Page 142 of Habits

I nod my head in understanding. Gulping down, I wet my lips. “Doctor, I …”

“What about the baby?”

Andrew’s quiet question leaves me breathless and stupefied. His hand grips mine tighter, but that’s the only indication that he’s nervous. I don’t dare look at him, afraid of what I’ll find if I do.

How does he know? Did the girls tell him? Did he …

The doctor looks between the two of us, his bushy brows furrowing. “What baby?”

Andrew’s whole body stiffens next to me. Turning to the side as much as I can, I look at him, my eyes wide.

What does he mean ‘what baby’?

“I …” The words get stuck in my throat, and I have to clear it before I continue. “My period was late so I took a pregnancy test. It was positive.”

Did I lose it? Did I lose the baby in the accident?

How could I be so careless? How could I …

“We had to do different tests when you came, including blood work.” Brown eyes soften as he looks at us. “I’m sorry, Miss Sanders, but you’re not pregnant. The test must’ve been a false positive.”

Andrew

You’re not pregnant.

After those words, the doctor exits the room, reminding Jeanette to take it easy and ask for pain meds if she needs them.

The test was a false positive.

I rub my face feeling … empty.

Why do I feel empty? I should be happy. Ecstatic even. I love Jeanette, I really do. But we’re only teenagers with so much in front of us before we have kids. This feeling is completely unreasonable and batshit crazy, but for a little while, this was real.

This baby,ourbaby, was real.

The acceptance and love, the fear of losing it, was real.

And now it’s all gone. Just like that.

“How did you find out?” Jeanette asks softly from her bed, breaking the quiet that settled over the room once the doctor left.

We lifted the back of the bed a little to help her into a more relaxed position. A bit of color returned to her face, and her voice is clearer after sipping on water.

“Max.” When I see her surprised face, I explain, “Your dad asked him to go home and grab some stuff for you. While he was packing, he saw the test.”

“He was really pissed,” she states, her eyes roaming over my beaten face.

I didn’t bother looking at how bad it is. I can barely feel the pain, but maybe that’s the adrenaline talking.

“Pretty pissed.”

Her good hand lifts and touches my cheek. I wrap my hand around hers, taking some of the weight. I bring her palm to my lips and kiss the inside of her wrist.

It still doesn’t seem real.

She’s okay.

She’s awake.

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