Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
JOSIE
T he soft hum of music filters through the air, pulling me from a restless sleep. At first, it’s gentle, soothing, almost like a dream. But then, I hear it—my mom’s off-key voice, loud and persistent, singing along to Jolene with all the enthusiasm she can muster.
“I’m begging on you, please!” She screeches, and I groan, rolling over in bed like a teenager and burying my face in my pillow, trying to block out the sound with a small smile on my face, because her lack of singing on key reminds me of home.
As I push myself up in bed, my gaze lands on a folded note lying on the nightstand.
Hey, I had to go pick up Abby from school. I’ll be back soon.
- Chris
I smile softly to myself, drifting out of bed, and following the terrible melody my mother is holding. I blink repeatedly against the sunlight streaming through the windows, as I stumble through the hallway smelling breakfast .
I enter the kitchen to find my mom standing at the stove, skillet in hand, flipping eggs with an exaggerated flourish like she's got an audience. She doesn’t even notice me at first, so I take a second to enjoy the moment. It’s a bit ridiculous but familiar, and for a second, I smile, even though my brain is still half-asleep.
“Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene—oh hey, sweetie! You’re awake!” she says with a big grin, turning around just as she finishes the chorus. “Good morning! You hungry?”
I blink, still feeling groggy, and try to suppress a laugh. “Morning, Mom,” I mumble, rubbing my eyes. “You’re... you’re really giving Dolly a run for her money, huh?”
She chuckles, totally unfazed by my half-hearted attempt to tease her. “Oh, don’t you start. I’ve got a voice like an angel, don’t I?” She winks at me, her hands moving with confident rhythm as she sets a plate of biscuits down on the counter.
I take a seat at the kitchen table, but as soon as the smell hits me—eggs—I immediately feel the stirrings of nausea deep in my stomach. I press a hand to my mouth, trying to ease the queasy rising in my throat as I shift out of her direct eyeline.
“Mom, I’m... not really hungry,” I say weakly, as she places food on a plate. “Maybe just a coffee for now.”
Her face falls with concern as she looks at me. “You sure, sweetheart? You’ve got to eat something, got to keep my olympic athlete fed!”
I swallow hard, but it doesn’t help. “Don’t worry, there will be more than enough food for me tomorrow,” I mutter, trying to brush off the unease creeping up my spine. I sigh as she turns and continues to stir the eggs in the pan, before clearing her throat, which doesn’t mean anything good .
She sets the spatula down, and turns off the stove, before turning to me. “Josie, I need to ask you something,” she says, her tone sharp as she tries to catch my eye but I focus on the fruit basket as if it is the most interesting thing I have ever seen.
“Josie, I need to ask you something.” She leans over the counter, across from me as she folds her hands together in the middle of us. “How serious is this thing with you and Chris? You two have an almost 20-year age gap, and I’m just... concerned.”
“It’s only fifteen years, Mom, not twenty.”
“Oh, so sorry, five years makes such a difference.” She rolls her eyes, before repeating herself. “How serious is this Josie? Because a fling I can do, but life? I don’t know about life.”
My heart sinks a little at the question. I can feel the heat creeping up my neck, my palms starting to sweat. “Mom,” I begin, trying to sound as confident as I can, even though my voice is shaking a little. “It’s not a fling. I love him. And he loves me. It’s real. It’s not about age, it’s about... what we feel for each other.”
Mom studies me for a long moment, her eyes soft but searching. “Josie, honey, I just don’t want you to get hurt. You’re still so young, and he’s so much older. What if?—”
“I’m not a kid anymore!” I snap, a little too harshly, and I regret it immediately when I see the hurt flash across her face. I swallow hard, trying to steady myself. “Sorry, Mom. But I know what I’m doing. I’m not making a mistake. Chris isn’t like that.”
Mom sighs, pushing the plate of food closer to me, her eyes full of concern. “I’m just worried, Josie.”
Her words hit like a punch, and the air between us thickens with unspoken tension. I can feel the tightness in my chest, the ache that’s been building since the night before. I know she’s just looking out for me, but I can’t help the frustration that bubbles up inside me.
“I love him,” I repeat, my voice quieter now, but still firm. “And he loves me.”
But even as I say the words, I can feel my stomach turning again and my cheeks paling.
Her brow furrows, her eyes scanning my face. “Honey, you sure you're okay?”
“Sorry,” I mumble, my face flush with embarrassment. “I just... I don’t know what’s going on.”
She places a hand on my forehead checking, her touch gentle. “Sweetheart, maybe we need to get you to the doctor.”
