Chapter 17
17
Jade
I ’m sitting on the edge of my couch, staring at the collection of pregnancy tests on my coffee table. It feels like they’re staring back at me, ganging up on me with their stupid pink lines and bold little plus signs. I’ve taken five tests now and each one has come back positive. My heart is racing, my palms are sweaty, and I can’t even catch my breath. My whole world is tilting off its axis. Tawny’s pacing the room, biting her thumbnail as she watches me unravel.
“Okay, first things first,” she says, her voice breaking through the storm in my head. She sits down next to me and grabs my hand. “We need to calm you down, Jade. You’re going to hyperventilate if you keep this up.”
My fingers tremble as I run them through my hair, and I let out a shaky laugh that’s half hysterical.
“How am I supposed to calm down?” I nearly scream through tears that are starting to fall. “Tawny, I can’t do this. I’m not ready to be a mom. This can’t be happening.”
She pulls me against her, running her hands over my shoulders in a soothing pattern.
“Just breathe, okay?” she says quietly, in a soothing voice. “In and out. Focus on me.”
Her brown eyes are steady, grounding me in a way that I desperately need.
I take a deep breath. Then another. Slowly, my vision clears, and the room stops spinning. But the problem? The problem is still very much there.
“Five tests, Tawny,” I whisper. “Five freaking tests. They all said the same thing. I…” My voice cracks, and I bury my face in my hands. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“Okay, let’s take this one step at a time,” Tawny says, her voice calm and pragmatic. “Have you told the father? Also, who is the father?”
Where do I even begin?
“It’s such a long story,” I start, wiping the tears off my face. “But you remember that guy Declan? From the hardware store?”
Tawny’s squeal is nearly deafening, and I have to pull away from her to not fully lose my hearing.
“You. Are. Shitting. Me!” she exclaims, emphasizing every word. “Tell me everything right now!”
“Tawny,” I groan, gesturing to the pregnancy tests and the tissues that are gathering on the couch between us. “Maybe we can debrief on all that later.”
She deflates a little, but I can tell she sees reason. I’m literally going through a crisis right now, though I do have to admit it’s nice to unburden myself from some of this information.
“Well…” she starts, drifting off for a moment. “Have you thought about telling Declan?”
Declan. His name alone sends a jolt of electricity through my chest. Memories of his crooked smile, the way his eyes seemed to pierce right through me, flash through my mind. I’ve been replaying our time together over and over since it happened. The easy laughter, the way he made me feel like the only person in the world. But one night and a handful of texts? That’s all it’s been. I barely know him.
“I’m supposed to have a date with him tomorrow,” I mumble. “How am I supposed to make it through that? Do I just blurt out that I’m pregnant?”
Tawny raises an eyebrow and leans back, crossing her arms. “Absolutely not,” she responds resolutely. “Not yet, at least. You need to figure out what you want first. You can’t just spring this on him without knowing where you stand.”
“But he has a right to know,” I argue weakly.
“Sure, he does,” she agrees easily, though her tone isn’t any less steely. “But not right now. Let’s be real here, Jade. You’ve got to take some time to get to know him. See where things go before dropping a bombshell like this. If you’re going to be tied to him for life, you want to know if he’s really a good guy first.”
I sigh. She’s right. Of course she’s right. Still, the weight of this secret feels like it’s crushing me, and I’ve only known myself for a few hours.
“Fine,” I mutter. “I won’t say anything to him. Not yet.”
Tawny flashes me a small, reassuring smile and nudges my shoulder.
“I think that’s the best decision,” she encourages. “Now, how about we get out of here? Sitting around is only going to make you spiral more. Don’t you have to work today?”
The drive into town is quiet, a comfortable silence settling between us. Tawny hums along to the radio, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, while I stare out the window, lost in thought. The white fields of snow blur past, the trees dead but somehow beautiful under the weight of the snow. It’s a beautiful and magical world, a good distraction from the thoughts racing through my head.
Everything essentially looks the same as it did yesterday, but it feels like a different world. Somehow, I’ve been transported from being a single woman keeping a low profile in a small town to being a future mother. My hands instinctively cradle my flat stomach, as if I might already be able to feel the life growing there. It’s ridiculous, of course, but I want to feel some kind of physical connection to it, hoping maybe that can help me decide what to do.
“So,” Tawny says after a while, breaking the silence. “Have you calmed down enough to tell me what exactly happened between you and Mountain Man?”
I hesitate, not wanting to shatter the beauty of what we had by getting outside opinions on it. But she’ll be relentless if I don’t tell her what happened between me and Declan.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” she hums, so excited she’s nearly buzzing. “How did it happen?”
A small smile tugs at my lips despite myself. I tell her about him coming to the cabin, how the storm came on suddenly, how the tree fell on his truck, and he ended up stranded at my place.
