Chapter 23 #3
Anna's brow furrowed, concern deepening in her eyes. “Harper, you haven't been feeling like eating breakfast in weeks. Are you alright? I know the stress of everything must be wearing you down, but you need to eat. You're losing weight.”
She wasn't wrong. My jeans hung loose on my hips now despite the belt I'd tightened two notches, my face was gaunt in the mirror when I could bring myself to look at it, my ribs were starting to show through my shirts.
But every time I thought about food, nausea rose in my throat like a physical barrier.
“I'm fine,” I said automatically, the lie I'd been telling everyone for weeks. “Just every time I think about eating, I get nauseous. The stress, like you said. It'll pass.”
Anna was quiet for a long moment. Too quiet, in that way that meant she was thinking something she wasn't sure how to say. When I finally looked at her, her expression had shifted from concern to something else that looked almost like realization, like pieces clicking into place.
“Harper,” she said my name carefully, slowly, like she was approaching a wild animal that might bolt. “Could you be…?”
She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to. The implication hung in the air between us like a bomb waiting to detonate, and my mind went completely blank.
Pregnant.
Could I be pregnant?
My hands moved automatically to my stomach, pressing against the flat plane beneath Connor's t-shirt that I was wearing. When was my last period? I tried to remember, tried to count back through the haze of the past few months, through trauma and fear and days that blurred together.
The apartment fire had been February 22nd. I'd had my period right before that. I remembered being grateful it wasn't during the fire, that I didn't have to deal with that particular misery on top of everything else.
Then…nothing. No period in March. But I'd been stressed, traumatized, barely eating or sleeping. Stress could delay periods. I'd read that somewhere, or maybe someone had told me, or maybe I was just making it up to make myself feel better.
No period in April either. But by then I'd been sleeping Connor, dealing with threats, fear, and constant anxiety. Still stressed. Still not eating properly. Still waking up screaming from nightmares. Still not normal.
It was mid May now.
Oh my God.
“I—” My voice came out strangled, my throat closing up around the words. “I don't know. I hadn't even thought about—” The words caught in my throat like glass shards. “Anna, I can't be pregnant. Not now. Not with everything that's happening. Not when I can barely take care of myself.”
“Hey, breathe.” Anna's hands found mine, squeezing tight enough to hurt. “Just breathe. We don't know anything yet. It could be stress. There could be a dozen other things. But Harper, when was your last period?”
“February.” The word was barely a whisper, my voice breaking on it. “Right before the apartment fire.”
“That was almost three months ago.”
“I know, but with the stress—”
“Stress can delay a period by a few weeks, maybe a month at most.” Anna's voice was gentle but firm, the voice of someone who'd clearly thought about this possibility before I had.
“Not three months, Harper. Not unless something else is going on. Have you had any other symptoms? Nausea, fatigue, breast tenderness, mood swings, food aversions?”
I thought about it. Really thought about it, mentally cataloging things I'd been ignoring or attributing to other causes.
The nausea I'd attributed to anxiety, to fear, to the constant knot in my stomach.
The exhaustion I figured was trauma and stress and nightmares that wouldn't let me sleep.
The mood swings, obviously from fear and grief and watching my life fall apart.
Breast tenderness? I hadn't even noticed until she mentioned it, but now that I was thinking about it, yeah, they'd been sore.
The food aversions I'd thought was just stress killing my appetite.
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
“I need to take a test.” The words burst out of me, panic making my voice high and thin and desperate. “Anna, I need to know. Right now. I can't—I can't just sit here wondering. I can't spend the next however long not knowing if I'm pregnant in the middle of this nightmare.”
“Okay.” Anna was already standing, already pulling out her phone with the efficiency of someone who'd thought this through.
“Okay, we can do that. I actually—” She paused, a slight flush coloring her cheeks.
“I actually have tests at my place. Jaxon and I had a scare a few weeks ago. False alarm, turned out I was just late from wedding stress, but I bought a three-pack and only used one.”
Relief and terror warred in my chest, fighting for dominance.
Relief that I didn't have to go to a store, didn't have to face the town or risk running into someone who might ask questions or see what I was buying.
Terror because this was becoming real, because taking a test meant getting an answer I wasn't sure I was ready for.
“Can we go now?” I asked, already standing on shaky legs that didn't feel entirely connected to my body. “Before the guys come back inside?”
Understanding crossed Anna's face. “You don't want Connor to know yet.”
“I don't want him to know until I know.” The words came out in a rush, desperate and pleading.
“If I'm not pregnant, there's no point in worrying him about nothing. And if I am—” My voice broke completely, tears burning behind my eyes.
“If I am, I need time to process before I tell him.
Anna, please. I can't handle his reaction on top of my own right now. I can't be strong for both of us.”
“Of course.” Anna grabbed her purse, then paused at the doorway to call out toward the porch. “Jaxon! Harper and I are going back to our place for a bit. Girl talk. We'll be back in a couple hours!”
Jaxon's voice carried from the porch, muffled through the walls. “Okay! Drive safe!”
Then we were out the door, hurrying to Anna's sedan before anyone could ask questions or see my face and realize something was wrong. My heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my throat, in my temples, in my fingertips where they gripped the passenger door handle hard enough to leave marks.
Please let it just be stress and fear and trauma messing with my body.
Please don't let me be pregnant.