Page 37 of Eco-Activist’s Mountain Men (Mountain Men Reverse Harem #4)

"Oh. Okay." But will they have pregnancy test kits? Maybe… maybe not. Only one way to find out, because otherwise I'll have to make do with the vinegar test from YouTube, and I have zero faith in that. "What about clothes?"

"General store." Toby grins.

"Oh shit. You're kidding me?"

"Nope. This ain't New York, babe."

"New York? This ain't even Tombstone."

"Oh yeah, Tombstone, Arizona, is a bustling metropolis compared with Martha, Oregon. It's fine for cattle feed, potatoes, and shotgun shells… oh, and a haircut in any style you like, so long as it's a number three all over. Anything else and… well, you might be outa luck, honey."

"No almond milk or avocados, then?"

Toby's grin widens; no need to add words. My shoulders droop, and I let out a sigh. Forget one-horse… this place ain't worth half a horse.

"Alright, well, it is what it is. Let's try the general store and see what they've got. Where is it?"

Toby laughs. "You're looking at it."

"What… this?"

"Yup."

It's a nondescript building fronting onto the high street, with no store name painted on it and no produce in the window.

We push open the door, which creaks loudly as it reluctantly lets us in.

Once inside, my spirits rise a little, though admittedly that's not saying much, as they're already at rock bottom.

It's bigger inside than it looked from the street, with multiple aisles extending back quite a distance, and a counter at back with more shelves behind it.

Presumably, that's all stuff you have to ask for.

"Where will I find clothes?" I whisper to Toby.

"Try down there. There's usually a whole bunch of men's and women's clothing in that direction." He points to one of the aisles toward the right-hand side of the store.

"Okay, why don't you see if you can get us some fresh food, and I'll check out the clothes and the pharmacy, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." Toby saunters off towards a display of vegetables that I grudgingly have to admit look quite fresh and appetizing.

Meantime, I scoot down the aisle Toby had pointed out to me as fast as I can.

The sooner I'm done, the sooner I know. The sooner I know, the sooner I can start rehearsing what the hell I'll say to the boys.

Thankfully, the clothes are all easily accessible, well arranged, and adequately signed.

I pick up a six-pack of panties —six whole pairs, it's going to feel like heaven—then think "fuck it" and pick up a second pack.

I find a few other things—bras, vests, a couple of pairs of jeans that will fit me, and some check shirts, one green, one red, one blue.

If I'm going to be a god-damned forester, I may as well look the part.

I grab a fluffy, white toweling bathrobe and a pair of cheap toweling slippers whilst I'm at it.

I struggle with my haul to the counter at the back of the store and dump it all down.

The storekeeper is an older man of perhaps sixty-two or three, tall and slim, wearing an old-fashioned brown apron over a brushed cotton shirt, and sitting on a wooden stool by an ancient cash register.

He looks like he could do with a shave and maybe a good wash, but what the hell, who cares? Obviously, he doesn't.

"How do, missy?" He gives me a smile, revealing several missing teeth.

Jesus Christ… all we need now is for a guy on a veranda to bring out a banjo and a couple of squealing pigs to run past and we'll be slap bang in the middle of a scene from Deliverance.

"Hi yourself." I smile back. "I want this lot, and I need some pharmacy stuff. Where do I go for that?"

"Well now, young lady, let me see." Ponderously, he gets to his feet, whilst I do my best not to either scream or just go right ahead and murder him.

Could he move any slower if he tried? Jesus.

Can't he see I'm in a hurry? Every second he spends reminiscing is another second for my mind to conjure the look on Jack's or Luke's, or Eric's face when I tell them they might have just become a daddy.

"Sure is a nice day outside. 'Course, the nights are rolling in faster now. Dark before eight."

"Yeah, right. About the pharmacy stuff?"

"You come a long way, miss? Haven't had no visitors since the roads all closed. Why, you must be our first visitor this whole month. Ain't that something? Mind you, that storm sure was a whoopdinger of a blowout, wasn't she? We had a whole bunch 'a trees down, same as other folks. How about you?"

