surges.
Pickle, ever the perceptive little furball, comes over and nuzzles my leg with a soft whine, his big brown eyes staring up at me with that concerned look of his.
“You’re sweet, Pick,” I murmur, patting him gently on the head. But I can’t help feeling a little bit irritated by how off everything feels.
I shuffle to the kitchen, hoping to make myself some coffee and shake off this funk. Maybe I’m just burnt out from the past few days, the tattoo convention, the awkward tension with everyone, and the weirdness at the end…
I’m halfway to the bathroom when the smell of something sizzling in the skillet hits me. It’s Jesse, he must be awake already, making breakfast. Normally, I’d be excited about his cooking. He’s a pro in the kitchen, and his eggs are legendary.
But today?
The second the scent of bacon wafts through the air, my stomach does a full flip, and I have no choice but to stumble to the sink.
The dry heaves come first, my body trying to expel whatever’s not sitting right, but it’s not just the bacon. It’s everything.
I race into the bathroom and grip the edge of the sink, trying to steady myself, but it’s no use. My stomach turns in a way that makes me feel as if I’m about to lose everything inside me.
"Okay, this is... this is not just burnout," I mutter to myself, trying to breathe through it. The dry heaving finally subsides, but now there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Pickle’s still hovering by my feet, his head tilting in concern.
“What is wrong with me?” I ask him, as if he could possibly answer.
But as I lean back against the wall, it hits me, something I’ve been trying to ignore. This isn’t just exhaustion or stress.
I haven’t had my period in a while, and that sinking feeling in my gut starts to grow, as if it’s pushing a thought forward that I’m desperately trying to avoid.
No.
No way.
I stand up straighter, trying to clear my head, but the dizziness only gets worse. My hands are shaking now, the thought running through my mind over and over again.
Oh no, am I…?
My breath catches in my throat as I push away from the wall, stumbling forward without even thinking. The words feel foreign in my mouth. They don’t belong to me. But they’re there now, taking over my thoughts.
What else could it be?
I stagger into the kitchen, my stomach still in knots, trying to keep it together. Jesse’s at the stove, flipping eggs. He doesn’t even look up when I walk in, but I know he feels me the second I step into the room.
There’s no way I’m eating anything. Not when my stomach is in knots, and I can barely keep my thoughts straight.
“Morning,” I say, my voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.
“Hey, you okay?” Jesse’s voice is gentle, but his eyes… his eyes are sharp. He sees right through my act, even if I try to hide it behind a mask. “You don’t look so hot.”
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, maybe too quickly. I force a smile, hoping it’s convincing. "Just tired. I think I might skip breakfast."
His brow furrows as he turns down the heat on the skillet. “You sure? I made your favorite. Scrambled eggs with salsa and avocado on the side. It’ll help.”
I try to nod, but my stomach clenches just at the thought of food.
"I'm good," I say, shaking my head. "I’m just, uh... I need to go run an errand."
Jesse gives me that look, the one he always does when he’s trying to decide if he should pry or not. I can feel his concern swirling in the air between us, but I don’t have the energy to explain.
"What’s going on?" he asks, his voice low but steady. "Are you sure you're okay?"
I can’t tell him. Not this. Not yet. I open my mouth, then close it, running a hand through my messy hair.
There’s a split-second hesitation, then the lie slips out. “I just need some... tampons.”
I try to say it casually, but it feels wrong on my tongue. He doesn’t seem convinced, but he lets it slide.
“Alright, you want to borrow the car?”
I nod gratefully. Thank goodness the mention of menstruation doesn’t leave room for questions. “Yeah, if you don’t need it?”
“I’m not working until this afternoon. I assume you’ll be back by then?”
“Sure will.”
I make my way out of the house, my footsteps feeling heavier with each step. The cool air greets me like a slap to the face as I step outside, but it’s not enough to shake the fog in my brain.
