by Cari Quinn
She found what was left of the fruit and some yeasty bread that was left in a basket by the caretaker. The bread tasted amazing and she buttered three pieces before she felt full enough to stop. She popped a piece of pineapple in her mouth and immediately spit it out.
What the hell?
She tried a strawberry and that tasted fine. She picked up a piece of the pineapple and sniffed—absolutely fresh. She nibbled off a corner of the wedge she’d sliced and nearly gagged. It was completely sour even though it smelled sweet. Possibly a little too sweet.
She made a pit stop in the bathroom and brushed her teeth, glanced at the clock and winced. It was nearly eleven in the morning, but they’d seen the sunrise before they’d gone to sleep. She climbed onto the bed and maneuvered her way under his arm. He rolled into her, cuddling into her back without waking. The man never had trouble sleeping. Harper smoothed her hand lightly over his wide forearms, unable to shut her brain off.
As tired as she was, sleep just wouldn’t come. She should Google her symptoms, but she didn’t want to move and wake Deacon. Two trips out of bed would be pushing her luck. She was rarely sick with even a head cold. So why was food suddenly her…
She stopped stroking, her hand clamping on his wrist.
No.
There was no way.
She ducked under his arm, her heartbeat filling her ears and trying to blast its way out of her chest. She glanced over her shoulder, but Deacon flopped onto his stomach and put his head under a pillow.
She padded over to her purse and took out her phone, flicking through her screens until she came to her My Days app. She’d always been as regular as the sun, but with stress and living on the road she’d gotten in the habit of keeping track of her period.
Who wanted to be stuck in Albuquerque without a tampon?
It had to be just a few days. She was just being…six weeks late.
She thumbed back through the month.
No.
She had to have forgotten to put it down. She backed up into the fat little club chair at the end of their bed. Her feet collapsed out from under her and she slithered to the floor.
Pregnant?
She cradled her hand over her flat belly, then curled her knees up into her chest. She couldn’t. They hadn’t even been together long enough to let the ink on their freaking marriage license dry.
She was twenty-three years old, for fuck’s sake.
There was no baby in the plan.
She was on the pill, goddammit.
Ninety-nine percent effective unless it’s against the super sperm of one Deacon McCoy. What the hell was he shooting, for God’s sake? How did he find the way into her freaking cache of eggs?
The eggs that were supposed to stay right there for at least a few…hell, maybe more than a few years.
She brought her hand over her mouth. They hadn’t even discussed children. Did he even want them?
Shouldn’t that have been a conversation beforehand, Harper Lee?
Fuck off.
She pressed her forehead into her knees, wrapping her arms around her shins.
Did she even want them?
She rolled onto her knees and peeked over the footboard of the bed. Deacon was sprawled out, the sheet pooling around his hips, leaving a wide expanse of deeply tanned back. His armor-like tattoo making him look more warrior than killer bass master of a band.
Her eyes traveled to his wide, palmed hand with the long elegant fingers. Strong, sure hands that would protect and cherish a baby as surely as he did her. Instantly, she knew that.
The gentle giant of a man would make the most amazing father.
He rolled onto his side, his arm flung out looking for her. She quickly jumped to her feet and tucked a pillow beside him. He wound his way around the pillow, and a light snore told her he was still down for the count.
You don’t know for sure, Harper Lee. Calm yourself.
She grabbed her purse and found her notebook. She scribbled off a note to tell him she went for a walk and left it in front of the clock beside the bed.
No, she didn’t know if she was pregnant. And the only way to tell was to get a freaking test. They were in the most remote area of Galveston, but there had to be a drugstore around there somewhere.
It was better to know before she worried Deacon. Before she worried herself for that matter. They’d both been overloaded with stress for the last few months.
She just needed to go and get a test.
Or three.
Just in case.
She looked back at Deacon. She’d go, get the test, and then she’d deal.
Jenn. DJ.
She’d know.
Harper quickly tugged on shorts and a t-shirt and flips before rushing out the back and down the beach. The ten minute walk felt eternal, but finally the fin from Rhianna’s mermaid tail sign came into sight.
She climbed the sandy steps and found a dark haired woman behind the bar.
Shit.
“Hi.”
“Hi there. Whatya have?”
Tequila.
Oh, my sweet God.
Harper collapsed onto the bar stool and put her head between her legs. What if she was pregnant? She’d drank enough tequila to do permanent damage to her own head, what had it done to… She put her hand over her middle. God.
Flashes of health class warnings from school filled her brain. Fetal Alcohol Syndrome? How much drinking would cause that? How much had she drank since she’d gotten pregnant? How many times had she shared a bottle of wine with Deacon at the end of the night or with Annie after a shitty party?
“Miss?”
Harper shot off the stool and knocked over chairs and God knew what else to get to the bathroom. She slammed onto her knees and everything she’d managed to eat came up.
A knock came at her door. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Harper said and felt another heave tighten her belly. Luckily she hadn’t really eaten anything. And she certainly wouldn’t be having chocolate ice cream anytime soon.
She heard the faucet run and then a hand with paper towels came under the door.
