Written in the Scars(67)

“What?” I gasp, sitting up straight. “No. Of course not. Why would you ask me that?”

“You’ve yawned all night.”

“I’m tired! I can’t sleep when Ty’s at work.”

“Your face is flushed.”

“It’s hot as hell in here.”

“And,” he says, “you didn’t touch your dinner tonight.”

“Because the hamburger was pink and I can’t eat it when it’s mooing at me,” I say with a huff, as I rise from the table.

I start to say something else. That I’d rather not discuss the topic of pregnancy with him. It dredges up things I’d rather not think about. But the more I think about it, the more a little bubble of uncertainty sits in the middle of my stomach.

I race through a calendar in my head, trying to figure out when to expect my period. It’s never exactly on time and with the stress of everything, I haven’t paid a lot of attention.

My heartbeat starts to quicken and I feel my cheeks heat further.

Cord’s chair pushes out, the legs dragging against the floor. I look up at him and he smiles.

“Cord . . .” My mouth goes dry before I can say anything else.

“Reading people is a remnant of being a foster kid. You learn to read people, notice little things because if you don’t, you’ll get your ass kicked,” he shrugs. “If you are, congratulations. And if you’re not . . . it will happen,” he says, tossing the hood of his jacket over his head. “Now I’m going to go show those boys how to work on a truck.”

He winks and heads out the front door, leaving me in the kitchen with my jaw hanging wide open.





ELIN


“What?” I look up as Lindsay rounds the corner. Her hand still holds her phone, as her face mars with confusion. “What?” she asks again.

I laugh, a sound of disbelief married with anxiety. “I’m not sure.”

“Dude, you’re scaring me,” she says, coming towards me. “What’s the matter, Elin?”

My hand trembles as I raise it from my side. The bangle bracelets on my wrist rustle prettily together. As if on auto-pilot, it heads to my stomach but I stop it, hesitate, before it lands. With a deep breath, I watch my palm meet my stomach.

My eyes fly to hers. “Linds?”

“Yeah?”

“Um, I don’t know if this is even possible. I mean it’s possible, technically,” I say hurriedly, the brownie I ate starting to creep up my throat, “but I’m not sure . . .”

“Elin?” She closes the distance between us, her eyes drifting to my hand on my stomach.

I giggle nervously. “I’m probably not,” I say. “I mean, I never thought about it. But maybe?”

“Oh my God,” she breathes, her eyes flying wide. “Seriously? You think so?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if I want to know.”

“Of course you do!” she says, dragging me down the hall. “I mean, I do, so you do. Oh my God! This would be the best thing ever!”

My heart squeezes, nearly cutting off my oxygen. Knowing that it would be the best thing ever for the both of us to have babies with the men we love, but also knowing that if things had worked out, we already would be on that path, makes a hot set of tears sting my eyes.

We reach the bathroom door, the one where I ran into Ty at the night of the bonfire. Lindsay spins me around to face her.

“Do you want to know?” she demands. “I mean, you’ll have to know sooner or later. And I want to force you in there to take a test, but I also know how personal this is and maybe you want to wait and do it with Ty?”

I imagine his face if it turns out I’m not. Looking down at my stomach for a few moments before up at my friend again, I say, “Let’s do it.”

Lindsay lets out a squeal and flips on the light. She rummages through a cabinet. No words may come out of my mouth, but a million emotions swirl together in my body creating a beautiful, dangerous chaos that I’m not sure I can navigate.

“Ta-da!” she exclaims, standing up and wielding a little box. It rattles as she shakes it. “I knew I had an extra!”

She extends her hand, offering me the device that will either change my world or ruin an excitement that, despite my best efforts, has already started to take root.

“Am I really going to do this?” I ask, taking the box.

“Yes, you are. I have to know.”

“Well, get out of here and let me pee on the stick.”

Lindsay laughs, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Okay, but I want to watch it turn with you. Okay? I mean, I don’t even care if that’s gross.”

“Out,” I laugh, shoving her towards the door gently. Once she’s gone, I shut it and lock it for good measure.

The package ripped open, I toss the box and directions away. Forcing a swallow, I study the little white gadget.

“Be good to me,” I whisper, pulling down my pants.

It takes forever to actually urinate, and I try to guide the thin piece of plastic into the stream. Finishing up and getting myself together, I sit it on the counter and refuse to look at it.

I can’t.

A ball sits in my throat as I open the door and face my friend. I think I might pass out.