Page 105 of Once Upon A Second Chance

I turn slowly, praying I imagined it, but no—there he is. Jesse. My big brother, wearing his dusty work boots and a sleeveless tee that still smells like fresh cut lumber, staring at the box in my basket like it just bit him.

I start to tuck it behind the granola bars, but it’s too late. He’s already seen.

His eyes go wide. “Are you—? Are you serious right now?”

“Jesse,” I warn, lowering my voice, glancing around to see who’s within earshot. “Don’t start.”

“You’re buying a pregnancy test,” he says, like I don’t know, like it’s news to me. “Tell me this isn’t what it looks like.”

“I’m not doing this here,” I hiss.

Jesse’s mouth opens like he’s about to launch into full protective-older-brother mode, but I shoot him a look so sharp it stops him cold. Doesn’t matter. He’s already turning, walking away fast, shoulders tense.

“Jesse!” I call after him. “Don’t you dare—”

But he’s gone.

Out the door, keys already in hand, headed for his truck. Headed forRichard.

“Goddammit,” I mutter, gripping the edge of my basket so tightly the plastic creaks.

I want to scream. I want to chase him down and drag him back by the collar and tell him that this—this—was not his news to run with.

He shouldn’t get to steal this moment from me because he’s too proud and overprotective andemotionally constipated to keep his damn mouth shut for five seconds.

This is mine.

My decision. My timing. My fear. My hope.

And now it’s out of my hands.

I storm to the self-checkout, scan the box like I’m scanning a weapon, pay, and jam the bag into my purse before half the pharmacy can blink.

As soon as I’m outside, I dig out my phone, heart still pounding, fury singing in my veins like electricity.

I don’t want to do this over the phone.

I wanted to sit Richard down. I wanted to hold his hand and say the words carefully, on my terms, in my space, with my voice steady and his eyes on mine.

But Jesse’s already in motion, and if I don’t get ahead of this, everything—everything—will spiral before I’ve even peed on the stick.

I hit Richard’s name and press call, holding the phone to my ear with a hand that trembles, not with fear, but withrage.

It rings once. Twice. Then his voice: “Hey, babe—what’s up?”

I close my eyes.

“I’m sorry I’m doing it like this,” I say quickly. “I didn’t want it to be this way. I didn’t want it to beon the phone.But Jesse saw me buying a pregnancy test and now he’s on his way to find you, and I just—” I stop, breath catching. “I didn’t wanthimto be the one to tell you. I’m sorry.”

There’s silence on the line for a beat too long.

Then Richard says, voice gentler than I expect, “Okay. I’m here. Tell me.”

I sit down on the bench outside the pharmacy, bag pressed against my knees, head bowed.

“I don’t know anything yet,” I say. “I haven’t even taken the damn test. I just… I’ve been feeling off. Weird. Not myself. And it started adding up. Or maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe it’s just stress. But I needed to know. And I neededyouto know. From me. Not from Jesse.”

Richard exhales slowly. “Okay,” he says again, voice calm but serious. “Thank you for calling me. We’ll figure this out. Together.”