Chapter 14
HANNAH
My hand shakes a little as I tap to pay at the pharmacy.
The woman behind the counter has a very uninterested expression on her face, though she's not paid to care what folks purchase as long as their cards aren't declined.
But I'm nervous as hell and sick to my stomach as I pick up the plastic sack with the pregnancy test in it and tuck it into my purse in case someone sees me when I walk out.
"Have a nice day," she says, handing me my receipt.
I force a smile and shove it in my pocket as I turn toward the door and walk out. A twenty-five-minute drive all the way to Coquille just to buy a pregnancy test and I still look over my shoulder to make sure no one I know is around here to see me feeling ashamed of myself.
When my second period since having sex with Luke didn't arrive, I had to stop trying to convince myself it's just stress.
One missed or late period, yes. But now that things are moving along the right direction with the repairs and the festival, I'm not under that much stress.
This is normal life for me, and still no cycle.
It's unnerving, but I get in my car and head back home down the narrow stretch of winding highway. I crank the music up all the way and put the windows down as a means to distract myself, but that doesn’t seem to help much.
My entire life and all my goals for my business and my future could all shift hard thanks to one moment of intense chemistry and poor judgment.
The results of that little plastic test will seal my fate, though I know that happened almost two months ago now.
I can't believe this is happening. Deep down, I already know what that test is going to say when I take it.
I've been nauseous and crabby, more tired than ever, and talk about emotional.
When Mom invited me to brunch and said they were serving eggs instead of waffles, I had to excuse myself from the phone conversation to avoid crying in front of her—over waffles.
I'm not like this. The emotional swings just aren't me.
But my stubborn sense of pride won't allow me to break down and admit I could be having Luke's baby because it betrays everything I've felt for over a decade.
I turn into town and head toward my street, but flashes of the day I found out Nick had died pummel my thoughts.
He was so young and had so much promise.
I remember being awakened out of a dead sleep early in the morning when the sun was just up to my mother's scream.
It was awful. To this day, I sleep with a fan on because the silence at night is haunting.
The fear of hearing someone crying at night is traumatic.
Rushing out to see Deputy Henrys with his hat in his hand as my mother sat on the floor sobbing and my father crouched beside her with his whole body shaking—I just can't forget how painful it was.
And then the months of investigation and trial, where day after day we sat in a courtroom and listened to lawyers bickering about whether Luke had been neglectful.
I park in my driveway and sigh, feeling thankful for once that Luke isn't in a prison somewhere.
If Frank had died and Luke was locked up for what happened, Dorsey would've swooped in and bought that land.
And what Luke said a few weeks ago is right.
Dorsey would sell out so fast. The only reason Bandon is the same coastal small town it's always been is because men like Frank Maddox refuse to sell out.
But that gratitude does nothing to calm the raging storm of grief, even twelve years later.
My car ticks as it cools and I climb out, locking up before heading toward my front door. I'm so confused and overwhelmed by my own emotions.
As I let myself in and head for the bathroom, I chastise myself for how foolish it was to kiss him that day.
I was so angry, and he was so close to me.
And honestly, he was trying to be a kind soul and I was just mad over something that happened years ago.
But he's so good-looking, and the need to unleash my temper got to me.
I couldn't stop seeing those full, chapped lips or thinking about the solid wall of muscle I knew was under his shirt, and I was an idiot.
I rip the packaging open and toss it in the trash.
I've seen ads for these things on TV enough to know how to use them, but I guess I never realized how clumsy I am.
The test deflects the flow of urine and sprays up on my hand, making me grumble, but the job is done.
I wash up and flush, then stand over the test like a raving lunatic knowing I can't take my eyes off it for a single second.
And I don't have to wait long.
It says three full minutes, but in under twenty seconds a faint pink line forms that only darkens, just like my mood, the longer I stand there.
My chest sinks, my breathing grows shallow, and the heavy realization that Luke Maddox's baby is growing inside me causes every single emotion I have to knot up and fray.
There is absolutely no mistaking the positive test result.
And there's no denying it's Luke’s, considering I've not slept with anyone else in more than a year.
With the only date of possible conception being February third, that makes me seven and a half weeks along.
And that means by the time the festival is here, I'll be starting to show.
"Fuck," I hiss, sinking onto the edge of the bathtub.
What have I done? It's not that I don't want to be a mother—honestly, I do more than anything.
I dreamed of having a whole gaggle of kids and a husband who dotes on me.
I just never thought it would happen like this.
Luke Maddox is not the man I intend to marry, which means any future relationship is complicated by a child now.
I touch my stomach and press my eyes closed, forcing away the panic that wants to consume me.
Luke is going to freak the fuck out. He didn’t come home from the military to run his father's businesses.
