Page 49 of When I Should’ve Stayed (Red Bridge #2)

Josie

I scrub a hand down my face and squint to make out the time on the clock on my nightstand, but the numbers are too blurred for me to confirm.

All I know is that it’s still dark outside and way too early to have Norah standing over my bed looking at me with wide, alert eyes and rambling a mile a minute about things that sound absolutely bonkers to someone who just got woken up from a dead sleep.

Mind you, this morning visit is coming four days after she handed me a pregnancy stick with her pee on it to reveal the explosive news—she’s pregnant with Bennett Bishop’s baby—and after nearly two weeks of interrupted sleep from helping get his sloppy, drunk ass home safely every night while he grieves his daughter.

Norah and Ben are barely on speaking terms outside of his late-night, inebriated chats, and he shows no signs of stopping his binges anytime soon.

It’s a fucking mess. So much so, it actually makes all my own bullshit feel a little less wild.

“I need to do this, Josie.” She’s still rambling. “But I don’t want to do it by myself, and I want you—”

“Let me get this straight,” I cut her off completely because my mind is having a hell of time understanding the crazy things she’s saying right now.

“You called a doctor two towns over and made an appointment before normal business hours—before dawn—because you’re worried about someone seeing you going to the doctor and blabbing to Bennett about the impending bundle of joy before you get the chance? ”

She nods along with each word I say while keeping count of I don’t even know what on her fingers. And she stays silent for only a few seconds before saying, “Yes. Exactly.”

Good grief. I swear, one day we’re all going to have to stop playing this no one in town can know game. It’s exhausting.

“Norah—”

“No, no, Josie.” She shakes her head manically and holds up one hand. “You don’t get to tell me I’ve lost my mind when I’ve already been in the newspaper three times after living here for less than half a year, okay? You know I’m right to do it this way.”

I can’t say she’s wrong, but hell’s bells, it is so damn early.

I groan and scrub my hand down my face again. “But today was my only day to sleep in while Todd opens. Whyyyy?”

“Because this was your only day to sleep in, silly. And I need you to go with me. Plus, this is the absolute earliest I could bribe this doctor into opening for me, and I had to promise a one-of-a-kind Bennett Bishop painting to her in order to do it.”

“Norah!” I slam both of my hands down onto my comforter. “And just exactly how are you going to follow through on that one, huh?”

She shrugs. “Easy. I’m still Bennett’s assistant. I’m still doing all the legwork for his day-to-day, and Breezy likes me. I’ll tell her where the painting is going, and she’ll send me the label to ship it.”

“Bless it. I need just an ounce of your energy for insane ideas.” I swear, my sister has more energy than the Energizer Bunny. And right now, all that energy is being pushed directly at me. My tired body is not a fan.

“Please.” She rolls her eyes. “So says the woman who is furthering our grandma’s legacy by selling mass-produced candles in a handmade Ponzi scheme.”

“Norah…” I pause, and she puts a defiant hand to her hip.

“Josie, get up. I need a support person with me, okay?”

“What?” My sigh is deep and exasperated, leaving my lips on such a hard whoosh of air that it blows strands of hair away from my face. “Handing me the stick with your pee on it four days ago wasn’t enough for you?”

Norah slaps her hands to her thighs and stomps her foot on the hardwood floor of my bedroom. “I need official confirmation. I need a reason to get up the courage to tell Bennett. I need…this. Can you just get out of bed…please?”

I shake my head at her dramatics, but I also smile at my crazy, pregnant, over-the-top theatrical sister. “Okay. But seriously, I’m not looking forward to the harebrained ideas you’re going to come up with while you’re hormonal.”

“That’s sweet, Josie,” she says and rolls her eyes again. “But how about you move your ass, okay?”

“Fine.” I huff out a sigh and climb out of bed. “Give me ten minutes.”

“Two minutes!” she calls over her shoulder as she walks out of my bedroom. “And I’ll be in the car timing you!”

…

The last time I was at Burlington Medical Center was almost five years ago for a follow-up appointment after my miscarriage.

That appointment…changed everything.

The bright lights of the exam room pierce my eyes, and my anxious stomach churns from my spot on the black plastic chair in the corner. Norah sits on the crinkly paper of the medical table, worrying her fingers together as we wait for the doctor.

