Page 66 of Pinch
“I’ve got Peepee, so don’t worry about her.” She lifts thelittle dog off the couch, and I take a beat to give her little brown head a pet before heading upstairs.
Sitting at my desk in my bedroom, post-shower, I rub my fingers against my forehead still thinking. My chest is tight, and I don’t like the nervous path my logical brain is following.
Mom said I’ve always been so analytical, working out problems, finding solutions. She said I get it from her, the need to have an answer. Knowledge is power, but it’s also security.
Only this knowledge is terrifying me.
After our reckless Halloween hook-up in which I did something I never do, I went straight to the gynecologist and got a fresh box of birth control patches. I’d been a little careless about changing and reapplying them, but after that night, I’d been a “perfect” user.
Still, the painful knot in my throat reminds me I hadn’t always been.
I pull up the calendar on my phone, counting the weeks since Halloween. Friday will be five weeks, and I haven’t had a period since…
My face flashes cold then hot, and I slide off my chair onto the floor of my bedroom. The first of October was my last period. Bending my knees, I press my eyes against the backs of my hands.Don’t borrow trouble, Haddy… Don’t borrow trouble.
After allowing myself a ten-second freak-out, I straighten my shoulders and crawl across the floor to my bed. Lifting the blankets I climb under them and hug my knees to my chest.
It’s dark when I feel him join me. His large hand slides to the hem of my sleep shirt, going under it to cover my bareskin. Most nights I relax into how good his touch feels. Most nights it leads to us having quiet-as-possible sex.
Tonight, I’m too panicked to relax into his embrace. I can tell he notices my stiffness when his hand moves from caressing my bare stomach to holding my shoulder.
“Something wrong?” His voice is warm, concerned.
Pulling the blanket to my mouth, I swallow a sob.
Clearing my throat, I manage to whisper, “I was sick this evening. I think I have a stomach bug.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.” He rises up on his elbow, but I don’t dare look at him.
I know if I meet his gaze, he’ll see the fear in my eyes, and I don’t want to have this conversation with him until I’m certain. It could still be bad chicken salad.
Oh, God, please let it be bad chicken salad.
“I don’t want to get in your face in case it’s a virus.”
“Dang.” He rolls onto his back with a deep exhale that I feel all the way to my toes. “We had a great game tonight. Another win…”
“That’s so good.” I reach behind me to give his rock-hard forearm a squeeze.
Nothing would be better than to give myself to him, pretend my mind isn’t paralyzed by dread. It’s not going to happen tonight.
He rolls toward me again, pressing his lips to the back of my shoulder. “Want me to go?”
“Not really, but I think you’d better. To be safe.”
His lips press against my arm, and my eyes squeeze shut as he hesitates. “Okay, but if you need anything, send me a text. I’ll sleep with my phone in my hand.”
“I expect I’ll sleep all night. Don’t worry.”
“That’s kind of not possible, Princess.” His voice is so gentle, it aches.
One more kiss to the top of my shoulder and he quietly slips out, leaving me to toss and turn all night.
18
Gavin
Haddy is not okay.