“No,” I manage to say, my voice a little more forceful than I intended. “I’m fine. It’s just... I don’t know, maybe something I ate or... stress, or?—”
“Josie, you’re pale,” she cuts me off, her voice sharp with concern. “You can barely stand up straight. ”
“I’m fine, Mom,” I insist, but the room is starting to feel like it's closing in on me. My legs feel like jelly, and I grip the counter to steady myself. “Look, I don't want you to worry. I love Chris and he loves me.”
“Josie, I’ve been around the block a few times. I know how these things can end.”
I jerk forward, pressing my fist into my chest. My head is spinning, my vision starting to blur around the edges .
Suddenly, the smell of the biscuits cooking in the oven, in combination with the eggs on the stove makes my skin feel ice cold.. And then, it happens.
I throw up, as pain flashes across my stomach.
I barely make it to the sink before the bile rises in my throat, and I cough, gasping for air as my body reacts in protest.
“Josie?” Mom’s voice cracks with alarm, and she’s next to me in an instant. “Josie, what’s going on? You don’t look good, honey.”
I shake my head, forcing a weak smile. “Really, I just need some rest. I’ll be fine in a couple of hours. It’s probably just... nothing serious.”
But even as I say the words, I can feel my vision going blurry, the room tilting on its axis. The air feels thin, like I can’t breathe properly, and my chest tightens.
“Josie?” My mom’s voice sounds distant, but I can still hear the worry in her tone. She reaches for me, but my legs give out, and I crumple to the floor in a heap.
Everything goes black before I hit the ground.
The soft beeping of machines is the first thing I hear as I slowly start to regain consciousness. My head feels heavy, there’s a dull ache behind my eyes that pulses with every millisecond, and the room around me is blurry at first, the bright white lights above making my eyes squint as I try to adjust.
I can hear my mom’s voice though the fog of my mind. “But she was nauseous, and then she just..”
“Has anything changed in her diet, maybe her surroundings?” Another voice says soft but professional.
“Stress. She’s been stressed, but she has always been stressed trying to get to the Olympics, it’s the only thing she obsesses about.” My mother counters, and I sink into the thin mattress. I haven’t thought about skating in weeks now, every thought, every action I take has been consumed by Christopher.
“Sometimes stress can-” the nurse begins, but my mother clicks her tongue at her.
“No, no.” My mother sucks in a sharp breath. “It’s something else. I can feel it.”
I shift in the hospital bed, the rustle of the sheets and the soft beeping of the machines drawing both my mom's attention and that of the nurse she’s speaking with.
“Josie!” My mother shrieks, running over to me with a look of relief washing over her as she bends down beside me. “Thank goodness.”
The woman in pink scrubs and big red hair smiles at me as she walks closer to me. “Hi Josie. I am Nurse Alisha. I am going to let Doctor Kelly know you’re awake.”
I nod, looking at my mother as I try to speak, but my throat feels dry, the words a croaky whisper when I manage, “Mom...w-what happened?”
Mom sighs, moving a strand of my hair behind my ear as I try to piece everything together. The last thing I remember is feeling dizzy, overwhelmed, and then—nothing.
“You passed out, sweetheart,” my mom says, her fingers lingering on my jaw. “You threw up and then... you just collapsed. I got so scared.” Her voice cracks at the end, but she’s smiling now, relief flooding her features. “The nurse thinks it’s stress, but I think it’s something else, so I’m going to need you to be honest, tell me and the doctor everything, because my gut is telling me something else.”
I nod tightly, my gaze fixed on my fingers, which feel heavy, almost lifeless beside me. I know how I've been feeling—tired, nauseous, sore—but I can't quite piece together what it all adds up to. Before I can find the words to say anything, a woman in a white coat and pale blue scrubs walks in, a gentle smile on her face.
"Hi, I'm Dr. Kelly Mason, you can call me Dr. Kelly” she leans in closer, shining a small light into my eyes to check my pupils, her brow furrowing slightly as she examines me. . "I heard we took a fall?"
I try to hold still, but the bright light makes me squint and look away. My mother answers for me. “She threw up and then collapsed.”
“Any other symptoms before the collapse?” Dr. Kelly questions, leaning forward.
My mother’s graze drills into the side of my head, and I want to crawl into myself as I look down at my hands and whisper. “Tired, nauseous… and sore, like everywhere sore. And my stomach has been pulsating with pain.”
“Sore, where?” The doctor questions, her fingers pressing into my forearm and up my arm.
“My breasts. I cough out, my cheeks turning a heated pink.
Dr. Kelly nods, her fingers stilling as she gently examines my arm before pulling back. “Those symptoms could be related to the fall,” she says thoughtfully, “but they also sound like they could be caused by something else.” Her fingers crawl over my shoulder as she whispers so gently, I almost miss it. “When was your last menstrual cycle?”