I fight like hell, clawing at the proverbial cliff as my delicate psyche dangles above the painful memory of rock bottom.

A room just like this and news that would change the course of my life forever. News that made me change the course of my life forever.

I’ve spent so much time compartmentalizing it all, but it buzzes just beneath the surface now. I’m still the only one who knows about that little baby’s existence, and a day doesn’t go by without me thinking about him or her.

Technically, I never was far enough along in my pregnancy to know if it was a boy or girl, but I always felt like it was a boy. A little boy with Clay’s brown eyes and my blond hair.

God, Josie. Stop thinking about it.

I pull my phone out of my purse and pretend to scroll through social media, but I don’t actually see any of it.

I feel like a shit sister for being face first in my device while Norah sits nervously on the exam table, but my emotions are hanging on by a thread. A very thin thread, at that.

When Dr. Vesper walks into the room, I’m instantly thankful for the distraction, and I sit up straighter in my seat, setting my phone back in my purse.

“Hi, Dr. Vesper,” Norah greets her. “Thanks for agreeing to this.”

Dr. Vesper’s smile is warm and confident as she walks over to my sister.

She’s a short woman with thick muscles and a wise disposition.

Most importantly, though, she’s not the doctor I saw all those years ago, thank God.

“Yes, well. I’m used to desperate moms-to-be on the phone, but I have to admit your desperation sounded a little different. ”

Norah cringes, and I bite my lip to fight my laughter.

I can only imagine the earful her receptionist got when my sister tried to schedule this appointment.

I mean, she woke me up this morning by shaking the shit out of me with two hands that felt stronger than the Hulk.

No telling what threats she used against Dr. Vesper’s receptionist to get this visit.

“All right, so we ran the urine sample you gave us, and you are definitely pregnant, my dear,” Dr. Vesper updates.

“HCG levels look good, but since you’re only six weeks or so, we’re going to hold off on the ultrasound.

I don’t like to do them until at least eight weeks.

That way, we can feel confident we’re going to hear a heartbeat. ”

Norah is pregnant. I’m going to be an aunt.

That thin thread inside my body starts to fray even more, but I swallow hard against the onslaught, even covering my mouth with my hand to keep control. Now isn’t the time for anything but calm and stoic and supportive. I’m so fucking happy; I am so fucking triggered.

My temples pulse with the effort to fight off the tsunami of ensuing emotion. I’ve had this news delivered to me before. I’ve had it ripped away. God, please don’t let that happen to Norah.

“So, today, all we’re really looking to do is get some information about family medical history, for both you and the father,” Dr. Vesper announces.

“I’ll need you to fill out some paperwork, we’ll get you started on prenatals, and then we’ll get another appointment set up for you in a couple of weeks. ”

I catch the uncertain look on Norah’s face as Dr. Vesper waits expectantly, and I know straightaway what her mind has fixated on—family history. Her throat bobs in a desperate spiral into panic.

“The, uh, father had one other child who was diagnosed with Osteogenesis Imperfecta Type III,” I chime in for her, and Dr. Vesper’s reaction is a soft nod.

“Okay,” she says. “We’ll plan to do a full genetic panel then, at around ten weeks, and that’ll tell us everything we need to know.

Until then, I don’t want you to worry. Though osteogenesis imperfecta is a genetic disorder, it’s often caused by a mutation in the type 1 collagen genes.

If no one else in the father’s family has OI, it’s likely to have stemmed from the maternal side. ”

By the time we’re in the car, Norah has a folder filled with information, a follow-up appointment already scheduled, and a running river of tears streaming down her cheeks.

She’s overwhelmed. She’s scared. She’s happy. She’s terrified. She’s all the fucking things right now, and I don’t blame her one bit. I try to comfort her as best as I can.

“It’s going to be okay,” I tell her and try with all my might not to show a hint of emotion, not a hint of weakness in my voice. “Everything is going to be okay. I promise you.”

I generally don’t like to make promises I can’t keep, but I refuse to do anything but make Norah feel okay and attempt to put her fears at ease. It’s what she needs right now. It’s what her baby needs right now.

Being pregnant is meant to be a joyous occasion. It’s something you should celebrate and be excited about. But how can Norah only feel excitement when this pregnancy is coming on the heels of Summer dying?

