23. Rowan #2
"Did you send schedules, screenshots, or information about where Erik and I would be?" I lean closer, looking for any deceit in her expression.
"No." She seems to be telling the truth.
Harper studies her. "Did anybody ask?"
Vanessa hesitates long enough to make me pay closer attention. "A student reporter asked whether I knew how often Rowan was meeting privately with Erik. I told her to ask Rowan."
"That's it?"
"Yes." Vanessa looks at me. "I wanted the program back. I wanted your captaincy if the scandal got bad enough. I didn't want anybody dead."
There isn't much apology in it. That makes me believe her more.
Vanessa has always wanted things in ways I understand. Recognition. The captaincy. A better position on the team. She resented me long before Orell entered our lives, and she resented me more after Erik did. Petty motives don't make her harmless, but they fit the woman standing in front of me.
Orell doesn't.
"What happens now?" Vanessa asks.
"Student conduct decides that." I adjust my bag again. "Erik is recused."
"I know."
"You sound disappointed."
"I'm not." She looks toward the administration building again. "I expected him to destroy me."
"That would make your favoritism argument much easier."
Vanessa almost smiles, then thinks better of it. "You really are annoying."
"I've heard that."
Harper steps around me. "Repeatedly."
Vanessa leaves before I can respond. She crosses the quad toward the communications building without looking back, and I watch until the crowd absorbs her.
Harper starts toward the parking lot. "Do you believe her?"
"Yes."
"Me too."
That should make the suspect list easier. Instead, we've removed another person who had motive, access, and a secret worth hiding without getting any closer to the person feeding Orell.
I follow Harper to her car.
Serena's office smells like the citrus cleaner they use between patients, and the exam room is warmer than the hallway.
Harper takes the chair beside the ultrasound machine while I change behind the curtain.
My clothes end up folded on top of my bag, directly above the sealed envelope I still haven't opened.
I leave it there.
Serena comes in carrying my chart and rolls her stool toward the machine. "Any bleeding, cramping, or new pain?"
"No."
"Nausea?"
"Still rude." My stomach churns again as if on cue.
"That's medically specific." Serena opens the chart. "Any dizziness?"
"Only when I stand too fast."
She looks at me over the folder. "You're eating?"
"Constantly."
Harper speaks from the chair. "She ate half my lunch."
I hold up a hand. "I was preventing food waste."
"You ordered your own."
I shrug. "It wasn't enough, and you eat too slowly."
Serena smiles while she sets the chart aside. "That's one problem I'm happy to hear."
I lie back, pull my shirt up, and wait while she gets the equipment ready. The gel is cold enough to make me flinch when it touches my stomach.
Harper looks offended on my behalf. "You people have heated blankets but not heated gel?"
"We have heated gel." Serena moves the wand into position. "Rowan complains more when I use it."
"I do not."
"You told me it was unsettling."
I can't argue with that. "It is. Feels wrong."
Harper looks between us. "I'm starting to understand why you two get along."
The monitor fills with gray shapes before Serena adjusts the angle. I've seen this once already. It still takes several seconds before my brain turns shadows into babies.
Serena points to the first image. "Baby A is measuring right where I want."
I stop thinking about Vanessa.
She moves to the second. The room narrows to the monitor and Serena's calm explanations while she checks each measurement.
"Baby B is also on track."
Harper gets out of the chair and comes closer without blocking Serena. I look at her once before Serena finds the third.
"Baby C is cooperating today." Serena records the measurement, then shifts the wand until the heartbeat fills the room.
Three separate heartbeats shouldn't still surprise me, but they do.
Harper sits on the edge of the empty chair beside the machine. She doesn't make a joke this time.
Serena finishes the measurements, checks each fetus again, and puts the wand aside. "All three are developing appropriately for gestational age. I don't see anything today that concerns me."
I lie there for another second before reaching for the towel.
"All three?"
"All three."
Harper leans back. "I'm going to need you to say that at every appointment."
Serena hands me another towel. "I expect I will."
I clean the gel from my stomach and pull my shirt down before sitting up. Serena returns to the counter, where another sealed envelope waits beside my chart.
I look at it, then at my bag.
"I had the lab print another copy in case you still haven't opened the first one." Serena picks up the envelope. "This is the same result. Y-chromosome material detected or not detected. It still won't tell you which baby or how many if it's present, but I thought you might need another copy."
"I remember."
She offers it to me. "Do you want this one?"
"No. One unopened envelope is enough."
Harper watches me put my shoes back on.
Serena returns the second envelope to the chart. "You said you wanted Erik with you when you opened it."
"I do."
"Does he know that?"
I stop tying my shoe.
Harper looks toward the wall instead of rescuing me.
"No."
Serena rolls her stool back enough to give me room. "Does he know about the pregnancy?"
"No."
She waits while I finish the shoe and sit upright.
I expect advice. Doctors are good at advice, and everyone in my life has developed an opinion about Erik whether I requested one or not.
Serena gives me a question instead. "Are you waiting because you're protecting the moment, or because you're protecting yourself from his answer?"
I look at her.
Harper doesn't move beside me.
I've spent two years learning how to answer questions under pressure. Professors change facts halfway through hypotheticals. Mock-trial judges interrupt arguments. Evelyn can dismantle a position in three sentences and make me rebuild it before class ends.
I can't answer Serena, but she doesn't ask again.
Harper picks up my bag when we leave, since I'm still thinking about the question and walk past it the first time. She waits until we reach the parking garage before giving it back.
"You don't have to answer me either."
"I know."
"That doesn't mean you shouldn't answer yourself."
I unlock the car. "You've spent too much time with Evelyn."
"Probably."
I put my bag behind the passenger seat, where the envelope stays hidden beneath a folder and two notebooks.
Erik is already in bed when I finish reading after midnight. He has one of Dad's ledger pages beside him, along with the legal pad he uses when he wants to pretend his handwriting qualifies as communication. His reading glasses sit lower than usual, and he has stopped writing.
I take the page from his hand before it creases.
He doesn't wake.
The ledger entry is one we've already reviewed twice. Dad's notation beside the sports-medicine transfer is brief enough that I could recite it from memory. I put the page on the nightstand, close Erik's legal pad, and switch off the lamp.
In the dark, Serena's question comes back.
I know Erik loves me. I've watched what he's willing to change, and I know he chose me when choosing me put him in front of a bullet.
I also know I haven't asked him the question that matters because I'm afraid of the answer. That doesn't excuse my non-disclosure.
For weeks, I've been furious whenever Erik decided what I could handle before giving me the choice. I lie beside him and understand I'm doing the same thing now.