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Chapter Twenty-Six

Jemma

J ordan drove me to a pharmacy twenty minutes from home. She grabs a handful of pregnancy tests, dropping them onto the counter without a care. I’m too scared to function. The thought of having a baby with a man I barely know makes my stomach turn. Trent is a decent guy, but this is too sudden.

How did I let this happen?

Jordan pays for the tests, and we get back in the car. My heart hammers in my chest, pounding so hard it feels like it will explode.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” I blurt out.

“It’s okay.” Jordan pulls out of the parking lot and heads toward the highway. “Until we know for sure, don’t panic. No matter the results, we’ll get through this together.”

“I thought we were careful. I didn’t think I needed a morning-after pill.”

“You’ve only been with one man,” she points out. “You didn’t know.”

“I should have, though. It’s not like I haven’t had sex before.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Jem. You can’t change the results.”

My body trembles from the fear rocking through me. Jordan holds my hand once we’re on the highway. We drive silently, and my stomach churns when we park in front of the barn.

My mom is in the kitchen when we enter the house. Jordan says she’s taking a shower before dragging me upstairs. We rush into the bedroom and lock the door behind us.

Jordan dumps the pregnancy tests on the counter. She opens two boxes and unwraps the plastic sticks before handing them to me.

“Pee on both of them.”

A wave of panic rocks through me, sucking the air from my lungs.

“You seem to have experience with this.”

She rolls her shoulders. “I’ve had a few wild nights since I moved to Philly.”

I glance down at the sticks in my hand and sigh.

“Take the tops off the sticks,” she instructs. “After you pee on them, it takes about two minutes to see a result.”

She flings open the door, her back to me. “Good luck, Jem.”

My heart sinks into my stomach when she closes the door. I hover over the toilet, grip the sticks awkwardly in my hand, and pee on them.

I place the tests on the sink and lean out the door to call Jordan back in the bathroom.

She glances down at the tests, a dark expression crossing her face. “Shit, that was quick.”

The first test has two faint pink lines.

“Please tell me that means not pregnant.”

She shakes her head. “You’re very pregnant.”

Chills roll down my arms.

She points at the second test that mow has two pink lines.

I rip open another box. “The tests aren’t one hundred percent accurate, right?”

Jordan stands behind me, her hands on my shoulders as she looks at me in the mirror. “You’re pregnant, sis.”

“Maybe it’s a false positive.”

“I doubt it.”

I drink a bottle of water and take the rest of the tests, all with two pink lines. Tears spill down my cheeks. Jordan wipes them away with her fingers, but they keep soaking my shirt. Once I start, I can’t stop crying.

My entire life is about to change.

Jordan hugs me. “We’ll figure it out. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“How do I tell Trent? Our relationship is just beginning. He doesn’t need a kid when he’s planning to play in the NHL.”

“Trent seems pretty invested in you,” she says in a hushed tone. “He might surprise you.”

“I can’t tell him over the phone.”

“He’s coming to the New Year’s Eve party.”

I shake my head. “No, I told him not to come because I’m sick.”

“You can wait until we get back to campus. A few days won’t make a difference.”

“I don’t know for sure.” I bite my bottom lip. “Not until a doctor confirms it.”

She lifts a handful of tests from the sink. “I could see one false positive but not seven.”

“I need a blood test before I tell Trent.”

She cups my shoulder. “How about I make you some tea with honey to help you relax?”

I nod. “Thanks. That sounds good.”

“What I’m going to do? How do I tell Trent?”

She grabs my hand and leads me out of the bathroom. “Don’t overwhelm yourself. Stress can hurt the baby.”

“Thank you for doing this with me. I’m so glad you’re here. I couldn’t take the tests alone.”

“What are sisters for?”

“I wish you could tell him for me.”

She frowns. “You have to tell him. Don’t punk out.”

“But how do I say it? Do I blurt it out and hope for the best?”

“When you see Trent, you’ll know what to do.”

“I hope so,” I choke out.