Chapter 16
Callie
I head downstairs to find my parents in the kitchen.
Dad’s topping off his coffee; Mom’s flipping an omelet, hair curled, already dressed for work. The smell of pepper and eggs hits me before I even make it to the table.
“I was getting worried I’d have to come wake you,” Mom says when she sees me.
“Oh, no.” I laugh lightly. “I just didn’t feel like getting out of bed yet.”
“I heard you on the phone late last night,” Dad says. Not accusatory, just curious. “Who was it?”
“It was Mitch,” I answer, trying to sound casual.
He nods once and takes a sip of coffee, satisfied.
“He okay?” Mom asks, still facing the stove.
“Yeah.” My throat tightens a little. “We, uh…kinda started dating.”
That gets their attention.
“What?” Mom says, eyebrows lifting—but she’s smiling.
“Yeah. For a few weeks now. We kept it quiet at first, just to make sure it wasn’t…temporary or something.”
Mom sets the spatula down and leans a hip against the counter, smiling wider. “Well, that’s not what I expected to hear this morning.”
Dad chuckles into his mug. “You and Mitch, huh?”
I shrug, fingers worrying at the edge of my pajama sleeve. “Yeah. It just kind of happened.”
He smiles faintly. “He’s a good kid. Hard worker.”
Mom turns her focus to me. “So how long is ‘a few weeks’?”
“Since right before the Fourth,” I admit. “We didn’t want to say anything until we knew if it was actually…something.”
She nods, thinking. “Well, I’ve always liked him. He’s polite.”
“Josie know?”
“Not yet,” I say, laughing a little.
“Oh boy, she’s gonna freak,” Mom says with a smirk.
“Yeah.” I grin down at my coffee. Josie’s been betting on Mitch and me since sophomore year. Guess she finally won.
* * *
The smell of waffles and syrup hits me before I’m even through the door.
Holland’s already at the kitchen table, coloring with a fistful of markers, a half-eaten waffle in front of her. Nash is in a diaper, pushing a dump truck full of blocks across the living room floor, making his own sound effects.
“Good morning!” Wrenley calls, slipping her shoes on by the counter. Her hair’s curled, her dress neat—like always.
“Morning,” I say with a tired smile.
“Look at my horse!” Holland says, shoving her picture toward me.
“Wow!” I laugh, crouching down to her level. “That’s beautiful.”
Wrenley smiles. “How was your weekend? You guys went up to the lake, right?”
“Yeah, it was good.”
“Everyone behaved?”
“Ha. Mostly.”
She laughs. I step farther into the house. Nash toddles over and raises his arms for me to pick him up. I do, settling him on my hip.
“You don’t look as tan as usual,” Wrenley says, grabbing her lunch from the counter. “Was it cloudy?”
“Um, no. I just didn’t really lay out much this time.”
“Oh. Well, that’s not like you,” she teases.
I force a laugh. “Yeah, I guess not.”
There’s a pause, and I hear myself blurting it out before I can stop it. “Hey, I had a question for you actually. About…a friend of mine.”
“Sure,” she says easily. “What’s up?”
“When you found out you were pregnant…what did you do first?”
Her brow lifts a little. “Oh,” she breathes, face almost pale. “This isn’t about Maddie, is it?”
I shake my head quickly. “I said I wouldn’t tell.”
“Okay,” she says, still smiling but watching me more closely now. “Then…she’d call her OB-GYN and schedule an appointment. They’ll ask when her last period was to figure out how far along she might be.”
“What happens at that appointment?”
“They’ll do blood work to confirm it, probably an ultrasound. Go over what she can and can’t eat, that sort of thing. It can be a lot of information. I remember feeling a little overwhelmed.”
“Okay.” My voice sounds smaller than I want it to.
She tilts her head, still watching me. “Does Luke know? Or—I mean—the dad? He knows, right?”
“Yeah,” I rush out. “Yeah, he knows.”
“Good.”
Silence fills the kitchen, heavier than before. I can feel her eyes on me, but I keep mine on Nash, tracing his little curls with my fingers.
Finally, she exhales. “Well, tell Maddie not to panic. They might’ve made a mistake, but God doesn’t make mistakes, even when it might feel like one. There’s always a reason.”
I nod, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. “Yeah. I’ll tell her.”
“I hope she’s doing okay mentally. I can’t imagine having a baby that young.” She shakes her head softly, grabbing her bag. “Right before college, too. Geez.”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I know.”
She smiles gently, blowing a kiss to the kids before heading out the door.
The screen door creaks shut behind her, and the house is quiet again except for Nash’s truck rattling across the tile.
I sit down at the table beside Holland, trying to color, but my hand won’t stop shaking.
* * *
The air’s hot when Mitch pulls into my gravel driveway, his truck rumbling low. The sky’s streaked orange and pink.
He leans across the seat to open my door, the smell of his cologne and gasoline filling the cab. “Hey,” he says softly, like he’s testing my mood.
“Hey.” I buckle my seat belt and give him a small smile. “Thanks for picking me up.”
“Of course.” He taps the steering wheel twice before backing out. “Figured we could grab something to eat and go for a drive. You eat yet?”
“Not really.”
“Good. I’m starving.”
We drive with the windows down, the warm air whipping through the cab, both of us hanging our hands out the window.
He stops at Rudy’s, the little diner that sits on the edge of town.
He shoves it in park. “Burger?”
“Eh, I think I just want fries.”
He doesn’t say anything, his eyes just looking over me briefly. “Meat might be good for the baby…” he suggests.
“Well, I don’t want meat right now, Mitch.”
The words come out sharper than I mean them to.
He nods once. “Okay. Sorry. Fries it is.”
He gets out of the truck, and the door shuts with a soft thud. I watch him walk toward the window, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders a little tight. Guilt settles heavy in my chest.
