He acts like we’re not the same age.
However, the petrified look on his face has my heart in my throat. “Relax. I take my birth control every day.”
“When was the last time you had your period?”
“A few days before the wedding.”
Although it was so light it barely qualified as one. Not that I’m complaining.
He looks like he’s trying to add things in his head, but I stop him.
“I’m not pregnant. We had sex the weekend of the wedding.”
The look on his face tells me he has no idea what that means so I clarify.
“We’ve only been having sex for three weeks. If by some crazy chance I was pregnant, we wouldn’t even know yet.”
He looks relieved…until I see the wheels spinning in his head.
“I did that thing.” He gives me a look. “You know what I'm talking about.”
If by thing he means the night he snuck through my bedroom window and stuck his cum in my pussy with his fingers. Then yes, I know what thing. But that was a while ago.
“We’re fine.”
I, however, am not. Another wave of nausea hits me, worse than before. “Do you have any ginger ale downstairs?”
He looks between me and the door of his bedroom, almost like he’s debating making a run for it.
What the actual fuck.
“Are you serious right now?”
“I love you,” he repeats. “But I’m not ready to be a dad. Christ. We haven’t even graduated from high school yet. I know you probably don’t believe in abort—”
That does it. There is no need to talk about this because there is no baby.
“Would you shut up? I’m not pregnant.” I get off the bed, intending to leave. “But it’s nice to know if I was, you wouldn’t respect my choices.”
His eyes widen. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I think you should take a test. Just to be sure.”
“Fine. I will get one on my way home. Without you around.”
He looks like he wants to argue, but I don’t give him the chance.
I throw my sweatshirt over my head, slip my sneakers on, then grab my purse and overnight bag.
He tugs on my arm. “Sawyer.”
“What—”
He kisses me so gently…like I’m made out of glass.
“Whatever happens, I’m in this.”
“I know my body, Cole. I’m not pregnant. But, since you don’t believe me, I’ll take a damn test.”
Hell, I’ll take as many as I can afford to prove him wrong.
“I don’t want to fight with you. You’ve just been so moody the past two weeks—”
“Have a good day.” I push him away. “Me and my moody ass are leaving.”
“Sawyer,” he calls out when I reach the door.
“What?”
“I love you.”
My heart skips a beat. “I love you, too.”
I take a picture of the three different pregnancy tests laid out on a bathroom sink.
Not my bathroom sink. The one in the pharmacy bathroom.
Cole had me so riled up, I decided to stop on my way home to prove him wrong.
Just as I suspected, they’re all negative.
I quickly press send.
He replies almost instantly.
Cole: Thank fuck.
Sawyer: Yup.
Cole: Are you upset?
Yes, I am.
Sawyer: That you didn’t believe me? Yes. That I’m not pregnant? No.
Like he said before, we’re only eighteen. We have our whole lives ahead of us to have babies.
Cole: I won’t apologize for being worried and wanting to make sure we’re in the clear. There are two of us in this relationship, you know.
Well, when he puts it like that. It makes me feel like an asshole.
Sawyer: Sorry for freaking out on you.
Cole: Love you.
Sawyer: Love you, too. Call you later.
I can hear my parents arguing the second I open the door to my house.
I’m supposed to meet Loki soon, but I really need to get this nausea under control first.
I’m so lightheaded as I enter the living room, I’m tempted to plop down on the couch.
“Dylan stopped by,” my mother tells me as I walk past them. “She asked us to ask you to call her back since you’ve been ignoring her phone calls.”
I will. I just need to stop the room from spinning first.
“She’s your best friend, Sawyer. What’s going on between you two?” Daddy questions.
“Nothing,” I answer, my voice barely a whisper.
“Are you all right?” Mama asks. “You don’t look so good.”
And we’re back to square one. Here I thought I was doing such a good job and she was proud of me.
I swallow hard, hoping it will bring the nausea and acid climbing up my throat back down. “I think I’m coming down with something.”
I honest to God feel like I just got run over by a Mack truck.
I must have the flu.
“Well, go on upstairs and get into bed,” Daddy says. “We’ll be up there to check on you in a bit.”
Not a bad idea. “Okay.”
The second I walk out of the living room they start arguing again.
“See what you’ve done!” Daddy booms. “She’s running her body ragged trying to be skinny.”
“She’s healthy now, Dan. Quit telling me how to be a mother. Besides, you’re one to talk. The two of you haven’t spoken in weeks.”
Great. They’re fighting about me.
Of course they are.
My heart beats erratically as I jog up the stairs. I’m so out of it I have to pause mid-way because I’m running out of breath.
Like I just ran a marathon.
The pain in my chest gets worse as I make my way to the bathroom and open the medicine cabinet.
My phone buzzes with an incoming text.
Loki: Here. Where are you?
Shit. I thought I had more time. I’ll have to reschedule.
Jesus, do you even hear yourself? Rescheduling with a drug dealer.
This isn’t you.
Glancing up, I look in the mirror. I hardly even recognize myself.
Maybe they’re right. Maybe I should stop.
Lately it feels like no matter how much weight I lose, it will never be enough and that is a very scary feeling.
I might look better these days, but I definitely don’t feel it…especially right now.
Bracing myself on the bathroom sink, I hit the reply button to tell Loki I won’t make it, but my heart squeezes so severely it feels like there’s a fist wrapped around it.
“Jolene, I swear to God—”
That’s the last thing I hear before the pain becomes unbearable…
And everything goes dark.
Chapter 89
Cole
I fill my lungs with air as I tuck my phone in my pocket.
Not pregnant.
When I told Sawyer I wanted her to have my babies, I meant it.