Evan stood in the middle of the room, hands on his hips, staring at her like he’d seen a ghost. “What was that?”
“I’m. Not. Sure,” she mumbled, wandering back toward the couch. “My stomach’s been off lately.”
“Did you… are you…” Evan stood in the kitchen, sniffing the sandwich and then looking her up and down. “Are youpregnant?” he asked.
Throat clenching shut, she coughed and shook her head. “Of course not, I’ve just been going through some stomach issues lately. I think my IBS is flaring or something. Ialwaysuse condoms.” Hands parking on her hips, she stalled in front of the couch and tilted a suspicious scowl at the windows.
“Are you late?”
“No, I mean, my last period was… just… I’ve never been an every twenty-eight days sort of gal…” Shit.
“I thought you and Raphe were taking things slower this time around…”
“We are,” she squeaked. “We haven’t…”
Evan’s lips formed a dramatically pensive O-shape, and her brother stuttered a response. “Not… you mean…”
Life leached from her cheeks. She braced her fingertips over her mouth in a useless attempt to stop the thoughts from solidifying into something real. “But we used a…”
“Ryder…?” Evan asked, standing like a statue, his skin quickly paling and probably a good reflection of hers.
A full pout pushed out her bottom lip, and she dropped her lead-filled arms to her sides and nodded solemnly. “Ryder.”
Cheeks puffing out, Evan growled under his breath. “Ryder doesn’t even live in town. He’s not exactly going to—”
“We used a damn condom,” she roared as heat flushed into her cheeks and she stomped her foot, tensing instead of throwing something at him. “You thought I should call him, now suddenly he’s—”
“Sorry,” he said, shoulders easing to a calm posture, and he took a step backward toward the front door. “I didn’t mean to freak out. I…” He grabbed his keys and wallet from the basket on the narrow entry table. “I’ll be right back. Just… don’t freak out yet. It could be pneumonia.” Evan slipped out the door with measured caution, as if afraid of startling her. As soon as the door closed, he took off and jumped into his Jeep and flew down the driveway, as if she was infected with some awful plague. Where the hell was he going? Ditching her in the middle of a pretty fricking critical moment?
Dragging herself to the kitchen, she held her nose and closed the bag with the sandwich and stuffed it into the refrigerator. She poured a massive glass of ice water and munched a piece of dry toast. Brain numb, she wiped down the clean countertops and unloaded the dishwasher. By the time she finished re-folding the living room blankets, Evan sped back up the driveway, a dust storm following close behind.
The front door flew open and he smacked a pregnancy test into her palm.
No words needed, she nodded weakly and went back to the bathroom. She had to pee again already anyway. Shit. She didn’t need a test to tell her what she already knew. That Ryder Mallory was more than a brief indulgence.
Leaving the soiled stick of fate on the bathroom counter, she turned away and walked into the kitchen to set the timer.
The clock dragged. And dragged. And ticked its daunting rhythm while she waited. She wasn’t checking it a second early, not staring at it while it a blue line threatened to slash through her future… or not.Please be the latter.
“You owe me, you know. Bigtime.” Evan sat at the table with her, his knee vibrating just as fast, but he quirked a smile in his attempt to distract her with humor.
“What? Kinda busy freaking out right now.”
“Do you know how much it costs to buy a pregnancy test in this town?” He leaned back in the dining chair across from her, one side of his mouth lifting to taunt her.
She snorted and shook her head. “I’ll pay you back later.”
“It’s not the cash I’m worried about. Freya Harris and her mom were there. I was seen buying a pregnancy test by Tammy Marks. I said it was for a friend. She congratulated me anyway. At which point Freya and I shared a quick laugh, and she quietly explained to her mother how babies are made.”
Nearly finding a smile, Zoe chewed her cheek and said, “I don’t know, I’d rather you be at the heart of the gossip mills than me. It’s your turn.”
“How is it my turn?”
“I tripped and spilled cake on myself at that stupid wedding I went to with Raphe.”
“Ouch. I heard about that—what is it with you and dresses? First the broken strap at Finn’s, then you spill on yourself?”
“And this is why I live in leggings and hoodies. Nice clothes hate me.”
