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CHAPTER THREE

Everly

The pregnancy test box sits on my bathroom counter like a live grenade.

I've been staring at it for twenty minutes, unable to move, unable to breathe properly.

Three tests, because I couldn't buy just one.

I had to be sure, had to have backup in case I did it wrong, in case the first one lied, in case my shaking hands dropped one in the toilet.

The cashier at the drugstore didn't even look at me twice.

Just another woman buying pregnancy tests at ten in the morning, nothing unusual about that.

She didn't know I'd driven to a store three towns over so no one would recognize me.

Didn't know I'd paid cash so there'd be no credit card trail.

Didn't know my hands were shaking so badly I dropped change all over her counter.

"Just take it," I whisper to my reflection. "Just get it over with."

But knowing and confirming are two different things.

Right now, I can pretend.

Right now, there's still hope that I'm wrong, that the missed period and nausea and exhaustion are just stress.

Once I take that test, once I see those lines, everything changes.

My phone buzzes.

Vail again.

Everly, I'm really worried. You've never called in this many times. Please just let me know you're okay.

Guilt twists in my stomach.

Vail's been nothing but kind to me since I started at the station.

She and Gwen took me under their wings, made me feel like part of the team, and I'm repaying that by lying to them.

I'm okay, I text back. Just can't shake this bug.

Have you seen a doctor?

There's that question again.

The one everyone keeps asking.

The one that makes me want to laugh hysterically, because what would I say? "Yes, doctor, I think my abusive boyfriend sabotaged my birth control and now I might be carrying his baby, which he'll use to control me forever."

I lie:

I have an appointment.

A few seconds later, she replies:

Good. I'm going to stop by later with some soup. Gwen's orders.

Panic shoots through my gut:

You don't have to.

But I don’t get to say no. That’s the life of being in the club, people always want to take care of you.

Already decided. See you around 2.

I stare at the phone, then at the test.

Two o'clock.

That gives me four hours to take the test, have my breakdown, and pull myself together enough to fool Vail.

Except I can't seem to move.

The bruises from yesterday have bloomed into their full glory.

Purple fingerprints around my throat.

Dark marks on my hips, my wrists, my thighs.

The bite marks on my shoulders are the worst—deep enough that one broke skin.

Every movement hurts. Every breath reminds me of what he did.

What he's been doing to my birth control for God knows how long.

I pick up the test box with trembling fingers, read the instructions for the tenth time.

Pee on stick. Wait three minutes.

One line negative, two lines positive.

Simple. So fucking simple.

But those two lines would change everything.

My phone rings, startling me so badly I drop the box.

Unknown number.

My heart pounds as I debate answering.

What if it's Dylan from a different phone?

What if he knows I've blocked him?

What if?—

I let it go to voicemail.

A minute later, the notification pops up.

I listen with my finger hovering over the delete button.

"Everly, it's Luisa from MetStar Pharmacy. I'm calling about your birth control prescription. It looks like you haven’t gotten your last month's refill. I have it pending to pick up, but please call me back as soon as possible and let me know if you’re coming to get it."

Dylan always went to go get my refills, but he didn’t this time… how long has he been doing this?

The phone slips from my numb fingers.

I sink to the bathroom floor, back against the cold tile wall.

How long have I been taking fake pills thinking I was protected?

The sobs come hard and fast, shaking my entire body.

I press my face into my knees, trying to muffle the sound even though I'm alone.

Always trying to be quiet, even in my own apartment.

That's what he's done to me.

Made me small and quiet and afraid.

But there might be someone else to think about now. Someone innocent who didn't ask for any of this.

I force myself to stand, to pick up the test.

My hands shake as I follow the instructions, as I set the stick on the counter, as I set a timer for three minutes.

The longest three minutes of my life.

I can't stay in the bathroom, can't watch those lines appear.

Instead, I pace my small living room, arms wrapped around myself.

The photos on the walls mock me—pictures from before Dylan, when I still smiled without calculating the consequences.

Me with Gwen and Vail at my EMT graduation.

Me with Astrid at Christmas last year.

Me looking happy and free and whole.

The timer goes off.

I make myself walk back to the bathroom.

Make myself look.

Two lines are clear as day, dark as sin, as obvious as the bruises on my skin.

Positive.

I'm pregnant with Dylan's baby.

The room spins.

I grab the counter, knees buckling.

