Handful by C.R. Grissom

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Kirsty

Istare at my phone. Everest is one of a kind. My heart begins to calm down. The ironic thing is the world didn’t cease to exist because there were two lines on the test. I’m me. I’ve been chasing after my goals like a lab rat in a maze. I’ve been constantly making moves based on capturing elusive cheese and driving myself into the ground by following the path I believed I wanted.

Do I want to be an epidemiologist?

Yes.

Does that have to happen exactly according to a plan someone else sketched out for me?

No.

Do I want children?

Yes.

Do I want them now?

No. Yes.

It doesn’t really matter anymore. I’ve made my decision and shared it with Everest. He called us a team and said we’ll get through this together. We’ll be bound to each other for the next two decades by the child we created. How do I feel about that? There’s a secret part of me that thinks we were meant to be. Durnin forever love.

Bullshit. Sure, I’m a Durnin, but Everest is a McBride. The rule can’t apply to him, only me. Am I merely convincing myself this is truth due to the two lines that declared my pregnancy? Everest said he was relieved I wouldn’t consider alternatives. Is he lying?

No. He’s not someone who would lie.

However, wanting to be a team about the baby doesn’t mean he loves me. And how the hell do I find out: straight out ask him?

I shudder.

I step out of the elevator and onto Collin’s floor. There’s activity outside his room down the corridor. A lot of medical personnel hovering outside his door. I start to run, heart in my throat. I skid to a stop, breathless, and manage to ask, “What happened?”

The nurse nearest me confides, “He’s getting off the floor. He’s ready to go into a regular room.”

Dad pokes his head out the doorway. His face beaming smiles while tears glisten in his eyes. “He’s recovering, Kirsty. He’s on the mend.”

Relief makes me stagger. I place my hand on the wall to keep myself upright. He’s going to be okay. Thank God.

Mom steps out of the room and hugs me tight. “You should think about going back to school.” Then she drops her voice to a whisper near my ear. “And tell your dad your news before you go.”

I nod, incapable of forming words. He’ll have to know. I won’t be a coward and take off without telling him in person. Now that Collin is in the clear, I have to get back to my life. Finish the school year and figure out what the hell I’m going to do once the little one arrives.

It would be easier to live here with my parents. But they have obligations, too. They have work and Collin. Especially now that Collin was hurt, who knows what lies ahead for them? Physical therapy will fill their schedules. Maybe I should stay and help with Collin, prepare for the birth of my child?

Our child.

It wouldn’t be fair to Everest to move away and put an entire country between him and his child. No. I can’t do that to him. I have to remember we’re a team. If that changes, I can adjust my plans. We’ll figure this out. We have to.

Dad steps out of the room phone in hand. “Have to call the troops and let them know they’ll be able to visit later today.”

“That’s great, Dad. I’ll want to see the family before I leave.”

His eyebrows draw together. “Of course. Do you need help with a flight?”

“I’ve got this. Thanks, Dad.” I step into his arms and hug him tight. “Do you think we can have a minute after you call your brothers?”

He takes a step back to look at my face. “Why don’t we talk before I make the calls?”

My hands go numb. “Sure, let’s take a walk outside.”

He puts his arm around my shoulders. “Sure thing.” The arm around me quivers and I know he suspects something might be wrong.

We’re quiet on the way down the elevator to the first floor. We make our way to a nearby bench in front of the hospital. Deserted now with the wind blowing hard and the temperature hovering in the low forties.

Dad clears his throat. “You know you can tell me anything. I’m going to support you no matter what. If you want to quit school, if you’re homesick—I’ll support whatever you need.”

I wish I was homesick. I wish it was as simple as that. I’ve got to tear off the bandage and give it to him straight. “I’m pregnant.”

Dad’s shoulders slump. “Okay. Give me a minute.” He stalks away to pace. Five steps in one direction. Reverse direction. Repeat.

I’m in agony. I hate disappointing Daddy. My hands shake and I press them against my thighs. Waiting.

He joins me at the bench. He pulls me into his arms. “I love you.”

When I start to cry, he rubs my back. “Don’t cry. It’ll be okay. Are you in love with him?”

I nod.

“Good. And he’s in love with you?” he asks cautiously.

I shrug, my tears falling faster and harder. I hiccup, which reminds me of Faith. What I wouldn’t do to have her with me right this minute. Then I sniffle. “I don’t know.”

