Page 89 of Stuck with my Mechanic Daddies

Not by a few days, but over a week.

I hadn't even noticed, too focused on everything else, but a realization washed over me, and I felt a rush of panic.

Could it be?

No.

It couldn’t. Not now.

I shook my head hard, as if I could physically force the thought out of my mind.

It was ridiculous. Impossible.

But still, something wasn’t right.

I was exhausted in a way that sleep couldn’t fix.

My emotions swung from one extreme to the next. Raw, unpredictable, like a storm I couldn’t outrun. My body felt foreign, my breaths too shallow, my focus shattered.

I thought it was just being here in Medford, but the signs were there, staring me in the face, daring me to acknowledge them.

Could stress really cause this? Could anxiety twist my body into betraying me like this?

Or was there something far worse lurking beneath the surface?

I reached for the box of tampons, my fingers curling around it, clutching it like it could somehow anchor me.

But the longer I stared, the heavier the weight in my chest became.

A sharp breath shuddered through me.

No. I couldn’t ignore this.

I needed to know.

My hands trembled as I grabbed my phone, my fingers moving too fast, too frantic as I typed: “Nearest pharmacy.”

I didn’t want to do this.

Not now. Not when my entire life felt like it was already unraveling, thread by thread, secret by secret.

But I had to.

The cold night air slapped against my skin as I stepped outside, but it did nothing to calm the feverish heat rising inside me.

My car was parked right by the entrance to the inn—delivered at last by Ethan—but just the thought of getting inside made me breathe hard.

No, I needed to move, to feel the cold air in my lungs, to focus on anything but what was coming.

Every step felt sluggish, my boots scraping against the pavement as the weight in my stomach coiled tighter, heavier.

By the time I reached the pharmacy, my pulse was a roar in my ears, my fingers stiff as I reached for the test.

The cashier’s voice was a distant hum, polite chatter drowned out by the sheer, suffocating pressure in my chest.

I barely remembered the walk back to the Medford Inn.

I barely remembered locking myself in the bathroom, my breath coming in uneven bursts as I stared down at the small, unassuming box in my hands.

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