Page 23 of Bred
“Did you just laugh at me?”
“You just keep surprising me.”
“People can do that you know, if you let them in.”
Erik cocked his head and then nodded, but the gesture was resigned. I smiled gently at him. He stood, moving to the window, where he seemed to gaze out into the gray-clouded sky and sheets of rain.
“Just take the test, Wren. He won’t be mad.”
I squeaked in surprise. “What did you say?”
He didn’t turn but shrugged those massive shoulders. “He’s my brother. You’re my…”—he seemed to hesitate but pushed through—“…my family too. I want you to be happy. I know how badly you both want this.”
Something in the way his voice broke made me wonder how much he knew and perhaps how much he himself wanted.
“Erik—” I started, but he cut me off with an exasperated look.
“Take it, Wren. Before you pee your pants.”
Letting out a peal of laughter, I flew down the hall, straight into my bathroom, where I tried to be as dignified as possible as I peed in the tiny cup provided with the test. Then with a flourish, I dropped the test in, counted the allotted seconds, and then tucked it securely back into the strip to marinate.
Then I giggled at the thought of marinating. I was nearly manic now, my blood rushing through my body, making me light-headed and awkward as I pulled up my underwear.
And then I froze.
Because there was blood.
And it turned out I wasn’t late at all.
I didn’t bother stifling the cry that slipped from my mouth. It had been stupid to get excited and hopeful. I knew that. Just like I knew we had time, if only a little, to get pregnant.
I didn’t realize how loud I must’ve been. Or maybe it was because Erik was taking his job of watching over me very, very seriously. But regardless, I didn’t bother stopping the door as Loren’s brother swept into the bathroom, took in my position curled prone on the tile floor, and easily swept me up.
I groaned. “Leave me alone, Erik.”
He snorted, shifting me in his arms only a little as we moved to the bed. Somewhat awkwardly, he attempted to put me down without touching anything sensitive. If I hadn’t been too busy sobbing, I might’ve laughed at the attempts of this giant of a man trying so hard not to touch anything his brother would consider problematic.
But I was too busy. Tears streaked my face as he moved my legs under the comforter, tucking the blankets around me. All that eager, silly happiness from earlier was gone, and I curled in on myself as Erik left the room.
After some time, I must’ve dozed, because I woke up surrounded by a variety of strange things. The first was a box of tampons. Then alongside it, a bag of sour cream potato chips, a bag of Hersey’s Kisses, and a Post-it note. In clear, precise letters, Erik had written:ETA 10:45.
Adrenaline swooped back into my system, chasing away the lingering fogginess from the tear-induced nap. Relief warred with the disappointment still churning my gut. My phone, which was conveniently charging on the nightstand beside me, said that I had only a few minutes until he would be home.
And I would have to tell him.
Shit. Cue more tears. But this time I was smart enough to muffle my tears against my pillow. I didn’t want Erik to come back in. Him seeing me a complete mess on the floor was enough. I didn’t need to scar him even more than he was already.
I’d only just resettled back in bed when I heard the quick steps of who I knew had to be Loren. And for a moment, I fought the urge to make a run for it. Run where? I didn’t know. But seeing him, facing this, was suddenly so painful.
I gathered as much of my courage as possible and put a smile on my face, Loren’s silver hair was so bright in the darkened room. “Loren,” I greeted him nervously.
But I shouldn’t had worried. Loren strode across the space, immediately curling around my body so that he could shift me over on the bed and wrap me even closer.
In one moment, every bit of nerves drained from me as my husband’s heartbeat thumped against my chest, his lips at my ear and his body curled around mine.
I sighed. “Erik told you.”
Loren’s voice was low and rumbling. “He did.”