"What? Oh… yes, yes, we had loads of trees down. We kinda cut our way through to you today. About that pharmacy stuff?"

"Yes, miss, hailstones as big as golf balls, there were.

Did you see 'em? Broke our greenhouse windows, they did.

Now… what was that? Pharmacy? Well, we keep the medicines behind the counter, you just need to ask, and all the personal items like toothbrushes and shampoo are down this aisle here. Want me to show you, my dear?"

"What? No, no, that's fine. Just point me in the right direction. Okay, I got it, thank you, sir."

I scuttle away as quickly as I can, before he launches into another anecdote about the storm.

Knowing my luck, I'll be stuck for the next thirty minutes, listening to how the storms in his youth were twice as bad as this one had been.

Normally, I'd stop and smile and nod and give him some attention, but right now I really need that pregnancy kit.

The thought of walking back to Toby empty-handed makes my stomach clench harder than the ride here ever did.

I reach the area of the store he'd indicated, and rapidly scan the shelves.

Loads of stuff I don't want—hair grips, eye shadow, makeup remover, lipsticks, sun cream, sticking plasters, mouthwash…

Ah, finally, they have one. In fact, they have two to choose from—Clearblue and First Response.

I grab one of each, then throw a toothbrush, hairbrush, shampoo, and conditioner for dyed hair, and a couple of skin products into the basket I'd picked up at the back counter.

Good, that should hide my purchase, and it's all stuff I need.

I'm halfway back to the till when I realize I've not bought any tampons.

Damn, that was my cover story. Back I go.

I grab a couple of boxes of Lil-lets regular tampons and head back up the aisle as quickly as I can.

I'd rather Toby isn't there to watch the items being scanned and bagged, if I can avoid it.

Thankfully, I spy him at the other end of the store, engaged in conversation with some other guy that it seems he knows.

Good. That'll keep him occupied. I don't think I've ever felt so guilty or so stressed when purchasing stuff before.

I almost laugh out loud. It's only a pregnancy test kit for fuck's sake.

But still, I am glad he's occupied with his friend.

I slow down, out of breath. Part One of the plan is pretty much accomplished.

Part Two will be when I get home and take the tests.

Back at the lodge, I dump my newly-purchased clothes in my bedroom and lock myself in the bathroom. I set the Clearblue box on the counter like it might explode. This is it—I'm about to find out whether or not I'm a mommy.

My hands are clammy, my mouth dry, but I force myself to open the box, read the instructions—twice, to make certain—and follow them to the letter.

I set the stick on the edge of the sink and set the timer on my phone, telling myself it's probably nothing.

Just a headache and a late period caused by stress.

After what feels like an eternity but is actually only thirty seconds, nothing is shown in the window.

Good. A minute is reached. A minute thirty.

Two minutes—I must be in the clear. Then, at the two minutes and thirty seconds mark, and just as I am about to celebrate, a single word appears: Pregnant.

My knees go weak. This can't be happening.

I grab the First Response box, barely glancing at the instructions this time, and do it all over again.

The results come up more quickly this time.

A plus sign and the word "Yes". Same answer.

No room for doubt, no way to un-know it now.

What have I done?

Even if we'd all agreed on wanting a child, this would hardly be the moment.

Distractedly, I reach for my phone, vaguely wondering if I should call my mother. Tell her what's happened. But we just don't have that sort of relationship.

It's then that I notice the message signal flashing, and I recall that on the way home, my phone had pinged and sent its warning vibration through my hoodie to my chest. I hadn't been able to get it out to read whilst we're moving, then of course it had completely escaped my mind, what with everything else.

Idly, I view the text message. My hands go to my mouth. Oh no. This isn't good. This is not good at all . It's from Tim Collier.

You've ruined my life. Say your goodbyes. Tomorrow I will kill you.