And more than that, how will Bennett handle news like this?

It all feels a little too reminiscent of the past, too much like history repeating itself, and once I feel like Norah is calm, I start the drive back into town.

Forty minutes later, I’m pulling into my driveway when Norah’s phone rings.

“Hello?” she answers by the second ring. She nods at whatever is being said on the other line. “Of course. That’s what you pay me for.”

It doesn’t take me long to put together that it’s Breezy on the call.

Though Norah and Bennett aren’t on speaking terms at this juncture, she’s still his assistant and an undeniably important part of his life.

Calls from Breezy aren’t out of the ordinary for Norah or—after our heart-to-heart post-fake-wedding—me.

“Holy shit!” Norah’s mouth gapes, and her eyebrows lift to her hairline. “You’re kidding me!”

Her reaction is jarring. I listen intently.

“What?” I ask on a whisper. “What is it?”

Norah holds up one hand toward me, still nodding while Breezy continues to say something in her ear. “Jesus. Thanks, Breezy… I will.” She hangs up the phone a moment later, audaciously taking the time to put it back in her purse before explaining.

“What? What’s going on?” I probe anxiously.

“Thomas and Eleanor…they were running an underage prostitution ring.”

My God. “That is so fucked up.”

“It’s sick,” she whispers.

After I read the letter Alexis had given Norah on the day she was supposed to marry Thomas King, I was equal parts shocked and not shocked at all at the allegations pointed toward our mother and Norah’s now-ex.

Inside that letter, Alexis detailed the evil and manipulative way Eleanor had nearly ruined her life.

But she also hinted that she wasn’t the only young girl involved.

She was just the girl who managed to get out.

And now, it’s all coming to a head.

My mind races with thoughts of all the girls’ lives our evil mother and Norah’s slimy ex have ruined. All the ways I’ve seen my mother operate in the name of money and greed and power. And all the things Eleanor’s gone on to do after ruining her own family’s lives.

God, make them pay. Please, make them pay for what they’ve done.

We sit there in silence for a long moment, but eventually, I break it by admitting my horrifying truth. “But it’s almost shocking how a large part of me isn’t all that surprised.”

Norah’s head whips toward me. “Josie!”

“I know, Nore. I know.” I reach out to grasp her hand.

I know she feels shocked. I know something like this is impossibly hard for her to understand.

But I don’t know if Norah has let herself fully see our mother for who she is.

I’ve known how evil Eleanor Ellis is since the moment I witnessed her neglect kill our baby sister Jezzy and how she never once owned up to her responsibility in her death.

I just wish I’d been strong enough to do more about it.

Unfortunately, I know Norah feels responsible too. I squeeze her fingers. “But don’t you dare blame yourself for any of it, you hear me? If you hadn’t taken off from that wedding and made all the moves you have, they might still be at it, you know?”

She nods, holding my hand back as the two of us come to terms with the weight of where we came from.

I’m so glad both of us got out.

With a final hug, we climb out of the car and slam both of our doors, and I head for the house. I expect Norah to be following me, but she heads straight for the Civic and opens the door, ready to climb in.

“What are you doing?” I call toward her. “You’re going somewhere?”

“Yep. To Bennett’s house. Wish me luck.”

She doesn’t even have to tell me why. She’s going to tell him that she’s pregnant. My chest tightens.

“You don’t need luck, babe,” I say with an honest shake of my head. “You’ve got Summer.”

Norah doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t have to. Instead, she pulls Summer’s pink sunglasses out of her purse and slides them on her face.

A moment later, she’s in my old Civic, driving toward an absolution that, for me, will never come.

By the time she’s out of the driveway and on the main road, tears fall in unchecked rivers down my cheeks.

For what is. For what was. For what should’ve been.

Instead of waiting to find the most perfect moment to tell Bennett she’s pregnant, she’s going right now. She’s doing exactly what I wish I would’ve done all those years ago.

Maybe we wouldn’t have been arguing that night after Thanksgiving dinner. Maybe we would’ve never gotten in that accident. Maybe our baby would’ve lived, I would’ve stayed, and we’d be together with a whole brood of kids by now.

Maybe, just maybe, everything would be different.