Page 177 of Josephine and Clay

“Keep an eye on them,” I mutter.

He licks my wrist.

That almost does it.

Damn dog.

I straighten before my chest can cave in over a red heeler with terrible manners. And then I leave.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Josephine

AUGUST 12TH

Pain wakes me before the sun.

Not the dull pulling ache I’ve spent the last few weeks pretending is normal while my body tackles the biological equivalent of an extreme group project.

This is different.

A deep cramp drags low through my abdomen, snapping my eyes open as my hand flies to my stomach.

I lie perfectly still, listening to my own breathing.

Then another cramp tears through me.

Air leaves my lungs in a hard rush as my body curls inward around the pain before I can stop it.

“Oh shit.”

The words scrape out quietly into the dark room.

Every horrifying medical possibility I’ve ever learned lines up inside my head all at once.

I press both hands over my stomach and force myself to breathe slowly. Panic isn't useful. It isn't clinical, and it has never solved a single problem in the history of medicine.

Unfortunately, panic doesn’t care about my professional opinion.

The pressure returns, cinching tighter through my abdomen.

My eyes sting.

“No,” I whisper.

It sounds ridiculous, sitting alone in the dark arguing with my own uterus.

“No. We are absolutely not doing this today.”

I shove myself upright too fast and instantly regret it. The room tilts sideways. Nausea rolls through me hard enough to bring sweat across the back of my neck.

My phone sits on the nightstand.

I reach for it and smack it straight onto the floor.

“Perfect.”

Of course this would be the moment my coordination gives up and hitchhikes out of Oregon with Clay.