Chapter 3
CHAPTER
THREE
Britton
My head pounds as I grip it to ease the hammering ache and roll over to the side, hitting a brick wall. My eyes snap open and when I see a man’s buff chest in my line of vision, I release a blood-curdling scream.
“Shh,” the male voice whispers, reaching over and cupping my mouth to stop my high-pitched, streaming bellows. “Woman, stop. I’m too damn hungover to have my ear drums busted.”
“LoneStar?” I ask, clutching the sheet to my bare chest, and pushing his hand away from my face. “Fucking hell. We had sex, didn’t we?”
“I don’t remember,” he mumbles, sounding morose as he lifts the sheet and looks down at his body. “I’m naked, are you naked?”
“As the day I was born,” I snap, internally examining my body for signs of sex.
I find a ton of them. My breasts are sore, moreso my nipples as if they’ve been chewed on, I have beard burn on my chest, and feel the evidence of the same thing between my legs.
Dammit, that’s something I’d love to be able to remember because I have a feeling he’s a master at eating a woman out. “Please say we used a condom.”
“I can’t,” he sighs. “Because I don’t remember.”
“You already said that,” I gripe.
“Well, I’m saying it again, Britton. I can’t tell you something I don’t know. Are you on the pill?”
“Yes,” I lie, clamping my eyes closed. I can’t use any form of birth control on the market that the doctors have found.
I’m allergic to everything that’s been prescribed which is why I rely on condoms to prevent myself from getting knocked up, amongst other things like sexually transmitted diseases.
That thought has my stomach churning. “I’m gonna be sick. ”
“Put your foot on the ground and use it as landing gear,” he says, thinking I’m nauseous from the after effects of alcohol.
“That’s not what has me queasy,” I acknowledge. “When’s the last time you’ve been tested, LoneStar?”
“You mean for diseases and shit?” he asks, sounding angry.
“Yes. For diseases and shit,” I grumble.
“I don’t fuck without protection, Britton. And I just had my quarterly test for insurance before I left for Montana. The results came back clean.”
“Don’t get snappy with me, LoneStar. Were you with anybody while you were gone?”
“No, Britton. I was working,” he growls through gritted teeth. “Wanna share your sexual history with me too? Have you been tested and when’s the last time you were with a man before me?”
“Three years, fucker. It’s been three goddamn years since I had sex. Satisfied?” I huff.
“Almost. Last time you were tested was when, Britton?”
“Before coming here,” I reluctantly answer. “When I applied for health insurance.”
“So we’re both clean, you’re on birth control, looks like we beat the bullet on that one, huh?” he cheekily asks.
“Yes,” I lie—again. For the life of me, I don’t understand why I’m not telling him the God’s honest truth. It’s not like me to fib, even if it’s a little one, which this one is not.
This is big.
Monumentous.
Life-changing.
A ‘fuck me walking sideways’ blooper.
But I have a plan to hit the pharmacy as soon as I get dressed, grab a cup of coffee, and sneak out of his room without anyone being the wiser. I cannot stand doing the walk of shame.
It’s a damn good thing we were both hungover and in shock because he didn’t fight me on my quick escape.
He teased me about not being able to keep my hands to myself, but I don’t think either of us truly thought we’d end up between the sheets, burning the midnight oil while fucking each other’s brains out.
And with the bites and myriad of marks marring my flesh, we had a damn good time, too bad neither one of us remembers.
I didn’t even go to the trailer to see Jersey before hopping in my car and hauling ass off the compound.
Thankfully, I keep a spare key in my middle console so I didn’t have to go in search of my purse.
Also, I keep a prepaid credit card in my car for instances where I misplace said purse and need to buy something.
I have one goal in mind and that’s to grab that little pill that’ll prevent pregnancy.
Neither LoneStar nor I are in a place to have a kid.
And seeing as we’re not in a committed relationship, it’s an entirely different set of circumstances we’re in.
Not one where I can say, “Hey, honey. Remember that time we forgot to use a rubber? Well, in a few months’ time, you’re gonna be a daddy,” and know that he’ll be somewhat happy.
“Jesus,” I mumble. “The hell is wrong with you, Britton? Why did you outright lie to him? He ever finds out that I did, and he’s not going to take that lightly.”
Nope.
He won’t simply turn me over his knee and whip my ass, he’ll fucking destroy me.