I slide into Jesse’s car, feeling like a complete stranger in the driver’s seat. The smell of his cologne still lingers in the upholstery, and it makes my chest tighten. I pull out of the driveway a little too fast, my hands gripping the wheel harder than necessary.
As I drive, I can’t seem to push the thoughts away. They’re too loud, too real. The dizziness comes and goes, making my vision blur for a second before it sharpens again. The road stretches ahead, and I tell myself it’s just exhaustion. It’s just too many late nights, too much stress.
But as I drive further from town, it gets harder to deny the gnawing, growing fear in my gut. I turn the music up, trying to drown out the storm of thoughts, but it doesn’t help. The steady hum of the engine is almost a countdown to whatever comes next.
Eventually, I hit the highway, and that’s when the tears start. Quiet at first, like they’re just waiting to escape. A small leak, a trickle down my cheek.
I wipe it away quickly, focusing on the road ahead, but it’s no use. They come faster now, hot and quick, they’re breaking out of me whether I want them to or not.
I want to turn around. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to keep lying to my brother…
But he’d kill me if he knew.
The world blurs again as I reach the next town over. The streets are unfamiliar, and for a second, I feel like I’m someone else. Someone who isn’t caught up in all this.
I pull into the gas station parking lot, the fluorescent lights harsh above me. For a moment, I sit in the car, staring at the entrance as if I’m about to walk into a different life.
I take a deep breath, but it does nothing to calm my racing heart.
This is it. I’m doing this.
When I step out, the morning air hits me with a sting, but it’s welcome. I make my way to the pharmacy aisle, my footsteps echoing in the quiet store. No one knows me here, and that feels both comforting and terrifying all at once.
I grab the pregnancy test, my hands shaking so badly I almost drop it. I don’t even look at the price. I just throw it in the basket along with a bag of Doritos, some tampons, and a Red Bull. I tell myself it’s for plausible deniability, but deep down, I know it’s just a distraction.
The cashier barely looks up as she scans the items. Her bored expression doesn’t help the gnawing panic in my chest.
I just want to escape from all of it. But I can’t. I need to know.
And so, I drive back, clutching the bag in my lap as if it’s the only thing that matters. I don’t know if I’m more afraid of what I’ll find or of what I won’t.
When I pull back into the driveway, I’m a little more composed, but the tension in my chest is tighter than ever.
I stare at the house for a moment, the flickering lights of the cabin casting a soft glow in the morning mist There’s an eerie sense of finality in the air, like I’ve crossed some invisible line and can’t go back now.
Pickle is waiting for me at the door, his little paws skittering on the wood as I step inside. He gives a soft whine and looks up at me, and I almost feel guilty for not having told him what was happening, like he’d understand better than anyone.
“Hey, buddy,” I murmur, patting him absently as I try to shove my thoughts back into the recesses of my mind.
Jesse’s sitting on the couch, flicking through his phone. The second I walk in, he looks up, giving me the same, pointed stare from earlier.
"Did you find what you needed?"
I smile a little too brightly. “Yeah, I’m good. I might just… get some rest now.”
Jesse arches a brow, still watching me with that too-knowing look. “Well, let me know if you need anything, okay?”
"Yeah, thanks," I say quickly, avoiding his eyes as I make my way to the bathroom.
The bathroom door clicks shut behind me, and I take a deep breath.
The box with the three tests feels heavier in my hand than it should. I place them on the counter and stare at them for a long, drawn-out moment. My reflection in the mirror is a stranger to me. Pale, exhausted, and holding the weight of something I’m not ready to face.
I sit down on the edge of the bathtub, trying to steady my hands. They’re shaking so badly it’s hard to even open the plastic wrappers.
I force myself to breathe slowly, to steady my hands, but my pulse is pounding so loudly I can barely hear myself think.
It seems there is only one thing to do.
It isn’t hard. But as do it, my pulse thunders.
I pee on the stick and wait.
The seconds drag on, stretching into infinity. The silence is thick, pressing in from every side, and the only sound I can hear is the quiet drip of the faucet.
