Page 82 of Where I Should’ve Been

Another sob bubbles up from my throat before I can even think the word.

“Bee is sad, but she’ll be okay,” Norah reassures, but when her eyes land on me again, her expression is still one of shock and dismay before realization starts to set in. “Breezy?” My name is tight with question, and I know without even having to investigate further, she knows what I’m beginning to fear the most.

“Are you…? How could you be—?”

I cut her off quickly with a shush, nodding to the toddler in her arms whose favorite pastime these days is repeating everything she hears.

Norah squeezes Autumn in a quick hug and then hustles toward the porch door, opening it just enough to place her daughter down gently and yell at Bennett across the yard. “Ben! Come get your daughter. And please, if you would, watch her responsibly this time.”

It’s a burn as cold as ice, and I’m unavoidably filled with pride at the sound of it. My sweet little Norah, who was a people-pleasing sweetheart when she found my brother tearing his own life apart, has developed a spine of steel. I love to see it.

The handoff goes smoothly, and Bennett is smart enough to tell her he’s sorry for being such an asshole. Norah sort of accepts the apology but mostly shoos him back out the door and on his way with Autumn on his hip now.

“Okay,” she says as the door slams closed behind her, rushing toward the table and sliding into the chair across from mine without delay. “The little ears are gone, so you’d better get talking. I don’t want to assume anything crazy, but I walked in to you puking in my trash can. And now, you’re hanging on by a thread of tears…”

I shake my head, as if I can will away the possibility.

“Breezy,” Norah says and puts both hands on my shoulders. “I’m not a doctor, but you’re acting a lot like a woman who is…” she drops her voice to a whisper “…pregnant.”

And there it is. The word my mind is shouting inside my brain, but I’m trying not to acknowledge.

The word that makes the most sense for my current state of absurdity but would be the biggest mindfuck of all.

The word that has me mentally calculating, When’s the last time I had my period? And When’s the last time I had unprotected sex?

Sadly, I can’t even remember the answer to the first, and the second? Well, let’s just say Tad and I haven’t been the best about using condoms. Frankly, I don’t know if we’ve used one since the first time we forgot about one. And that was weeks and a lot of sex ago.

I’m on birth control, but anyone with a brain knows it’s not an ironclad prevention. It’s why they tell you to use condoms too.

“Breezy, are you pregnant?” Norah whispers the word again.

And sadly, I can’t tell her no in this scenario and actually believe it. Instead, I sigh. Hard. “It’s sure looking like a possibility,” I say, and a laugh that’s dangerously close to a wail escapes my lungs. “Though I imagine I can’t know for sure without a test.”

“Okay, but how? With who?”

I gesture toward the group of hoodlums outside, my eyes widening and my hands tossing up with dramatic effect. “Well, it’s not one of my brothers, so I’m pretty sure it’s the third freaking troublemaker, Rocky Balboa himself out there.”

“Farmer Tad?” she shrieks loudly enough that I wave both of my hands aggressively, suggesting she lower her volume by about thirty decibels.

“Norah! Only the screen is closed!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I just can’t believe you might be pregnant. With child. With Tad Hanson’s child.” She’s whispering again. “I knew you two were spending a lot of time together, and I certainly had my suspicions about you helping out on his farm. I thought maybe you were messing around with him, but I didn’t think you were over there getting pregnant!”

“Yeah, well…” I burst into tears. “You’re not the only one!”

“Oh, Breeze…” Norah’s hand shoots forward, covering mine and squeezing. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

“It doesn’t feel like it’s going to be okay, Norah. I’m lost. Wandering. Completely freaking untethered from everything I’ve ever used to guide me. And now…this. I mean, what if I’m really freaking pregnant with Farmer Tad’s baby?”

Norah snorts. “I just have to know… Do you call him that in bed?”

“Norah!” I chastise, even though the teasing nickname Farm Daddy comes to mind a little too quickly for the grave nature of the situation.

“Okay, okay. You’re right. No sex jokes allowed right now. Instead, we’re going to drive over to Molene, get a pregnancy test, and take it in the supermarket bathroom. After that, we’ll make a plan based on the results.”

“Do we really have to take it in the supermarket bathroom? That seems a little…uncouth.”

“Your city is showing,” Norah says through a laugh, standing from the table and grabbing her purse and keys from the countertop by the fridge. I guess she ditched them there when she walked in on Celebrity Death Match in action. “But we can drive to Josie’s and take it there if you prefer. Clay will be at the bar to open up with Marty, so we’ll have privacy.”