Men like him don’t take being lied to with a shrug of their shoulders, not with things such as this anyhow.
Great, now I’m panicking. My flight instinct is stronger than it’s ever been, and this time, it’s not because I’ve grown restless, it’s because I’m scared shitless.
After parking in front of the pharmaceutical chain, I sit there for a moment and catch my breath.
“You’ve got this, Britton. Nothing bad is going to happen,” I declare, trying to convince myself that I’ll be able to get out of this disaster of my own making.
“I’m a damn fool.” Gripping my key and snatching my credit card, I get out and lock up before strolling into the store as if I haven’t all but obliterated my time at the Kings compound.
It’s time to go. There’s no way I’ll be able to look LoneStar in the eye ever again.
Not without cringing anyway. This is why I always, no matter what, tell the truth.
I loathe liars and I just became one. Shaking my head at my self-incrimination, I saunter into the store as if nothing’s wrong in my world and head to the back to talk to a pharmacist.
The line is fairly long, so while I stand here, waiting for my turn, the pregnancy test and condoms mock me. They’re right there in the aisle, staring at me, taunting me, yelling nana-booboo. “Shit,” I hiss, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
The people in front of me get what they came for and before I know it, it’s my turn at the counter. “How can I help you?” the cashier questions.
My face flushes, knowing that I’m going to have to admit that I’m a failure. “I need the plan B pill please.”
The woman gives me a sympathetic yet confused look. “What was that?” she asks, swallowing past a lump in her throat. What’s the damn big deal? Has she never had anyone ask for the morning after pill?
“The morning after pill, please,” I reiterate, biting my tongue to keep from lashing out at her. It’s not her fault LoneStar and I got rip roaring drunk and made bad decisions.
“Um,” she fumbles, her clumsy way around using words has my back stiffening. After clicking on her keyboard, her face becomes as white as a piece of printer paper. “Can you, um, can you give me a minute?”
“Sure. Why not,” I say, tossing my hands in the air. “It’s not like I don’t have all the time in the world. Just trying to prevent an oops baby from fertilizing.”
The cashier lowers her gaze and mumbles her apologies before scurrying off in a submissive way that has me gritting my teeth. I call myself all kinds of a bitch before a man in a white lab coat and glasses so thick that they hide the features of his face moves toward me.
“Ma’am,” he says, coming up to the register and asking me, “Could you please step over here to the consultation area so we can speak privately?”
All the fine hairs on my arms stand on end as I nod my head and go to the cubicle he directed me to. “Is there a problem?”
“Yes and no,” he waveringly answers.
When he stalls for longer than I’d like him to, I decide to probe him along, asking, “Can you share with me what that is?”
“There’s been a recall on the morning after pill. They’ve been… tainted,” he explains.
“Tainted,” I whisper. “All of them? How?”
“That’s not something I’m at liberty to discuss,” he informs me. “Not all of the facts have been published, all I know is that we had to send our shipment back and we can’t order more. It’s been banned at this time.”
Banned! “And when is that ban going to be lifted and can I go someplace else and get one?” I shoot off my questions, my skin growing slick with sweat.
This cannot be happening!
“We don’t know and every pharmacy has had to send their inventory back. There’s nowhere in the States you can get your hands on a script for it,” he conveys.
My head hangs and all I can think about is the fact that my passport is expired so I can’t even take a trip across the border and hit Mexico up for it.
This goes hand-in-hand with the theme of my life—completely and utterly fucked up.
Not having the mental capacity to argue with him any further or ask if there’s something else I can do, I drag my feet back to my car and grab my phone out of my pocket. At least I had that with me last night because I need to do some research and find out what the holy hell is going on.
The more I read of the online articles, the more freaked out I get when I see all of the reports written on the topic.
Seems like a group of those opposed to preventing pregnancies, stating that even embryos recently going through gestation are all God’s children and we don’t have the right to go against His will ‘tainted’ every batch made by getting jobs in the lab and poisoning the stock.
They don’t go into further details by saying what that poison was, which is sickening because how many women have been a victim of those radicals?
And since the Federal Drug Administration doesn’t know how far back this endeavor of theirs goes, they pulled every pill from sale and they’re all set to be destroyed.
“Why?” I ask the universe, banging my head on the steering wheel. “Why me?”