Page 35 of Breakaway Daddies

“Nothing,” I reply, stifling a grin.

He chuckles, the sound as familiar as an old song. “Come on, Jinx. You should come! Blow off some steam. We’ll party, we’ll hit the clubs. No work, no stress.”

I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me, and start the car, the engine purring to life. “Tempting, but I have my hands full.”

“Yeah, yeah. Working all the time, running around with the team, being all responsible,” he says with an exaggerated sigh, his voice dripping with mock disappointment. “My sister, the buzzkill.”

As I ease my foot off the brakes and steer out of the parking lot, Jack’s voice shifts into a playful tone.

“You sound exhausted. Are you coming down with something?” His words carry a hint of concern wrapped in jest.

“Nah,” I reply automatically, my voice flat and unconvincing. “Just been swamped with things. Not feeling my best, but I’ll manage.”

I try to sound nonchalant, but the fatigue is real.

“Well, just make sure you take care of yourself, alright?” Jack quips, his words light but striking a chord.

I laugh awkwardly, thinking about what I’ve been up to and how I’ve been taking care of myself in better ways than usual.

Jack’s voice continues, but it fades into a dull hum as my pulse pounds loudly in my ears, the thought of all the dirty, wild sex I’ve been having drowning out his chatter.

“Jinx? You still there?” His words finally cut through, snapping me back to reality.

“Hey, I’ve got to run. We’ll catch up later, okay?”

I’ve been taking care of myself in a few ways… but what if that’s the reason I’m sick?

What if I’m pregnant?

The thought alone chokes me.

Gravity lurches me forward as my foot slams the brakes in reaction to my thought, my heart thundering in my chest. I make a sharp turn onto the main road as the car behind me honks aggressively.

A sense of urgency grips me as I realize I need to head to the store.

Right now.

I unlock my phone and dive into the group chat with the guys, my fingers tapping rapidly on the glass screen.

>> Just stepped out to pick up some stuff. What do you guys want for dinner?

A few seconds later, three dots appear, bouncing in anticipation.

Rowan >> Steak.

Bruno >> Potatoes.

Thomas >> Beer.

Rowan >> That’s not food, dumbass.

Thomas >> Fine. Salad. And beer. Happy?

I manage a giggle, the banter a brief distraction from the storm of thoughts swirling in my mind.

>> Alright. Steaks, potatoes, salad. Beer. Got it.

I toss my phone onto the passenger seat of my car and pull into the grocery store parking lot, the tires crunching over loose gravel. Grabbing a cart, I weave through the bustling aisles, swiftly tossing in items as I pass.

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