I stare at the test, willing it to do anything but give me the answer I’m afraid of. My hands are clammy, slick with sweat, but I grab it anyway, slowly, carefully. I turn it over.
The two pink lines are so stark, so real that I almost drop the damn thing.
Two pink lines.
It hits me with a punch to the gut, and for a split second, I can’t even breathe. My chest tightens and my whole body locks up like I’ve just been slapped. I try to tell myself it’s a mistake. That it’s a fluke. Maybe the test is broken. But I already know.
My heart sinks, and it’s as if the ground beneath me is suddenly gone. My vision blurs.
I grab the second test with shaking hands, the plastic wrapper crinkling as I tear it open.
I don’t even need to look. I know what I’m going to see.
I piss on the stick and wait again, though I’m suffocating under the pressure of this thing that’s been growing in me without my permission.
The second test.
I pick it up, and the two pink lines are glaring back at me, like they’ve been there all along.
Two pink lines. Again.
I nearly laugh. It’s an ugly, breathless laugh, the kind that cracks with disbelief and disbelief alone. My whole body is trembling now, and I can’t stop it. I don’t even know how to process this. It’s happening too fast. It’s too much.
I can’t keep up.
My head spins. My thoughts are a tangled mess. I’m falling into some kind of void, a place I don’t know how to get out of. The walls feel too close. The air feels too thick.
I grab the third test, my fingers slick with sweat. There’s no choice now. I need to know.
The third test. The same. Two pink lines.
It’s real. It’s all real.
I stare at the three tests in front of me, the pink lines dancing in my vision, and I want to scream. I want to smash something, anything, just to break the crushing weight of this reality.
I think about my options.
Adoption. Abortion. Keep it.
There’s a moment where they all collide in my mind, flashing with neon signs in a dark room. But nothing stands out, nothing feels right.
Adoption could be an answer. It could be the right thing to do. But then the thought of carrying a child, living with it, feeling it grow inside me, and just… giving it up? The idea feels alien, a life I could never imagine.
Abortion. Maybe that’s the logical choice. But I don’t even know if I could go through with it. The weight of that decision, of what it might mean, crushes me in a way I can’t put into words. I think about the possibility, and the room seems to tilt again.
Or keeping it. Raising a baby on my own. Could I even do that? Could I even bring a child into this world when I can barely make sense of my own life? I barely know where I’m heading, and a kid… A kid would change everything. I would change everything. But is that enough? Am I enough?
But would I have to do it alone?
I mean, this isn’t just about me, is it?
I also need to consider Freddie, Mitchell, and Timothy.
I’ve slept with all of them. One and once, and all together too. I’ve let myself be tangled up in each of their worlds, not knowing what the hell I was doing or where it would lead.
Freddie, who’s so full of charm and humor, but underneath it all, so fragile, carrying a whole history I haven’t even scratched the surface of.
He’s Penny’s dad, and that changes everything.
But does it change this? This baby, this future?
Do I want to add the stress of another baby to his already muddled life?
Even if he’d be there for me, what will he think about having another child?
Mitchell, who's always been steady and in control, but seemingly a commitmentphobe. I don’t think he’ll like this at all.
And Timothy… I know he likes me. I know he wants me. But this?
Urgh, I don’t know.
I picture it in my head: keeping it, or maybe... not. But either way, I’m alone. The weight of it presses down on my chest until I can barely breathe.
Pickle’s soft whines through the door break through the fog in my mind. I don’t even have the energy to get up, to let him in. I just sit there, still as stone, the tests clutched in my hands.
The little guy pawing at the door is a tiny echo of everything I’m too terrified to say out loud.
I don’t cry. Not yet. I don’t even know if I can.
I sit there, my body so still it’s as if I’m not even in it anymore. The world around me feels muffled. Every thought is scattered. But I can’t move.
I look at the tests again, the two pink lines burning into my brain.