Page 21 of Forbidden Love

“Okay,” Deb nodded, clearing her throat. “Thanks.” She said to Hunter, then glanced at Brock, who stood staring at her. She gave him a nod and then turned to start unpacking the boxes. Hearing the truck start and leave, she glanced over her shoulder, feeling relieved that they were gone. The less she saw of Brock, the better. She was going to make sure she was out of the house bright and early in the morning.

Once she got into the rhythm of unpacking deliveries, time passed in a blur. Box after box, she checked orders, sorted items, and stacked them neatly. The steady work helped quiet her mind, at least for a little while. After breaking down the last of the shipping boxes, she hauled them outside for Hunter to toss on the burn pile later.

As she walked back in, she stretched with a yawn, rolling her neck to ease the tension. Just as she passed the small, single-stall bathroom, a sound stopped her mid-step. Her brow creased with concern as she turned back and knocked lightly on the door.

“Just a minute,” Emily called out, her voice strained and weak.

Deb’s frown deepened. “Em, are you okay?”

The door creaked open, and Deb’s breath caught. Emily stood there, ghostly pale, a sheen of sweat clinging to her forehead and upper lip.

“Emily?” Deb said, alarm tightening in her chest.

“I’m fine,” Emily murmured, waving a shaky hand, but the way she hunched over, clutching her stomach, told a different story. Before Deb could say another word, Emily turned and rushed back into the bathroom.

“Emily!” Deb called out, her heart racing, and followed her inside without hesitation.

Emily was already on her knees, bracing herself over the toilet. Her body trembled as another round of dry heaves wracked her frame. Without thinking, Deb dropped beside her, gathering Emily’s hair and pulling it back gently, her other hand resting lightly on her sister’s back in silent support.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Deb said softly, even though panic was rising inside her. Seeing Emily like this—vulnerable, sick—was like being punched in the chest. Emily was never sick.

Emily didn’t answer, too caught up in her body's misery, and Deb swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay calm.

Once Emily stopped heaving, they sat together on the cold tile floor inside the stall, backs pressed against the wall. Deb had fetched wet paper towels from the sink, and Emily now held one to her forehead, still pale and clammy but slowly catching her breath.

“I hate puking,” Emily muttered, her voice a little stronger, though the misery still clung to her expression.

Deb gave a small smile, but her eyes remained laced with concern. “You weren’t the one always getting sick. That was me, remember?”

Emily huffed out a weak laugh. “I know. But when you puked, I puked too. Couldn’t help it. You’d gag, and I’d be right behind you, ready to hurl.”

Deb chuckled, shaking her head. “You always were a sympathy puker.”

They sat quietly for a moment. The silence wasn’t heavy, just thoughtful. But Deb couldn’t ignore the way Emily still looked flushed and weak, her hand rubbing absently over her stomach.

Deb turned her head and studied her. “Em?”

“Hm?” Emily murmured without opening her eyes.

“Is there any chance you could be... pregnant?”

Emily’s eyes snapped open, and she turned her head slowly. “What? No—I mean... I don’t think so.”

Deb arched a brow. “You don’t think so? That’s not a hard no.”

Emily sighed, dropping her head back against the wall. “I’m not sure, okay? I mean… I guess I’m a little late, but that’s not totally unusual for me. I’ve always been off a few days here and there. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Deb’s expression softened. “Yeah, but throwing up at work and turning ghost-white isn’t your norm either. And you’ve been tired lately. I’ve noticed.”

Emily groaned. “You sound like Hunter.”

“I’ll ignore that you compared me to that ass,” Deb said with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood. “But seriously, Em. Better to know than sit around wondering, right?”

“I don’t know…” Emily murmured, her gaze drifting toward the bathroom door like it held the answers or maybe just a good escape route. “What if it’s just stress? What if I get the test and it’s nothing?”

“Then it’s nothing,” Deb said matter-of-factly, though a little crease formed between her brows. “But I gotta admit, I’m a little confused. Doesn’t Hunter want kids? I mean, I know you do because when we were young and dumb, you talked about it non-stop. You had that ridiculous dream board with your perfect man, perfect house, perfect kids, and a golden retriever named Muffin.”

Emily groaned. “It wasMoose, not Muffin.”

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