Dad pulls away from me to stare into my gaze. “You’re a Durnin. The heart knows,” he says with a touch of exasperation.

I laugh. I can’t help it. “Dad, forgive my French, but that’s bullshit. That’s your heart convincing your brain. You can’t know for sure.”

He sighs. “How did he react when you told him the news?”

I let out a noisy breath. “He said he supported my decision and that we’re a team. We’d figure out things together.”

“Hmm.” His face is absolutely blank.

Dad’s noncommittal sound forces me to defend Everest. “He was relieved I didn’t want to explore alternatives.”

Dad nods. “Yeah, well.”

Now I’m pissed off. “What do you mean ‘yeah, well’? Eric offered his support. He wants to keep his little linebacker and the mother of his child safe. Ha! What do you say to that?”

“I wouldn’t dare offer an opinion. Move home. I’d love to have my grandchild and my firstborn with me.”

He’s playing devil’s advocate, and I calm down. “No, Daddy. I can’t do that to him. It’s not fair.”

He pulls me into a hug. “I agree. However, if he doesn’t love you, and you want to come home, you’re always welcome here.”

“Thanks, but I already knew that.”

“Of course you did. I didn’t raise a fool. Maybe a stubborn young woman, but not foolish in the least. Linebacker, huh? What if she wants to play soccer?”

I laugh. “Or rule the world.”

*

Two days later—aftereight solid hours of waiting stand-by for a single seat—I boarded a plane. Direct flights weren’t an option, but I was able to get a flight with only one connection in Denver. I sent Everest and Faith a group text from my seat to let them know I was on my way, and when the plane was due to arrive. And promptly turned off my phone.

I didn’t want to obsess over which one of them might be at the airport when I landed.

Hilarious, because I can’t think of anything else. Faith will go, unless Everest asks her not to.

Will he?

The fasten seat belt sign pings throughout the cabin. A perky voice informs us we are on final approach and will land in San Jose slightly ahead of schedule. The temperature, the captain reports, hovers at a moderate seventy degrees. I still can’t get over the fact it’s nearly Halloween and the temps remain warm, back home that’s unthinkable.

I fidget with my seat belt. It’s an excuse to press my hand against my flat belly and its unexpected, rice-grain-sized occupant. My breasts are tender and my tummy rather sore, and I resolve to try to eat something once we land. I can no longer skip meals. I have to be more careful. I wonder how long I’ll feel like I’m on the cusp of having a period? Mom said her breasts and tummy felt tender throughout her first trimester.

The price of motherhood, I guess.

I’ve made an appointment at the Campus Wellness Center. There’s a GP on-site and an OB/GYN who comes to the clinic twice each month. I’ll see the GP on Tuesday, two days from today. And I’ll get the required referral once the GP confirms my pregnancy.

I’d hugged Collin good-bye and promised I’d be back in the summer. My parents admonished me to keep in touch, take care of myself, and my little passenger. We haven’t made plans around the birth, but we have time. My parents have no idea how much our health insurance will cover Collin’s hospital bills.

I’m still covered by their plan, thank God, but not the baby, we don’t think. Mom has to call the insurance company to get information on coverage.

I can’t spend the holidays at home this year. The cost of this round-trip ticket obliterated my holiday travel budget. I have to pay Faith back for the first ticket, and I’d turned in my round-trip tickets for Christmas in order to get back to San Jose.

The landing gear drops below me. Almost home.

It takes forever to get off the plane. This is the part I dislike most about travel. Waiting while people jump into the aisle before the crew announces it’s okay. I remain seated. I don’t need people ramming me with their carry-on bags as they jostle their way to the front of the cabin and off the plane.

I toy with my phone. Should I toggle off airplane mode or allow myself to be surprised at who might wait outside baggage? Will it be Caleb’s car with Faith inside or the brightly colored Baja with its signature colors of blue, orange, white, and satin black?

I stick the phone in my pocket.

Walking toward baggage my heart thumps along in anticipation. Sweat beads along my forehead and I swipe at it with my sleeve. I find the baggage carousel for my flight and join the throng of people waiting for their luggage to make its way along the carrier. I’m nervous as fuck and reach for my phone to turn off airplane mode. Why did I do this to myself? “Shit.”