“Thank you.” Harper put the wet towel over her face then along the back of her neck before standing up and opening the door.
The woman with dark hair was leaning back against the counter. “Well, you don’t look drunk.”
Harper went to the sink at the far end of the counter. “No, I haven’t had anything to drink.”
“Either that’s a truly shitty case of food poisoning, or you have yourself a problem, darlin’.”
“Look. I don’t want to be rude, but…”
“Mind my own business?”
Harper met the woman’s shrewd blue eyes in the mirror. “Yeah.”
The woman’s eyebrow raised. “You come in my bar and toss your cookies, I kinda make it my business. Especially if you’re of the pregnant variety. You do what you want on your own time, but I don’t serve pregnant ladies here.”
Harper leaned heavily on the sink. “Oh, crap.” Her vision blurred and the sob came out of nowhere.
“Ah, hell.” The woman backed up and ripped off more paper towels. “Okay, honey. Relax.”
Harper reached for the paper towels. “I’m sorry,” she said around a hiccup. She blew out a ragged breath and sucked another deep one in. “I just figured out I was pregnant. I don’t know if I am for sure. I just got the clue and I—”
I just unknowingly tried to drown it in tequila the other night? Was that what she was supposed to say? Horrified, she bent over and put her head between her knees again.
“Okay, okay.” The woman took her by the elbow and led her toward the door. “Done puking?”
“I think so.”
She pulled her into the dining room and off to the deck outside. “Elise,” the woman shouted. “Get me a glass of water for our friend, huh?”
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
“Honey, you came into my bar and had a little panic attac
k. It’s no big deal.”
“I’m Harper.”
“Rhianna. I own this place. You can call me Rhi though.”
Harper collapsed into one of the chairs and tipped her head back. Tears were still leaking from her eyes, for God’s sake. “I’m sorry. I’ll be okay in a minute.”
“Is there a reason you came tear-assing into my bar?”
Harper leaned forward until her forehead was touching the table. “I was looking for DJ.”
“Oh, so you’re one of her friends?”
“No, not really. I don’t know why I came down here exactly. I’m on my honeymoon. I left my husband sleeping and just had to get here to talk to DJ. I don’t know anyone else.” She drew in a stuttering breath. “I don’t have anyone to call. God, how freaking pathetic is that?” The only person she was close enough to talk to about this was exactly who she couldn’t tell. Jazz would lose her damn mind if she told her. And how could she expect her to keep a secret like this? It affected the entire band, not just them.
Then there was Deacon. He would kill her if she told anyone else before him.
No. She had no one to tell. She could call her mother, but they hadn’t been very close in the last five years.
What the hell did that say about her?
That she had no real girlfriends in all of this? She laid her cheek on the table, grateful for the cool surface. “DJ was just the first person I thought of.”
“Okay.”
Harper sat up. “Look, I know it doesn’t make any sense. I panicked. I don’t know if I’m pregnant for sure, but I don’t know where anything is around here. We’ve been holed up…”
“Doing what got you into trouble in the first place?”
Harper put her head down in her arms with a muffled scream. Yes. They’d been freaking screwing like there was no tomorrow. And before that, it was in desperate late night moments. “How could this have happened? I’m so good about my birth control. We just got married, for God’s sake. I just started a freaking business.”
Rhianna closed her hand over her arm. “Honey, you gotta take it down a notch. You’re going to hyperventilate.”
“Of course I am.” She popped her head up to stare into the sympathetic blue eyes of the woman across from her. “I can’t be pregnant.”
“Did you do the math?”
“Yes.” She rubbed her eyes. “I’m probably six weeks-ish.”
“And you didn’t notice?”
Harper sat back in her chair. “New business.”
“Right.” Rhi drummed her fingers on the table. “And it isn’t just stress?”
“I don’t know. I’ve had weird symptoms for the last few days. I just feel off, you know?” She sighed. “I don’t want to freak out my husband if I’m just being a basket case.”
Or herself. Because she was so freaking out.
“I just figured she could help. I’m so dumb.”
Rhi laughed. “No, you’re not. DJ’s good people. A bit of a pervert, but that’s why we love her.”
Harper snorted. “Yeah, too true.” She was used to perverts. No wonder she latched onto DJ since they got there.
“She isn’t on today.”
Harper sagged.
“But I’ve got her cell. So let’s give it a little ring, huh?”
“I don’t want to take her away from her day off. I’ll just call a cab and go into town.”
“Tell you what? If she’s not around, I’ll take you.”
“I can’t impose. I shouldn’t even do this to DJ. I just—”
“You panicked. I totally get it. I did the same thing once upon a time.”
Harper clutched her hands together. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t have a husband in the picture. And I’d just started this place.” Rhi fiddled with her phone.
Harper’s stomach dropped. “Oh, wow.”
“It’s an option, Harper. You’re young. You have plenty of time to have kids. Maybe it’s just not the right time.”
“I—we haven’t even talked about having…” God, she couldn’t even say it. What business did she even have saying it? She could barely take care of herself these days.
Cripes, they didn’t even have a place of their own.