He came for a funeral and got stuck here.
The last thing he wants is a child he's going to have to pay child support on.
But I don't care to give it up or abort.
I'm not the sort of person to walk away from the consequences of my choices, no matter how challenging they may be.
I watched Luke run off to the military after what happened and somehow, this feels the same.
Just pretending I don't have to live with the choices I make somehow seems hypocritical. I won't do that.
But I won't tell him, either.
At least not right away. I have to figure out what this means for me and how it's going to affect my life, my business, and this festival before I'm forced to deal with his emotional reaction.
He probably doesn't want anything to do with me, anyway. Yeah, he wants me to call him Luke, and not Mr. Maddox, but I knew how awkward that felt when I said it. We are on a first-name basis, but that doesn’t mean we're anywhere close to co-parenting a child.
I throw the test away and shake myself loose.
This is the result I knew would happen, and I won't let it affect me so much that I can't do my job.
With a party this evening, I can't afford to sit around moping, so I clean up and head to the marina for pre-launch preparations.
But on the way to The Mariah, Luke intercepts me, popping out of his office with a smile and a cold beer in hand.
"Afternoon," he says, nodding at me like we're old friends. I bite down on my grumpy response and tip my head, hoping he'll just let me pass by.
But he steps out and says, "I was hoping to catch you… Want to come in and have a beer? I have a few things to go over with you."
With the news I just got, I have no interest in speaking with him anywhere, let alone privately in his office, but he's my landlord and he's the man whose property we will use for the festival. I can't just ignore him and be rude.
"Sure," I say quietly, hoping he doesn't see the undercurrent of anxious nausea I'm feeling.
Luke steps back, opening his door for me to pass, and then comes in after me, closing us into the tiny space.
He has a map spread on his desk with large swaths of it slashed through with red marker, and a big green X on the shoreline close to the piers.
I walk closer to examine it further and assume this is his way of trying to cooperate with the festival plans.
"What's this?" I ask, feigning ignorance, though I can clearly see he's crossed off the property to the north, closer to his house.
"So this," he says, standing way closer than he needs to.
His cologne invades my nostrils against my will, and so does the musk of his natural body odor.
He doesn't smell bad at all, but I can tell he's been working and it's arousing being this close to him.
It makes it hard to focus as he says, "This is a map I drew up for us. "
God, and he says "us" as if we're doing this together. It makes my cheeks burn as I grit my teeth. He's so handsome and so fucking close to me.
"The red parts are the parts of the property that either aren't safe for people or that I don't really want them to be in.
You see over here" —he leans in, pointing at the natural rock shelf to the south where Nick and I used to fish when we were younger— "is dangerous.
And this…" He points at the homestead as I look up into his eyes and see he's not looking at the map at all.
His gaze is locked on my face. "Is the house, so I'm not really wanting festival attendees up there. "
I nod, pressing my lips together to avoid licking them or biting them. Then I force a smile I'm sure he can see right through. I'm carrying this man's baby. A little mini-Luke, probably with his eyes and maybe that dimple in his chin. And if it's a little boy, he's gonna be just like his dad.
"You okay?" he asks, reaching up to touch my cheek. When his thumb swipes over my cheekbone, I feel the moisture and realize I'm crying.
My fucking God, I'm so emotional.
"Uh," I say, reaching up to touch my face, "yeah… I just thought of fishing with Nick down the shore."
Luke smiles but he doesn't pull his hand away from my face. He keeps it there protectively as he smiles softly. "Yeah, he really loved fishing, didn't he?"
My heart thumps against my ribs and I feel myself leaning into his palm, wanting to feel his fingers trace my cheek again.
And then I realize if I don't walk out of this office right now, I’m going to kiss him.
And if I kiss him, I will break down and want to have sex again.
And after that the news of my pregnancy will erupt from me like Mount Vesuvius, and then my life is over.
"I, uh… I have to go," I say, backing away hastily. "Please send me a copy of your map, alright? I'll send it to Calvin." I keep walking backward as I watch anger flash through Luke's eyes at the mention of Calvin Dorsey's name.
I'm an idiot in so many ways. One of them is mentioning that name around Luke when he's already told me his distaste for the man. Another is for letting myself get so close to him. It was just sex, Hannah, nothing more.
"You don't have to rush off. You didn't even have a beer…" Luke is still speaking when I dart out the door and up the pier toward my boat.
I need to let Mr. Dorsey handle the rest of the plans if I'm going to survive the next few months before the festival. And if I want this to go off without a hitch—or any of the drama I fear might explode around the announcement of this baby—I need to keep my distance from Luke.
Otherwise, I'll have to add that on top of the repairs, running my business, planning my festival, and trying to save the economy of this small town.
Wow, I could use a drink.