Pregnant. I’m actually pregnant.

There's a life growing inside me, a piece of him that I'll never be able to escape.

"No," I whisper, then louder, "No, no, no!"

I grab the second test, take it immediately.

Wait another three minutes that feel like three years.

Two lines.

The third test.

Maybe they're all defective. Maybe?—

Two lines.

I slide down the wall again, tests scattered around me like evidence of my destruction.

Pregnant. I'm pregnant.

The word echoes in my head, getting louder and louder until I want to scream.

He wins.

He fucking wins.

Even if I leave him now, even if I run, I'll always be connected to him.

He'll use this baby to control me forever.

Custody battles. Forced visitation. Eighteen years of him in my life, in my child's life.

My child.

The thought stops me cold.

This isn't just about me anymore.

There's an innocent life depending on me now.

A baby who didn't ask for a monster as a father, who deserves better than to be born into violence and control.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, hand moving to my still-flat stomach. "I'm so fucking sorry, little one. I tried to protect you. I tried..."

Time passes in a blur. I'm still on the bathroom floor when I hear a knock at my door.

Panic shoots through me until I check the time—2 PM.

It’s Vail.

I force myself up, splash cold water on my face, try to look less like my world just ended.

Hide the tests under the sink.

Check that my bruises are covered.

Paste on a smile that feels like broken glass.

"Coming!" I call, proud when my voice doesn't shake.

Vail stands at my door with a container of soup and a concerned expression.

She's still in her uniform, must have come straight from the station.

"You look terrible," she says bluntly, pushing past me into the apartment.

"Thanks. Really know how to make a girl feel special."

"I'm serious." She sets the soup on my counter, then turns to study me. "What's really going on, Everly? And don't say stomach bug. I've known you since you were a child. You've never missed this much work."

The lie is on my tongue, ready to spill out.

But looking at her concerned face, her genuine worry, something in me cracks.

"I..." The words stick in my throat. "I'm..."

"Oh honey." She moves closer, and I realize I'm crying. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I'm pregnant."

The words hang between us like a confession.

Vail's eyes widen, but she doesn't look shocked, more like pieces are clicking into place.

"Okay," she says carefully. "Okay. Let's sit down."

She guides me to the couch, sits beside me, takes my hands in hers. "How far along?"

"I don't know. I just... I just found out.

Today. Twenty minutes ago." The words tumble out in a rush.

"I've been on birth control but something happened and I missed my period and I've been so sick and, Gods, please don’t tell my mom. I’m not ready to have that conversation yet, and Daddy, fuck, he’s going to kill me and him. "

"Breathe," she instructs, squeezing my hands. "Deep breath. There you go. Another one."

I follow her instructions, years of EMT training kicking in.

Manage the panic. Stabilize the patient. Even when the patient is yourself.

"Does he know?" she asks once I'm calmer. "The father?"

The question makes me flinch. "No, not yet."

Something in my voice must give me away because Vail's expression shifts. "Everly, I… are you okay?"

The question breaks something open in me. "No," I whisper. "I'm not okay. I haven't been okay in months."

"Is it—" She stops, choosing her words carefully. "Is the father someone who's hurt you?"

I can't speak, can’t even nod my head as tears stream down my face.

"Okay." Vail pulls me into a hug, careful but firm. "Okay. We're going to figure this out. You're not alone in this."

"I don't know what to do," I sob into her shoulder.

"It’s okay," she says firmly. "There isn’t anything you need to figure out right now."

"But I do. I need to sort through this mess."

"You are," she insists. "And you will, okay?"

We sit like that for a while, her holding me while I cry out months of fear and pain and now this new terror.

When I finally pull back, she hands me tissues from her pocket.

"First things first," she says, shifting into practical mode. "You need to see a doctor. Confirm how far along you are, make sure everything's okay."

"I just need a few days to process this, okay?"

"I understand, but you need to make sure you’re doing everything right for your baby, okay?" Vail's voice is gentle but firm. "You need medical care, Everly. For both of you."

This still doesn't feel real.

"What if..." I can't finish the thought.

"What if what?"

"What if I can't do this? What if I'm too broken to be a mother?"

"Stop." Vail grips my shoulders. "You're one of the strongest women I know. You save lives every day. You can do this. And you won't be doing it alone."

"You don't understand. I just don’t know how I’m going to do this."