Page 4 of The Game Plan
Two Months Ago
“What the hell am I doing?” I grumble to myself as I sit behind the wheel of my car. Flipping the visor down, soft country music croons from the speakers as I stare at my reflection and wonder when everything went wrong.
I barely recognize myself anymore.
My face is rounder, like my body already needs the extra cushion. Raking my fingers through my hair, I tousle the shorter locks, hoping to revive some of the curls. My hair used to cascade down to my lower back with the help of my extensions. People would pass me and give me compliments on how gorgeous I was. Now it barely brushes my shoulders, the ends unfamiliar when I run my fingers through it. The sun-kissed blonde I spent hours at the salon achieving has taken on a darker look with my new shadow root balayage, allowing my regrowth to blend in. These changes aren’t by choice—they’re by necessity.
Salon visits became a luxury I could no longer afford. Not when each purchase had to be justified to make every dollarstretch a little further than before. And since I was no longer a member of the sorority, it felt vain to shell out money on hair color and extensions. I wish I could say I cut it for some bold, life-changing fresh start. Too bad it was because life forced me to simplify.
Trailing my fingertips across my stomach, a subconscious habit I’ve acquired over the last couple of months, I wait to see if I can feel any flutters. When nothing happens, I go back to examining myself one final time. The purple tint below my eyes draws my attention. No matter how much concealer or color corrector I pile on, the dark circles still show. The weight of exhaustion settles heavily in my bones.
At first, the changes were subtle—just a little nausea here, a touch of congestion there. But soon, the inside shifts became impossible to hide. Bloating. Growing. My clothes started to cling, until one day, I couldn’t button my jeans. Then came the loss of balance, the way every movement required more effort. Now there’s no pretending. No hiding. My once-toned stomach curves outward—undeniable proof of the choices I’ve made. The ones I can’t take back.
I swallow, gripping the steering wheel to ground myself. No one warns you about how emotional pregnancy is. I want to cry at least seventy-five times a day.
My phone buzzes in the cupholder, distracting me from my spiral.
Ridge: Make it?
Exhaling slowly, I blink away a sudden sting in my nose.You will not cry. Not today.Just seeing his name on my phone makes me want to cry.
Most girls grow up thinking their mom hung the moon and are desperate to be like them. I never wanted that. I spent years swearing I would never become Luann Holycross. Shelived life fast, always making decisions without thinking about the consequences. I swore I’d never let a man dictate my life. I wouldn’t let my life spiral out of control. I wouldn’t make reckless decisions without analyzing all of the possibilities. I wouldn’t become stranded in life’s dark web.
And yet here I am—pregnant, alone, staring down a future I never saw coming. A future like my mother’s.
The worst part is, I’m afraid I’ve already failed this baby.
I stare at my reflection, looking for any traces of the girl I used to know. The girl with the plan she crafted at thirteen, when she moved in with her aunt. The one who begged God to give her stability and control over her own life. The one who isn’t supposed to be sitting in her car, fighting off nausea and exhaustion, and wondering if she’ll ever find a piece of the fairy tale she used to read about.
My phone buzzes again.
Ridge: Answer me or I’m driving to Texas.
Exhaling a shaky breath, I pick up my phone and respond. For a brief moment, I let myself imagine Ridge driving to Texas. I want him beside me in this so I don’t have to face it alone. But I refuse to be selfish and ruin his life too.
I made it about fifteen minutes ago.
Ridge: Fifteen minutes ago? You should have been there hours ago.
Oh, yeah. I made it back to CTU around two this morning. I thought you meant…never mind.
Ridge: Sav, where are you?
Graduation…
Ridge: Savvy…why are you doing this to yourself?
Because I promised a boy we’d graduate together.
Tossing my phone in my purse, I switch off the ignition. Climbing out of the car, I reach over the center console and grab the gift bag. I’m ten minutes away from making a huge mistake, but I can’t go any longer without seeing him. Three years ago, we made a promise that we’d get to graduation together, and then our dreams would come true.
My plans may have gone off script, but I refuse to let him do this alone. It’s one promise I won’t break.
The walk from the parking lot feels like it lasts forever. Sweat gathers around my hairline, droplets escaping down my back. The early afternoon sun cascades down on me, heating the temperature to a balmy eighty-five degrees. With all of my trips to Kentucky and Ohio over the last couple of weeks, I’ve grown accustomed to the spring weather in the upper sixties and low seventies.
Crowds of people have already started to gather outside the building, signaling the end of the graduation ceremony. I hope I haven’t missed my chance to see him. And I hope he still plans to meet me in the spot we promised each other years ago.
Climbing the steps, I pant as I reach the top. Instinctively, I rub tiny circles across my bump. Flutters follow my movement, and I can’t help the smile breaking free. No matter how I feelabout this pregnancy and how scared I am, I’ll never get tired of feelingmybaby moving inside of me. It’s such a powerful feeling. I’m growing life.