“Okay, I can see you spiraling. Let me call DJ.” Rhi flicked her phone on, and a second later she had it up to her ear.
Harper stood, folding her arms over her middle as she paced the length of the outdoor patio. The ocean lured her to the edge of the deck as she listened to Rhianna talk in low tones to DJ. She leaned on the fat, weathered railing, watching the waves eat their way up the beach.
Rhi came up to stand next to her. “She’s on her way.”
Harper clasped her fingers together, bringing them to her mouth. She nodded because there wasn’t much else she could do.
Rhi squeezed her shoulder and left her alone. Harper wasn’t sure how long she stood there watching the tide inch its way up the beach. It felt like she was frozen and everything around her was moving so freaking fast.
Seven
Just Breathe
“All right, kiddo. What’s this I hear, you got yourself knocked up?”
Harper looked over her shoulder. DJ stood there with her blonde chin-length hair pushed back with fat sunglasses. She was makeup free and looked about sixteen without her bartender uniform on. “Hey.”
“That stud has super sperm, huh?”
She let out a laugh that was half sob, half hiccup and turned back to the ocean. Crap. She was not going to cry again.
“Hey now.” DJ rushed forward and hooked her arm through hers. “I’m glad you came looking for me. We’re going to go do the girl thing and get a pregnancy test and pee on that motherfucker. I have awesome karma. If we don’t want a blue plus sign, I can hit you up with some crazy mojo.”
Harper sniffed. “I’m sorry to drag you in here on your day off. I just ran out of the cottage and came here. I didn’t know what else to do,” she whispered.
“Well, you’re in luck. I have a shitbox of a car waiting outside and we have a drugstore less than five minutes away. Even better, my apartment is right around the corner from this fantabulous drugstore. You can pee on the stick and we’ll figure shit out.”
Harper nodded. “Okay.”
DJ flung her arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “Every woman has had a pregnancy scare.”
Not this woman. Of course Deacon had been the only man she’d ever had unprotected sex with.
DJ steered her off the deck and inside. Harper grabbed her purse, letting DJ lead her out the front to her car. Just like any coastal town, rental houses and hotels crowded the streets right near the water. DJ took a few side roads then they came to a major intersection.
Signs for restaurants and fast food speared up from the street. Congested lanes reminded her that she had no idea how long she’d left Deacon. She dug into her purse, and no message was waiting for her. Was he still sleeping? She didn’t even remember what she’d put on the scribbled note for him as to why she was gone.
“Cut it out.”
Harper looked to DJ. “Can hear my mental freakout, huh?”
“It’s as loud as an air horn.” She swung into a small parking lot. “Test first, then we figure out a game plan.”
As they parked, Harper’s nails dug into her thighs.
“C’mon, Harper.”
She nodded, but couldn’t make herself move her legs.
DJ came around and opened her door, reaching in to drag her out. “I didn’t take you for a coward.” DJ’s eyebrows rose behind her large shades. “There we go. There’s that attitude. In we go.”
Harper hooked her purse over her shoulder and wrapped her arms tight at her chest. They walked inside. Lights were insanely bright and all the aisles were perfectly marked. No need to ask for directions to the contraception and pregnancy test aisle. Did they do that on purpose? Hey…let’s give them a reminder if they don’t use condoms that an entirely different little box
was in their future?
Why the hell didn’t she listen?
DJ walked ahead of her and stood in front of all the different ones. “Okay.” She tapped on three different brands. “These are the ones I’ve used.”
Harper’s eyes widened. “All of them?”
DJ lifted a shoulder. “I had one scare and I didn’t believe it. All three of them said yes.”
Harper wanted to ask what the answer had been. What had she done? Was there a little kid waiting to greet her at DJ’s apartment?
Had she given it away?
Had an abortion?
Lost it?
With shaking fingers, Harper took the box that she saw on a million commercials. Early Pregnancy Test, First Response, the idiot proof test Clear Blue Easy….God, there were a half dozen on one row. Let alone the other ones for ovulation and pre-screenings. She snatched three of the main name brands off the shelf and stalked up to the counter before she chickened out.
The woman at the counter didn’t say a word. Harper must have full-fledged panic attack ahead in her eyes or something. She didn’t even hear the amount, just swiped her bank card, and took the bag out the front door. DJ ran after her.
“Hey there, psycho-girl. Wait up.”
“I just want to get it over with. Please, DJ.”
Her new friend sighed and simply nodded, opening her door and starting the car.
The ride to DJ’s house was quiet. She could see the pink and blue boxes through the thin plastic of the bag. Easy to do, quick answers, smiling babies, and a wildly grinning woman stared back at her.
Where was the box with the terrified woman like her? The one who had rage and disappointment in her eyes because she’d been stupid? Where were the boxes with the shaking hands and women curled up in a fetal position?
Jesus. Did she have to think of fetal?
She cupped her hand over her middle and closed her eyes.
“We’re here.”
Harper blinked her eyes open, realizing that they’d stopped. She clambered out of the car and followed DJ up a set of cement and iron stairs. It was a typical apartment complex. Exactly like one she’d lived in with three girls while in culinary school.
