Page 56 of Wild Heart

“Hope for what?”

Natalie leaned back against the wooden shelf, crossing her arms tightly. Her voice cracked, barely audible above the wind. “That someone would choose me. Wholly. Without the ghosts.”

She looked up finally, meeting Olivia’s gaze. “Do you know what betrayal does, Liv? It doesn’t just cut. It stains. It gets in your blood.”

Olivia’s eyes were glassy. “I never meant…”

“But you did,” Natalie interrupted. “You meant to protect Davey. You meant to protect Mason. You just didn’t think about me. I’m your oldest friend. The one who stayed in touch. Believed in what you were doing even if from a distance, andwhat joined us was friendship, a real bond that miles and years couldn’t separate, and it feels like you betrayed all that.”

The wind howled louder now, shaking the windowpanes in their frames, pushing cold air through every crack in the tack room walls, but Natalie didn’t feel it. Her hands were shaking. Her heart thudded somewhere beneath her ribs, too heavy, too loud. In the distance, thunder rumbled over the ridge.

She turned without another word to Olivia. Her boots scuffed against the concrete as she walked out of the room, the door clicking softly closed behind her. She didn’t go back to her cabin. Instead, she veered off toward the side building, the one that housed the staff restrooms and supply lockers. It was empty this time of afternoon, and she was grateful for the solitude. Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The fluorescent light flickered overhead, casting a sterile glow over the tiled walls and cracked mirror. She moved automatically, her body knowing what to do even as her mind screamed to freeze. She locked the door behind her. Reached into the deep pocket of her fleece jacket. Her fingers brushed something small, rectangular, wrapped in crinkling foil.

The pregnancy test. She’d bought it in town two days ago and had carried it with her since. Like a stone in her pocket. Like a secret too big for her to leave anywhere else. She stared at it in her palm for a moment, her breath fogging in the cold air. Then she opened it.

Her hands moved numbly. The test was simple, one line for not pregnant, two for positive. She read the instructions three times anyway, as if repetition would slow the beat of her heart.

Then she did what she had to do. The silence in the bathroom was absolute. She placed the test on the edge of the sink and leaned against the counter, gripping it tightly. Her knuckles went white.

Outside, the storm had begun in earnest. Wind lashed at thetrees. The tin roof rattled above her head. Somewhere far off, a door slammed, and a dog barked nervously. She didn’t look at the test right away. Instead, Natalie sat on the closed lid of the toilet, her elbows resting on her knees, hands cradling her face. The test sat on the edge of the sink, cruelly silent. One minute had passed, maybe less, but it felt like time was dragging its feet just to punish her.

Her mouth was dry. Her chest tight. The storm outside pelted the small frosted-glass window, wind and rain lashing in urgent rhythms, as if the sky itself was unsettled by what was happening inside. She forced herself to breathe. In, out. Don’t panic. But how could she not? Her heart thumped too loudly, too fast, as though it were trying to keep up with the thoughts ricocheting in her head. What if it’s negative? Relief. No. Not relief. Something like disappointment, buried deep beneath the fear.

And what if it’s positive? The word swelled inside her, pregnant, a word she hadn’t dared truly feel since the last time. And even then, it had been a ghost of a thing, a hope she’d barely let take shape before it had slipped away, dismissed as a moment of foolishness.

But now? She wasn’t sure which answer would break her more.

Pregnant.

Not pregnant.

Two sides of a coin she didn’t know how to hold anymore. Her hands went to her stomach reflexively, pressing gently against the soft flatness beneath her sweater. She tried to picture it, something small and forming inside her. The beginning of a heartbeat. A seedling of life.

The image came with a stab of pain. This was supposed to be a joyful thing. The moment that changes everything in a beautiful way. The movie scene where the woman smilesthrough tears, touches her belly, runs to tell the man she loves. But this wasn’t a movie. And she couldn’t run to Mason. She didn’t even know if she wanted to.

Her eyes burned, but she refused to cry. Not yet. She looked up at the ceiling and closed her eyes, trying to find silence in the storm of her mind. And that’s when the memories came, uninvited, sharp-edged.

Giles.

That damn apartment. The marble countertops. The way he used to brush her off with a distracted kiss and always a late-night phone call he never explained. She remembered being late once, just over a week. She’d stood in the bathroom with shaking hands and a test clutched like a lifeline. She’d wanted it so badly to be positive, to mean something. She remembered staring at that single line and feeling her chest cave in, not because she wanted a baby at that moment, but because she’d wanted something that would tie them back together.

Now here she was again.

Only this time, there was no illusion of repair. No fantasy that something broken could be mended by a child. She didn’t want a fix. She didn’t want salvation. She just wanted truth. A future. Something that made sense. A gust of wind rattled the door, and she jumped, her eyes flying to the test still face down on the sink. The minutes had passed now. Surely enough time. She gripped her knees, her palms damp. Still, she couldn’t look. Not yet. Because once she did, there would be no going back. The world would split into before and after.

She let out a trembling breath, lifted her head, and whispered to the empty bathroom, “Please be something I can handle.”

Another breath. Then she stood slowly, her legs stiff from tension, and crossed the small room to the sink. Her fingers reached out. She turned the test over. She stared at the test. Twolines. Bright. Unmistakable. Natalie pressed both hands flat to the counter to keep from falling. Her legs felt watery. Her lungs couldn’t find air.

She was pregnant. Pregnant.

She swallowed hard, her reflection in the mirror pale and stunned. She didn’t cry. She didn’t speak. She just stood there, watching her own face as it folded in on itself, as something ancient and electric passed through her chest like a bolt of lightning.

Her first thought, before anything else, was Mason. His face. His hands. His face when she’d ran away from him. Her heart surged and cracked at the same time. This wasn’t how she’d imagined finding out. Not in a bathroom with bad lighting and cold fingers. Not in the aftermath of silence and fractured trust.

She thought of the first time she had let herself truly imagine a life with him, on the porch, by the fire, when the stars had shimmered overhead, and he’d looked at her like she was something holy. That version of Mason, the one before secrets, before truths, he would have held her hand right now. But this version? She didn’t know.

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