“I don’t know,” I muse. “I was just trying to be friendly, so I pulled out a bottle of whiskey to help with his pain and things started to happen between us. It was kind of a blur the first time.”
“The first time?” she squeals, her voice too loud in the small space. “Exactly how many times did you two…” she trails off, knowing I understand her meaning perfectly.
“Let’s just say he showed me that the first time wasn’t a fluke.”
“So he’s good in bed?” she asks, he lips pinched in a smirk.
“He’s phenomenal in bed.” I sigh, remembering exactly how well he satisfied me. Then my stomach turns and I’m slammed back into the present, where our actions have had serious consequences.
“Sounds promising,” she says, not noticing my sudden change in demeanor. “But the storm was like a month ago. You guys haven’t seen each other since then?”
I sigh. “No,” I admit sadly. “If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. He’s said his injury has really been bothering him, which is totally fair. But I’ve often wondered if he isn’t just trying to put me off, to delay the inevitable. I wish he would just say, ‘Hey, we had fun, but I don’t think I want to do it again.’”
“You are such a Negative Nancy sometimes,” Tawny complains. “Who’s to say that’s what he’s thinking? Maybe his injury is really bad and he doesn’t want you to see him in pain. You know how guys can be. He’s just being macho.”
I chew on this, and I realize she’s probably right. A month is a hell of a long time to string someone along if he really just wants to call it quits.
“And, hey, if he turns out to be a jerk, you’ve got me,” Tawny goes on when I don’t say anything. “We’ll egg his car or something. No one hurts my friend and gets away with it.”
I laugh, the sound bubbling up unexpectedly. “You really are the worst influence.”
“The best influence,” she corrects, grinning. “Don’t you forget it.”
By the time we pull into the parking lot behind the hardware store, I’m feeling a little lighter. Not much, but enough to take a deep breath and step out of the car without my knees buckling. Tawny gives me a quick squeeze on the shoulder before driving off, and I watch her go, grateful beyond words for her.
The bell above the door jingles as I step inside. The familiar scent of sawdust and metal greets me like an old friend. It’s a slow day, and for once, I’m thankful for that. I settle in behind the counter, trying to focus on organizing receipts and restocking shelves. But my mind keeps wandering back to the pregnancy tests, to Declan, to the million questions swirling in my head.
I’m halfway through pricing a new shipment of tools when the door jingles again. Instinctively, I glance up, prepared to offer a polite smile and a, “How can I help you?” But the words catch in my throat.
The man standing in the doorway isn’t like anyone I’ve ever seen in this sleepy little town. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with a face that looks like it’s been through one too many bar fights. There’s a dangerous edge to him; something that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. His eyes sweep across the store, landing on me.
“Can I help you?” I ask, forcing my voice to stay steady.
He steps closer, his boots thudding heavily against the floor.
“Maybe,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “You got any saws? Circular, preferably.”
I nod and lead him to the aisle where we keep the saws. My pulse quickens with every step. There’s something off about him, something that puts me on edge. He picks up a saw, examines it briefly, and carries it to the counter.
I start ringing it up, eager to get him out of the store as quickly as possible. But just as I’m about to hand him his receipt, he leans forward slightly, his expression shifting into something colder, more calculated.
“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know where Cater Street is, would you?” he asks casually.
My blood runs cold. Cater Street. There’s no Cater Street here. But there is one in LA The memory slams into me like a freight train: the alleyway, the sound of gunfire, the body crumpling to the ground. My stomach twists, and I grip the edge of the counter to steady myself.
“N-no,” I stammer. “There’s no Cater Street in this town.”
The man’s lips curl into a grin that sends a shiver down my spine. He picks up the saw, his movements slow and deliberate.
“You can’t run from us. And if you even look sideways at a cop, I’ll be using this saw to chop off that pretty little head of yours.”
He straightens up, his grin widening as he watches the fear settle in my eyes. The weight of his words presses down on me, each syllable a stone sinking me deeper into panic. My fingers curl tightly around the counter’s edge, my knuckles white, but I don’t dare move or say anything else. My breath feels stuck in my throat, caught between a scream I can’t let out and the air I’m desperately trying to pull in.
As he turns to leave, the bell jingling again like some cruel punctuation, my legs feel like they might give out. I stumble back, pressing myself against the wall behind the counter, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. The room feels smaller, the walls closing in around me. My mind is racing, trying to piece together what to do next. They found me. After all this time, they found me.
I’m shaking so badly I can barely think. I reach for my phone with trembling hands, desperate to call someone, anyone, but who? Tawny? Declan? Certainly not the police.
I take a moment to gather my thoughts and realize that the only thing I can do is run.