18. Chapter Eighteen #2
"I don't know. Four weeks? Five? Probably five. It was right before I got bronchitis. I Then I fell asleep on the couch a couple of nights and missed a couple of pills…" The words are coming out wrong — too high, too fast. "Oh my— um, shit— no— just no. We were careful—"
"Careful isn't perfect." Paige's thumb moves in small circles on my spine. "And that smell reaction? Remember me a few weeks ago, babe? This place is pregnant lady kryptonite."
The door opens.
Lindy slips in, reads the room in one glance. "Oh, girl."
"We need a test." Quinn's already problem-solving. "CVS is two blocks away."
"The boys—"
"Are watching Tyler recover from Liam's prank," Lindy says. "They're not going to notice if Quinn and I slip out for ten minutes."
"If anyone asks, tell them it's a girl emergency. Lipstick crisis. They won't ask any more than that. We'll be back before Tyler attempts some other dumb challenge."
"I'll take Sarah back to the table," Paige says quietly. "We'll hold down the fort."
Quinn squeezes my shoulder once. "Back in less than ten minutes. Breathe, okay?"
They leave. The door swings shut.
It's just me and Paige in the fluorescent buzz, the distant chaos of Wing Wednesday bleeding through the walls.
"I cannot be pregnant," I say to the mirror.
"Because?" Paige takes on the role of the voice of reason. “Honey, I think you may have to consider the possibility.”
"Because Kevin and I aren't — we're not really together-together. I mean, we said we're going to try being exclusive, but not like anything more that. We're not like you and Brett. We're just—"
"Sarah." Paige turns me to face her. "Right now, that's not what we need to solve for. Right now, all we need to figure out is: can you go back out there for ten minutes?"
Can I?
I wish I knew that answer for sure.
My hands are shaking. My mouth tastes like copper. But Kevin's out there and if I don't go back, he'll know something's wrong. He'll probably come in here himself.
"Yeah," I whisper. "I can do ten minutes."
Paige pulls me into a quick, fierce hug. "That's my girl. I've got you. We've got you. All of us."
She fixes my hair, hands me a piece of gum from her purse, checks my face. "See if the gum helps. It worked for me. Okay. You look normal. Ish."
I'm definitely more ish than normal. Nothing is normal. "Gee, thanks."
"Come on. Tyler's probably trying to redeem himself. That's good cover."
We walk out together. The bar noise hits full volume. Tyler is indeed attempting another chip while the table gives him shit, Liam's looking very pleased with himself, Aiden's shaking his head like a disappointed dad. Nothing out of the ordinary at all.
Except for what Paige and I know is coming next.
I slide back into the booth. Kevin's hand finds mine under the table immediately, a warm squeeze. He's just supporting, being Kevin, not asking questions.
But I know he'll have plenty of them soon enough.
"You good?" His voice is low, just for me, not loud enough to get caught in Momo's filming and broadcast to social media.
"Just needed a minute from the wing fumes. Tyler's really committed to this." I hope my voice isn't shaking.
He accepts the explanation, but he’s reading me like a play developing on ice. Thin ice. Very thin ice.
Jen slides my plate of chicken and bun and ranch and fried sweet potatoes in front of me. It looks perfect. On any other night, it would probably taste fine.
Across the table, Paige catches my eye. Small nod. You've got this.
But I definitely don't. I'm just a girl with a chicken sandwich she's not going to eat, a water she's not going to drink, and a big, giant, fucking mess of an impeding life crisis she can't avoid.
I pick up a sweet potato fry just to have something to do with my hands. I can't eat it. But I can hold it.
Maybe Kevin won't notice that I'm not taking a bite.
"Twenty bucks says he gives up after this chip," Graham's saying.
"I'll take that bet," Aiden counters. "Kid's stubborn."
My phone buzzes. It's Paige, messaging me discreetly from across the table.
Paige Breathe. They'll be back soon.
Kevin's thumb is moving on my palm. Small circles. Steady. Safe. He thinks he's helping. God bless him, he's trying.
I finally find the one man in the world who just wants the best for me, who wants to make everything okay for me, and this is what happens… I cannot even believe the universe right now.
I'm going to ruin everything. And I want to cry. Or hyperventilate.
Or hyperventilate while crying.
Tyler takes another bite of regular salsa and survives. Liam looks almost disappointed. Graham orders another round. Josh switches to water because he's going to have to drive home in just a bit to tuck his daughter in. I can't believe how normal everything continues to be.
Because nothing's normal anymore. And Paige and I are the only ones here who know it.
The door opens. Quinn and Lindy slip back in, Lindy's purse slightly fuller than when she left.