I swallow, my throat tightening as I try to think back. My mind feels foggy, scattered, like I’m grasping at threads that keep slipping away. “Um,” I stammer, shifting uncomfortably on the exam table. “I... I think it was about five weeks ago? Definitely before Halloween.”
Her gaze is kind but direct as she . “Are you sexually active?” she asks, her tone professional.
“Yes.”
Dr. Kelly gives a small nod, as she kicks back on her seat. “Alright,” she says, her voice soothing. “These symptoms could be many things, but I want to make sure there isn't something serious causing your abdominal pain first.”
I nod stiffly, feeling my mother’s eyes boring into me, a silent question I can’t quite face yet. My cheeks burn with embarrassment, and I curl my hands into fists to stop them from trembling. The room feels too small, the air too thick, and my heart beats frantically in my chest.
Dr. Kelly gives me a reassuring smile as she prepares the needed to draw blood, her movements smooth and practiced. “It’s just a quick check, don’t worry,” she says, her voice soft as she lifts up my gown and places the gel on my abdomen, the cold shock of it making me flinch.
I try to relax, but I clench my hands in my lap, fear of what this could mean bubbling under my skin. My career. The olympics. My mother’s damning stare. Christopher. Oh my fucking God, Christopher.
Dr. Kelly turns the machine on, and the soft hum fills the room as the screen flickers to life. I can barely focus on the image at first, my vision clouded with nerves, but then I catch a glimpse—a small, dark shape on the screen.
“That’s your uterus,” Dr. Kelly explains gently, moving the wand around to get a clearer picture. “I’m looking for anything unusual, any signs of inflammation, or infection.”
I try to follow her words, but my heart is pounding too loudly in my ears.
She pauses for a moment, her fingers gliding over the screen. I glance over at the monitor, but I don’t recognize what I’m seeing. It’s all blurry, and barely there, yet so there.
“There’s something here,” Dr. Kelly murmurs, her tone shifting slightly. She doesn’t sound alarmed, but there’s a note of something I can’t place. “It’s very early, but I think we might be looking at a pregnancy. Let me look at your blood work and urine test results.”
My breath catches in my throat. A thousand thoughts swirl in my mind, and my heart races at a speed I didn’t think was possible. My body freezes, the room spinning around me, the hum of the machine now deafening.
My mother doesn’t speak, doesn’t even move, but I feel her presence more than ever. My face is flushed with embarrassment, and panic, a need to run as fast as I can.
“Alright, Josie, so there are a couple of things…” the voice of the Doctor fades out, time seems to speed like it is running to a finish line.
My mother is responding to the doctor for me. The doctor is nodding, saying something about prenatal care, and options but all I can hear is my skates on the ice and Christopher’s voice booming across the rink, and it all feels so unattainable now .
The sound of the door slamming against the wall snaps me out of my daze, the sharp noise followed by a nurse’s voice, shouting at someone to stay back. I blink rapidly, trying to focus, and then I see him—Christopher, disheveled and frantic, his eyes wild with worry as he bursts into the room.
His gaze locks onto mine, and for a split second, I’m hit with the weight of how real everything is, but all I want to do is go back to three weeks ago when he whispered in my hair I love you until we fell asleep. His footsteps are quick as he crosses the room, his face pale with panic. “Josie,” he breathes, his voice a mixture of relief and concern. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
My mother clears her throat. “We’ll give you two a moment.”. She turns, her heels clicking as she walks out of the room, the doctor hot on her tail, and I’m left alone with Christopher.
His presence fills the space between us, his worry radiating off of him as he hovers near me. I feel like I’m drowning in his gaze, his deep-sea eyes searching mine for answers. I want to tell him everything. The word crawls up my throat. The fear gnawing at me. But I can’t say it. I won’t.
“I—” My voice catches, and I swallow, the lump in my throat refusing to go away. My hands curl into fists at my sides, the cold of the room seeping into my skin. “I’m fine,” I say, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. “Just... just hold me, please.”
He doesn’t hesitate, his arms wrapping around me in an instant. His warmth, his steadiness, is a comfort I didn’t realize I needed until this moment. His hand presses gently against the back of my head as he pulls me into his chest, his heart beating in a steady rhythm against my ear. I close my eyes, nuzzling in his chest. I don’t want him to see the truth in my eyes. I don’t want him to know what I’m really feeling. So, I bury my face deeper into his chest, letting his scent of smoke and cedar wood, his touch, be the only thing that matters for now enveloping me.
“I’m here,” he whispers into my hair, his voice low and steady, a promise that only makes me want to cry.