Chapter 42 Blake
BLAKE
THE TILES ON THE FLOOR feel like ice beneath my bare feet. I’m sitting on the edge of the tub, staring at the plastic stick in my hands.
Two pink lines.
Not one, two.
I repeat: two.
I blink. Then blink again. And again. Waiting for the image to blur or fade or do something that will prove I’m hallucinating this.
But the lines remain, taunting me.
Two of them. Did I mention that?
I honestly didn’t think it would be positive.
I felt silly when I asked my mom to take me to the pharmacy this morning.
I was embarrassed to tell her I was late, but part of me was convinced there was another reason for it.
Otherwise, I might not have even recruited Mom for the errand.
I might have kept it to myself. I don’t regret telling her, because right now, I don’t think I can process this alone. My entire body has gone numb.
I barely register the knock on the door. “Honey, it’s Mom.” She sounds calm, but I can hear the twinge of worry. “Are you okay in there?”
Okay? I almost laugh. No, I’m not okay. My life has just turned upside down. I can’t make my vocal cords work. So, knees wobbling, I stand up, open the door, and hand her the test without a word.
She looks at it, closes her eyes briefly. Then she sighs and pulls me to her arms for a tight hug. “Oh, my girl,” she murmurs, running her hand over my hair like I’m a kid again.
Tears spill over before I can stop them. “You can’t tell Dad,” I blurt out. “Please. Promise me you won’t tell him.”
“Blake—”
“No, not yet.” My voice breaks. “Please.”
After a beat, she nods. “I won’t tell him.”
“You promise?” I know they don’t keep secrets from each other. But her face is the picture of reassurance.
“I promise, not until you’re ready. This is your choice. No one else’s.”
“Oh my God.” My breathing becomes shallow. “What… I can’t… I’m not…”
I can’t even finish a sentence. All I know is that I’m not ready for this. It’s too big. And saying it out loud would make this real in a way that I can’t take back.
She brushes my tears away with her thumbs. “You don’t have to decide anything today. You can take your time, and whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”
“What about Dad?”
“He’ll support you too, or I’ll divorce him.”
I laugh weakly. To be fair, I’m not sure she’s even joking.
A question tickles my throat, bringing a queasy sensation to my stomach. “Do you think I should get rid of it?”
There’s a long pause.
“I think that might be easier,” she finally says. “But easier isn’t always right. Only you can know what’s right.”
“But I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to know right this second. We’ll figure it out.”
“What about Wyatt? I have to tell him.”
“Yes, you do. But again, it doesn’t have to be right now, okay?”
“He’s not going to want a baby,” I mumble, and my body starts shaking again. “You know him. He can’t be tied down. He can’t even stay in one place for too long. He’ll hate me if I keep it.”
“Aw, honey, you don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.” I let out another laugh. There’s nothing funny about this, yet it’s all I seem capable of doing.
Laughing at the absurdity of it. “He’ll feel like I trapped him, and then he’ll run, or even worse, he’ll try to do the right thing when he really doesn’t want to.
” The tears start falling again. “I wouldn’t be able to stand that. ”
“Blake,” she says firmly. “You’re spiraling.
Take a breath. Take a step back. You don’t need to tell him until you’re ready.
” She cups my face, forcing me to look at her.
“You don’t need all the answers. You’re scared, and that’s okay.
But you are not alone in this. Whatever you decide—to keep it, not to keep it, talk to Wyatt, don’t talk to Wyatt—I will stand with you always. ”
I bury my face against her shoulder and let myself cry harder than I have in years. Or maybe ever. This isn’t only about a pregnancy. It’s about Wyatt and me and everything I feel for him. Everything I fear for us.
What if I tell him and he looks at me like I ruined his life?
What if I want to keep it and he doesn’t?
What if he wants to keep it and I don’t? That one’s unlikely, but it could happen. Anything could happen.
The fear gnaws at my insides like a scavenger until my stomach feels like it’s torn to shreds. Mom holds me and lets me cry, stroking my hair in a slow, soothing gesture.
“We’ll figure it out,” she says as I sob in her arms. “I promise.”