Chapter 19 Nolan
The bus shelter outside the hospital smells like exhaust fumes. I sit on the metal bench with my phone in my hands, staring at the screen without really seeing it.
I need to tell Ellie about the baby.
The thought has been circling my brain for three days now, ever since I saw Erik at the Bureau and nearly threw up in front of both him and Sun.
He looked gorgeous. More than gorgeous. I don’t know how I can desperately want someone and hate them at the exact same time. It’s killing me.
I haven’t heard from either of them, but Erik clearly knows I am unwell. It won’t be too long before he puts two and two together and realizes that I am pregnant.
This is all going to come out into the open soon and this time, Ellie isn’t going to hear it from someone else.
I’ve been avoiding the conversation. My sister is the only family I have left.
She’s the only person in the world who knows all my secrets, all my failures, all the ways I’ve bent and nearly broken over the years.
If she looks at me differently after this—if she’s disappointed, or worse, pitying—I don’t know how I’ll survive it.
But I can’t keep hiding. The pregnancy is going to become obvious eventually, and Ellie deserves to hear it from me.
I take a breath and walk back into the hospital.
Ellie’s room is bright with afternoon sun when I arrive.
She’s sitting up in bed, laptop balanced on her knees, and she looks so much better than she did three months ago that it makes my chest ache.
The treatment is working. Her color is good, her energy levels are up, and Dr. Burke has started talking about discharge timelines.
I have everything I wanted and everything I sold myself for.
“Hey.” She looks up when I enter, and her smile fades almost immediately. “You look like someone died. What’s wrong?”
I close the door behind me. My hands are shaking, so I shove them in my pockets.
“I need to tell you something.”
Her laptop closes with a soft click. She sets it aside, giving me her full attention, and I can see her bracing herself. “Okay. What is it?”
I’ve rehearsed this a dozen times in my head. I had a whole speech prepared, careful and measured, designed to present the information in the least alarming way possible. But standing here now, looking at my sister’s worried face, all of it evaporates.
“I’m pregnant.”
The words hang in the air between us. Ellie blinks once, twice, processing.
“Pregnant,” she repeats slowly. “As in—Erik’s baby?”
“Yes.”
“And he knows?”
“No.” My voice comes out rough. “And he’s not going to. I’m not—I’m keeping this secret, Ellie. He can’t find out. The terms of our agreement said that he would have custody of any offspring. I know I was stupid to sign that but I never thought there would be any.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. I watch her work through it, see the questions forming and reforming behind her eyes.
“Okay,” she says finally. “Come sit down. Tell me everything.”
So I do.
I tell her about the cohabitation, about the heat, about the way things shifted between us before everything fell apart.
I tell her about the eviction notice and Mrs. Kay’s room and the pregnancy test in the hospital bathroom.
I tell her about the Bureau meeting, about almost throwing up in front of Erik and the way he looked at me like I was a stranger.
By the time I finish, my throat is raw and my hands won’t stop trembling.
Ellie reaches out and takes my hand. Her grip is stronger than it used to be—another sign of recovery, another reminder that at least something in this disaster has gone right.
“You can’t stay here,” she says quietly.
“What?”
“In the city. You can’t stay.” She squeezes my fingers. “Nolan, think about it. The coffee shop—Hazel knows about Erik, right? She’s the one who told me about the marriage when I came looking for you that day. If she knows, other people know. It’s going to get out eventually, and when it does—”
“Shit.” I hadn’t thought about that. I’ve been so focused on avoiding Erik directly that I forgot about all the indirect ways information travels. Hazel isn’t a gossip, but she’s not exactly discreet either. If she mentioned my marriage to Ellie, she’s probably mentioned it to others.
“You need to disappear,” Ellie continues. “Go somewhere he won’t think to look. Somewhere you can start fresh, have the baby, figure out what comes next.”
“I can’t just leave you.”
“I’m fine.” She says it firmly, the way she used to say it when we were kids and she was trying to convince me she could handle something too big for her.
“The treatment is working. Dr. Burke says I could be discharged within the month. The hardest part is over, Nolan. You don’t need to keep sacrificing yourself for me. ”
“It’s not a sacrifice—”
“Bullshit.” Her voice is gentle but unwavering. She stops, swallows. “You’ve done enough. More than enough. Let me be the one who worries about you for once.”
My eyes are burning. I blink hard, refusing to let the tears fall.
“What are you going to do about money?” I ask. “The treatment—”
“Is already paid for. The contract you signed guarantees coverage and by the time I’m out of the hospital, then I’ll be well enough to work. I can figure it out from there.” She fixes me with a look that’s pure stubborn determination. “You need to think about yourself now. You and the baby.”
The baby. God. Every time I remember there’s an actual human being growing inside me, it feels like the ground shifts beneath my feet.
“I don’t even know where I’d go,” I admit.
Ellie reaches for her laptop, opens it back up, and angles the screen toward me. A map of the country fills the display, all state borders and city names.
“Let’s figure it out,” she says. “What are we looking for? Somewhere cheap, obviously. Somewhere with decent healthcare access. Somewhere far enough from here that Erik won’t stumble across you by accident.”
