Page 6 of Accidentally Falling
“Are you pregnant?”
It was just the one night.
With Jude.
There’s no way.
No freaking way.
My stomach rolls again as Jude sets our glasses down in front of us, tension radiating off him, his eyes boring into me yet still I can’t look.
I can’t.
Because if we make eye contact I’m liable to blurt outI think I’m pregnantand we absolutely do not need that. At all.
Especially because the thought never even crossed my mind until Lana mentioned it, and now I can’t remember if I had my period or not. When did I change birth controls? Did I skip a cycle by accident?
Bile rises in the back of my throat, and I know if I don’t leave now, I’m going to make a scene. And I don’t need to puke in front of the brutally gorgeous man who owned me when I needed so badly to feel.
And forget.
Looks like I did both.
“Nothing for me, thanks,” I tell Jude with a tight smile after everyone tells him their order. “Guys, I think I’m going to headhome. Maybe it’s like a twenty-four-hour bug or something. I think I just need some sleep.”
Waving off their concerns, I promise to text everyone later and slip out of the booth, once again ignoring the way I can feel Jude’s eyes on me as I leave the bar.
But I can’t think about it because there’s a chance I just might change our lives forever.
And with that in mind, I race to the edge of the parking lot and throw up into the bushes.
Shit.
4
JUDE
There’s no amount of deep breathing that’s going to save the glass in my hand from being crushed. Rage and frustration course through my veins as I watch Arden practically run out of my bar.
The glass in my hand squeaks and the regular sitting across from me suddenly gets real interested in the T-shirts pinned to the ceiling.
Swallowing hard, I switch the glass to my other hand, clenching and unclenching my fist before pouring the drinks for the table behind Arden’s friends. If I thought she was avoiding me before, there’s no question now.
“No, I have not been having sex.”
Her response had been so adamant.
At first, I’d wanted to puff out my chest and bask in the declaration that she hadn’t been with anyone since me. The desire to claim her in front of everyone was so potent I could almost taste it—just like I’d tastedher.
But then I’d let the words settle in, her denial feeling a whole lot like rejection not just of anyone but of me.
Deacon and I had gone to Vetted Paws last week, and while the dogs had been great, I hadn’t found one that I really connected with. Sorren, the co-owner and Marine Corps vet, had been confident that he could find me a match with a little time.
Begrudgingly, I filled out the application, but now it seems pretty fortuitous.
Since I most definitely won’t be getting the girl.
Do I want the girl?
