Page 111 of Habits

Brook and Lia murmur about something, but I can’t hear them. My heart is speeding up and my breathing is growing labored. Panic and exhilaration. I can feel butterflies in my stomach, like little birds learning how to spread their wings.

What if it’s positive? What if I’m actually pregnant? How am I going to do it? How am I going to tell my parents? Max? Andrew? How am I going to tell Andrew?

A new, stronger wave of panic assaults me.

Does he even want to have kids? Now? Ever? We’re both so fucked up. Sonotready to be in a proper relationship, much less have achild.

But what if it’s negative? What if this was really my only chance to have a child of my own and it was just false hope? Will I ever be able to forgive myself? Will I ever be able to forget the pain and disappointment? I’ve never really given it much thought. Pregnancy wasn’t on my mind, not even close until now, until there is a possibility of maybe actually being pregnant.

The beeping sound brings me out of the maze of my thoughts.

“Ready?” Brook looks at me worriedly, nibbling at her lip.

I gulp down. “Can we do yours first?”

“Sure.” She nods, picking up her test. She looks at it, and even though she didn’t have a reason to do it, even though she doesn’t think she’s pregnant, I can see her shoulders relax in relief. “It’s negative.”

She turns it around the show us the big fat minus. Then she throws it in the bin underneath the sink and turns around to look at me.

Lia comes closer, her hand falling over my shoulder and giving me a reassuring squeeze.

I give Brook a “go on” sign and wait as she picks up the test and looks down at it.

Her throat bobbles as she slowly lifts her eyes. Lia’s hand on my shoulder tightens almost painfully, and if I wasn’t already sitting, I’m sure my legs would give out on me.

Gradually, as if in slow motion, Brook turns it so we can see it.

“What are you going to do?”

Andrew

“Hill!” Coach shouts, stopping me in my tracks.

I exchange a quick look with Derek before returning my gaze to the man standing in front of the room. “Yeah, Coach?”

“Stay here for a bit, son.”

“Sure thing, Coach.”

All the guys slowly leave the locker room, the noise and banter going away with them down the hall and to the bus waiting outside to take us to our game later today.

I nibble at my lip nervously, shifting from one leg to the other. Coach looks through his papers and organizes his stuff until the last of the guys are out and there is only silence on the other side of the door.

“Feeling good, Hill?”

I rub my suddenly sweaty hands on the sides of my thighs, nervous, but more than anything else, confused. “Coach?”

He lifts his gaze, dark eyes as sharp as always as they zero in on me. His face is washed with age and cold, wrinkles around his mouth and eyes prominent and most likely the result of frowning on all the bad calls and stupid shit his players pull.

“I think my question is pretty clear.”

“Yes, Coach. Crystal,” I say in a hurry, then add, “I’m fine. Ready to get this show on the road.”

Dark eyes narrow slightly as he looks at me, trying to find … something. I’m not sure what. The last few days have been tough. The day after Derek came to my house to get me back on track, the coach gave me a verbal beating and then pushed me until I wanted to puke my guts out. Even now, I can still feel the smallest of muscles I didn’t know existed from all the exercise he put me through.

I try to stay still and hold his gaze. Not show him that I’m nervous when, in reality, I can feel drops of sweat forming on my forehead.

Will he tell me I’m benched for the game? Why did he even let me come back then?

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