Page 91 of Eco-Activist's Mountain Men
Thankfully, I spy him at the other end of the store, engaged in conversation with some other guy that it seems he knows. Good. That'll keep him occupied. I don't think I've ever felt so guilty or so stressed when purchasing stuff before. I almost laugh out loud. It's only a pregnancy test kit for fuck's sake. But still, I am glad he's occupied with his friend. I slow down, out of breath. Part One of the plan is pretty much accomplished. Part Two will be when I get home and take the tests.
Back at the lodge, I dump my newly-purchased clothes in my bedroom and lock myself in the bathroom. I set the Clearblue box on the counter like it might explode. This is it—I'm about to find out whether or not I'm a mommy.
My hands are clammy, my mouth dry, but I force myself to open the box, read the instructions—twice, to make certain—and follow them to the letter. I set the stick on the edge of the sink and set the timer on my phone, telling myself it's probably nothing. Just a headache and a late period caused by stress. After what feels like an eternity but is actually only thirty seconds, nothing is shown in the window. Good. A minute is reached. A minute thirty. Two minutes—I must be in the clear. Then, at the two minutes and thirty seconds mark, and just as I am about to celebrate, a single word appears: Pregnant. My knees go weak. This can't be happening. I grab the First Response box, barely glancing at the instructions this time, and do it all over again. The results come up more quickly this time. A plus sign and the word "Yes". Same answer. No room for doubt, no way to un-know it now.
What have I done?
Even if we'd all agreed on wanting a child, this would hardly be the moment.
Distractedly, I reach for my phone, vaguely wondering if I should call my mother. Tell her what's happened. But we just don't have that sort of relationship.
It's then that I notice the message signal flashing, and I recall that on the way home, my phone had pinged and sent its warning vibration through my hoodie to my chest. I hadn't been able to get it out to read whilst we're moving, then of course it had completely escaped my mind, what with everything else.
Idly, I view the text message. My hands go to my mouth. Oh no. This isn't good. This is not goodat all. It's from Tim Collier.
You've ruined my life. Say your goodbyes. Tomorrow I will kill you.
CHAPTER 26
Luke
"Calm down, calm down." Jack’s voice is steady, that old Ranger tone he uses when a situation threatens to spin out of control. He’s got both palms raised, trying to ground an almost hysterical Luna. "Now… what’s this all about? I didn’t understand a word of what you just told me. Something about a death threat and a baby? Take a deep breath, slow it down, and tell us again."
We’re all gathered in the kitchen at her panicked request. She’d just blurted out some wild, tangled mess about pregnancy tests, babies, and someone wanting to kill her. Even for us, that’s a hell of a trifecta.
"Okay, alright," she says, slumping into a chair at last. At least the restless pacing stops—watching her bounce around was giving me a headache.
She takes one long breath. Then another. Then starts again.
"Okay, so… last couple of days, I was surprised not to have my period, because, well, the pill usually does a great job of regulating things. You can set your clock by it, you know?"
We all nod, though I doubt any of us—four bachelors without a kid between us—have much clue what she’s really talkingabout. But she looks so anxious, so fragile in this moment, that nodding seems the only decent response.
"Well, I didn’t think too much about it until I started getting headaches. Did all the usual things—Advil, lots of water—but nothing helped. Then yesterday morning, I woke up nauseated. That’s when it hit me… I might actually be pregnant."
"Pregnant?" Eric blurts, his voice way too loud, his face gone white.
"Shush, Eric," Jack cuts in, voice sharp. "Let her finish."
"Yeah, but I knew I couldn’t be—because I take the pill." She tosses her hair back, nervous energy all over her movements. "But then I thought about it… and realized I missed two nights. Both times I’d been unconscious—first when Luke carried me in, then after I fell in the canopy. So, I counted my pills. Sure enough, there were two extras." She fiddles with her hair again, avoiding our eyes.
"When I went into town with Toby, I grabbed a test kit. Did it when I got home and… well…" Her voice breaks. "It says I’m pregnant. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I told you it was safe, I believed it was safe, and now I’ve ruined everything and—" Her words dissolve into sobs.
Toby’s beside her, pulling her into his arms with that easy physical warmth of his. "Hey, Princess, it’s okay. Happens all the time. Lots of women get pregnant. You didn’t ruin anything."
"Yeah," I add quietly, my voice rough but steady. "Pregnancy isn’t the end of the world. Odds are, it’ll be a healthy baby. And I know this much—you’ll be a damn good mother."
"But… who’s the father?" she chokes. "I’ve been with all of you. It could be any of you."
That hits like a log dropped straight into my gut. We all stare—at her, at each other, back again. Obvious, yeah, but hearing it said out loud makes it real. My pulse thuds in my ears. Could be Eric. Could be Jack. Could be Toby. Could be… me.
Toby whistles low, his face a mix of shock and disbelief. "Wait, wait. You’re saying I might be your kid’s dad? That’s what you’re telling me?"
"Yeah." She risks a glance at him, then drops her eyes again, voice small. "That’s exactly what I’m saying."
Toby sits back, running both hands through his hair, muttering under his breath, trying to process.
Then, out of nowhere, Eric clears his throat. "I don’t mind being the father."