I lean my head back against the seat and stare at the ceiling, replaying it. He was just trying to help. I rub my hands over my face, breathing through that familiar mix of irritation and nausea and emotion that never seems to let up.
This isn’t me. And I hate that he’s the one witnessing my shortcomings.
When he comes back a few minutes later, a brown paper bag folded at the top in his hand, he slides into the seat quietly. The truck smells like grease and salt immediately.
I don’t let the silence stretch any longer.
“Mitch,” I say softly. “I’m sorry for snapping.”
“It’s all good.” He shrugs, setting the food between us on the center console.
He opens the bag and hands me the fries. I glance down—and immediately regret it. Steak fries. Thick wedges. Normally my favorite. But the smell floods the cab, heavy and greasy, and suddenly all I can think about is the starchy texture, the way it’ll feel in my mouth.
My stomach turns.
I sigh, defeated, annoyed with myself, and rest my elbow on the console, my head dropping into my hand.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“I just…I don’t want these now.” I push the fries aside, not even wanting to look at them because I’m pretty sure I’ll throw up if I do.
He doesn’t get annoyed. Doesn’t tease. Just nods. “Alright. Um, can I get you something else?”
“No, it’s fine.”
“Callie,” he says gently, “you gotta eat, babe.”
“I don’t want greasy,” I say, my voice tight. “I want, like…I want…” I trail off, frustrated because I don’t even know what I want. My brain’s bouncing between a salad and ice cream like those are even remotely the same thing.
“Tell me,” he says easily. “We’ll get it. I don’t care.”
“A salad,” I blurt.
His eyebrows lift, and then he laughs. “Callie Carter wants a salad?” He grins at me. “Wow. You really are pregnant.”
Despite myself, a small smile tugs at my mouth.
I cross my arms, trying not to laugh.
“Be right back,” he says, heading back into Rudy’s.
I’ve never felt more high-maintenance.
He comes out a few minutes later, shoving his wallet back in his pocket, salad in one of those disposable foil pie plates with a plastic lid, little cup of ranch dressing wedged in the side, and it’s loaded with fresh vegetables—tomatoes, carrots, cucumber. My mouth is watering.
“Good to go?” Mitch asks.
“Thank you.”
“Course.” He shoves the receipt in his cupholder and we head out of the parking lot.
He parks beneath the big oak tree along the creek and kills the engine, and the whole world goes still. Just cicadas, frogs, and the sound of water moving. We get out and sit on his tailgate.
“Dinner with a view,” he says, unwrapping his burger while I mix up my salad.
We eat in silence for a minute, quenching our hunger before we speak. I think about what Wrenley said earlier and check the time on my phone.
6:42. The doctor’s office closes at seven.
“Hey,” I start, “I need to call the doctor and make an appointment. They close soon.”
He pauses midbite, then nods. “Yeah? Let’s do it.”
I stare at the screen for a long second before opening the photos app where I took a picture of the phone number of the OB-GYN in Maven. My palms are already sweating.
Mitch scoots a little closer, mouth full, chewing while I type the phone number in and put it on speaker. I set it between us, my heart beating faster.
It rings twice before a woman answers, her voice calm and professional. “Maven OB-GYN, this is Diane.”
“Hi,” I say, too fast. “Um, hi. Yeah, I just…need to schedule an appointment?”
“Sure, are you a current patient or new?”
“New.”
“Alright. What’s your name, honey?”
“Calliope Carter,” I say.
She starts typing. “Okay, and what’s the appointment for?”
My throat tightens. “Um…I’m pregnant.”
“Oh okay, congratulations,” she says kindly. “So you’re coming in to confirm and establish care. Do you know the first day of your last period?”
I blink. “Um…” I look at Mitch helplessly. He shrugs. How would he know?
“Hold on,” I say, pulling up the calendar on my phone. “It was sometime at the end of May?”
“Okay, so you’d be around…six weeks maybe?” she says. “We’ll get you in soon. How’s Friday, July twenty-fourth? What time works best for you?”
“Anytime after five thirty probably.”
“Okay, how’s six?”
“That works.”
She asks me a few more questions—my birthday, if I’m taking any medications, my address, and then about insurance. That one hits me like a slap.
“Um…yeah, I’m still on my parents’ insurance.”
“Totally fine,” she says easily. “Do you have the card with you?”
“No.”
“That’s okay, bring it when you come. We’ll verify when you check in.”
I feel myself start to sweat. I don’t even know where an insurance card would be. In my parent’s’ room somewhere? A wallet? I don’t know where they keep stuff like that.
I swallow hard. “Will they…know? About the visit?”
There’s a small pause on the other end. “Usually insurance holders can see general billing summaries but not details. It would just say the office name.”
“Oh.” My voice is tiny. I look at Mitch. I think he can tell I’m spiraling. His face stays calm; he nods and nudges me to finish the call before I burst into tears.
She gives me the date, time, and directions again, and Mitch jots some of it in his phone.
After I hang up, the air in the truck feels heavier. I can feel Mitch’s eyes on me, and he reaches over, brushing my arm.
“Breathe,” he says. And I feel myself shutting down, overwhelmed and scared.
“It’s too much, Mitch. I can’t—”
“It’s not for over two weeks. Plenty of time to figure stuff out, Callie.”
“Easy for you to say,” I mumble.
“You think I’m not gonna come with you?”
I look at him. “Are you?”
“Course I am?” He scoffs. “Who do you think I am?”
“But you work.”
“It’s a Friday. We’re usually done early. Either way, I’ll be there. It’s not like Luke doesn’t know what’s going on.”
The weight in my stomach lightens and I reach for another bite of my salad. For a minute or two, neither of us says anything. We just eat in comfortable silence.