I stare at the map. My mind is blank.
Ellie’s fingers fly across the keyboard. “What about the Pacific Northwest? Oregon, maybe?”
I blink. “I’ve never been to Oregon.” It’s the only thing I can think of to say. It sounds stupid. The idea of just picking up and starting somewhere completely different feels both terrifying and attractive.
I never have to run into Erik Nilsson again. I don’t know if that makes me want to laugh or cry.
She scrolls through listings. “Look—there are rooms for rent in Portland for under seven hundred a month. Shared housing, mostly students.”
I do the math quickly in my head. The stipend from the marriage arrangement—which I’m technically still entitled to until the year is up—would cover that and then some. And I’ve been careful with the money I had from before, squirreling away what I could from my coffee shop wages.
“I have enough saved for a few months,” I say. “Maybe four or five, if I’m careful. That would give me time to find work, get settled before—” I gesture vaguely at my midsection.
“Before you start showing.” Ellie nods. “Okay. Portland. Let’s look at the details.”
We spend the next hour researching. Ellie finds a house share in a good neighborhood, close to a community college and two major universities. The listing says they’re looking for a quiet, responsible housemate—no parties, no drama, willing to help with dishes.
“Apply,” Ellie says. “Right now, before you talk yourself out of it.”
My fingers hover over the keyboard. This is insane. I can’t just uproot my entire life based on a one-hour planning session with my sister. I have responsibilities here, connections, a job—
And I’m going to lose my child if I don’t.
I type out the application and hit send before I can change my mind.
“Now what?” I ask.
“Now you go home—or wherever you’re staying—and pack your bag.
Buy a bus ticket for the first departure you can get.
And don’t tell anyone where you’re going.
” Ellie’s voice is steady, practical. “I mean it, Nolan. Not Mrs. Kay, not Hazel, not anyone. If Erik comes looking, you need there to be nothing for him to find.”
“What about you? If he asks—”
“I’ll tell him to fuck off,” She smiles, a little sadly. “He won’t be expecting anything else from how he’s treated you.”
“Ellie—”
“We’ll stay in touch by phone. I’ll text you updates on my treatment. You’ll send me photos of wherever you end up. And when things settle down, then I’ll come visit and meet my niece or nephew.”
The tears finally spill over. I can’t stop them.
“I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you,” I manage.
“You did. For years. Now it’s my turn.” She opens her arms, and I fall into them like I’m six years old again, burying my face in her shoulder. She strokes my hair the way our mother used to.
We stay like that for a long time before I leave her behind so I can go pack the little I own and move somewhere I have never been.
I don’t need to go find Mrs Kay to give her the last of the rent I owe her because she comes upstairs with another bowl of her wonderful stew. She takes one look at me shoving clothing into my duffel and says, “You’re leaving,” not a question. She’s always been able to read me too easily.
“I have to.” I’m stuffing the last of my clothes into the bag, trying to make everything fit. “I can’t explain, but—I have to go.”
Mrs. Kay lowers herself into the room’s single chair with a sigh. “Is this about that alpha? The one you married?”
I freeze. “How did you know about that?”
“I’m old, not stupid. You disappear for a month, come back looking like death warmed over, start jumping every time a car door slams outside.” She shrugs. “I put it together.”
I don’t know what to say. I stare at her.
“He can’t know where I’ve gone,” I say finally. “If anyone asks—”
“I don’t know anything.” Her voice is firm. “You paid through the end of the month, then you disappeared. I never saw where you went, never heard from you again. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.”
“Mrs. Kay—”
“Go.” She waves a hand at me. “Before you make me cry, and then I’ll have to pretend I have allergies.”
I cross the room and hug her. She smells like lavender and I memorize it, tuck it away somewhere safe.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For everything.”
“Just don’t name the baby after me. Mildred is a terrible name. I should know.” She pulls back, patting my cheek with one papery hand. “Now go. Be safe. Be happy if you can manage it. And if you ever need to come back, there’s always a place for you here.”
The bus station is crowded with people in transit. I find my spot on a bench near Gate 7 and settle in to wait.
The ticket in my pocket says Portland, Oregon. Departure: 11:45 PM. Arrival: approximately 8 AM tomorrow, assuming no delays.
I’ve never been to Oregon. I don’t know anyone there. I have four months’ worth of savings, a room in a house share that I secured through email, and a baby growing in my belly that will change everything about my life.
It’s terrifying. It’s also the first thing I’ve chosen for myself in longer than I can remember.
My phone buzzes. Ellie.
Did you make it to the station?
I type back: Waiting for boarding. Gate 7.
I love you. Be safe.
I love you too. Take care of yourself.
I smile despite everything and tuck the phone back in my pocket.
“Now boarding at Gate 7,” the PA system crackles. “Bus 247 to Portland, Oregon. Now boarding.”
I stand, grab my duffel bag and join the queue. The night stretches out ahead of me, dark and full of uncertainty. But for the first time in months, I feel something other than despair.
I feel free.