"Crisis averted," Lindy announces brightly, sliding back into her seat. "Found the perfect shade."
Paige stands. "I need to borrow Sarah for a second. Girl stuff."
Kevin's hand tightens on mine for just a second before releasing. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," I lie as I grab my purse. "She just needs my opinion on something. Lipstick. Important girl business."
The four of us head back to the bathroom. Quinn pulls out the CVS bag like it's her most prized bag of medical essentials: bottle of water, pregnancy test, ginger chews.
Lindy sets the water on the sink. Paige folds a paper towel and rests it on the side of the sink. Quinn hands me the box.
"Three minutes," she says quietly.
I take everything into the stall. My hands are steadier than they should be. The instructions are simple. I follow them exactly. I cap the tip.
I come back out. Set the test on the paper towel Paige laid out.
We wait.
The fluorescent hum of the light above is a metronome. On the other side of the door, Wing Wednesday's still going on like nothing else is happening — Tyler's voice rising in protest about something, someone laughing, the clink of glasses.
Paige's hand is back between my shoulder blades. Quinn's leaning against the sink. Lindy's got her arms crossed.
Three minutes is nothing.
Three minutes is forever.
"Okay, time’s up," Quinn says softly as the alarm on her phone beeps.
We all look at the sink at the same time.
The little plastic stick looks... Ordinary. Cheap. Like it should be a piece of packaging that you toss in the trash. Not something that is deciding the entire trajectory of my life.
But it is.
And there they are.
Two lines.
Pink. Clear. Undeniable.
Paige's breath draws in abruptly. Quinn gives one shallow nod. She’s absolutely not an OB-Gyn, and she doesn’t need to be. Anyone off the street could read this test and diagnose me. Lindy leans against the wall.
They don't shriek. They don't panic. They just fold around me in a quiet, shaky hug.
"What do you need right now?" Quinn asks.
What do I need?
I need to rewind time. I need a plan that can’t possibly exist because this can’t possibly be reality.
But instead of any of that, I find a way to string together words that make the most basic of sense. "I need to get through dinner without losing it."
Paige's hand tightens on my back. "Okay. We can do that."
"And I need—" My voice cracks. "I need to think before I tell him. I can't do this here. Not like this."
"Not like this," Quinn reiterates firmly. "We go back out there. We act normal. And when you're ready — whenever that is — we're right here."
"You're not doing this alone," Lindy adds.
I wrap the test in paper towels, tuck it deep inside my purse. "Okay. I can manage. Right?"
"You can," Paige says. "And we're not leaving your side."
We put ourselves back together. Fix hair. Check faces. Lindy applies lipstick so our cover story stays intact.
And then we walk out like it was all about lipstick, except that we all know two pink lines just changed everything.
Back at the booth, Kevin's already positioned my water closer.
Tyler's recovering with a milkshake. Liam's still not looking at Quinn — like even eye contact is a penalty he can't afford. Graham and Aiden are arguing about something. Normal. Everything's so fucking normal.
I stare at my sandwich. Won't eat it. Won't even pretend.
We had rules. That fact keeps circling in my head. Rules about honesty and privacy and nothing affecting the team or the rescue.
The rules were supposed to keep this thing between us safe and temporary.
Everything just changed in a bathroom stall while the boys argued about rookie hazing via a bowl of dip and some corn chips.
What a fucking mess.
Kevin leans in. "You sure you're okay?"
I nod. He doesn't buy it, but he lets it go. Takes a fry from his plate, drops it onto mine like a peace offering.
His eyes flick from the untouched food to my face, and I see the split second where he files it away, like it’s a broken play to study later.
I sip water. Try not to think about the test in my purse or the way Paige keeps catching my eye with a steady “you've-got-this” kind of look.
I make it through. Barely. Liam says he's moving to Whistling Pig for round two and Aiden and Tyler try to talk Kevin into coming with them. Kevin waves Liam’s afterparty idea off, saying he's got to go home and let Ranger out.
Really, I know it's about me. I know he's going to put his arm around my shoulder and walk me upstairs. He's going to get me to my door and make sure I'm okay.
But I'm not okay.
Paige mouths a goodbye to me as she and Brett head out. Lindy and Quinn give me a quick hug and whisper in my ear. They've got me.
That's good, because I don't even have myself right now.
Kevin stands, drops cash for the tip, and thanks Danny. His arm finds my shoulders like I knew he would, easy and automatic. The roar of Wing Wednesday dims as the kitchen door swings behind us.
Maybe the test is wrong. Maybe it's a false positive. Maybe CVS has terrible quality control and I got a defective one from a bad batch.