“Problem?” the deep voice asks.

I glance up and make eye contact Everest. My breath hitches. He’s wearing the same hoodie he wore the first time I met him: Fortis University Gladiators with the motto fortis fortuna adiuvat screen-printed under an icon of a sword. Hilt positioned between his pecs, blade pointing down toward nirvana. His navy-blue eyes resemble the color of the deepest part of the ocean. A shiver works its way down my spine.

“It depends on your definition.”

His grin spreads wide. He reaches down and lifts me to eye level with him. “Lilly, I’ve missed you.”

I wrap my arms around his neck. “Me, too.”

It doesn’t take long for us to gather my suitcase and head to short-term parking where Everest left the Baja. Once we’re on our way out of the lot he asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. It’s been a long day. I should eat something. I haven’t had anything since before I left for the airport this morning.”

He glances at me with a horrified expression. “That was more than twelve hours ago.”

“Yeah. I know. I didn’t feel like eating anything greasy and I couldn’t find a bagel or fruit in the terminal. I didn’t want to miss out on an opportunity to get on the next flight.”

He pulls off the freeway at the next exit and turns left. We turn into a strip mall with a Panera Bread. “They have soup and sandwiches here. Stay put, I’ll help you down.” He quickly moves to the passenger side of the vehicle.

“I lived in Newford, not Nepal. I’ve eaten at Panera before.”

“Sorry.” He lets out a breath. “You worry me. Will you promise to eat regularly?”

He’s concerned, and I feel awful. “Yes, I’m sorry. You’re right. I didn’t think and then there wasn’t food service on either flight. Thanks for bringing me here.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Of course.”

I eat in silence. There’s so much between us and no good way to start the conversation. I doubt he’d appreciate my demanding, “Do you love me?”

After eating half the sandwich and most of the soup, I’m full. “I can’t finish.”

“Are you sure? You didn’t eat much.”

“I need the restroom, and then I want to get back to the dorm.”

He nods.

I’m hormonal. I know this and recognize the signs. My hormones are multiplying at the speed of light, getting ready to turn my grain of rice into a baby human. Everest has been so nice, I don’t want to word-vomit at him. The thought of him not loving me makes me feel like utter, unlovable crap.

I drop my jeans, do my business, and move to flush. It’s not an auto-flush toilet. I stare into the bowl. There’s blood. Not a lot, but enough to scare the fuck out of me. I think of Mom and her miscarriage and grow ice cold.

No. No. No.

I wad toilet paper into a pad to protect my clothes.

I don’t have blood on my underwear.

Maybe this is normal?

I wash my hands and make my way to the table where Everest waits for me. He goes on instant alert when his gaze lands on me.

He’s beside me in a second. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m spotting,” I whisper. My voice gone.

His face goes dead white. “We’re getting you to the hospital right now.”

He strides out of the restaurant, his hand splayed against my lower back. “Not the hospital. My parents can’t afford it, Everest. Take me to the campus clinic, please.”

He stares down at me and nods. He helps me into the passenger seat and hurries to the driver’s side.

He shoves the keys into the ignition. “I want you to know something before we get to the clinic. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to talk to you.”

My heart thuds. Maybe he wants me to miscarry or choose the alternative? I swallow, and say between clenched teeth, “Spit it out.”

He glances at me and then turns his attention back to the road. “Fine. No matter what happens, I’ll be there for you. You’re it for me. I don’t want to scare you, but I love you.”

Wait, what? His words don’t make sense. “You completely pulled me out of the story.”

He shoots me a glance. “What story? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Our story. This. What might be happening to me.” I draw in a breath and let it out. “Did you say you love me?”

“Yes,” he says without any clue to his emotional state.

“I love you, too. And you’re not getting out of anything. Durnins stay in love forever. You’re stuck with me.”

His grin flashes. “Works for me.” His grin fades. “Are you bleeding much?”

I flinch. “No more than the start of a regular period. But I don’t think it’s normal. I found out recently Mom miscarried her first pregnancy.”

His hand folds over mine. “Let’s not jump to conclusions yet.”

I nod.

*

Everest joins meduring the exam, but not when I had to pee in a cup. Some things require privacy. He stands next to me while I sit on the examination table waiting for a doctor. He holds my hand.

His face still lacks color. “Are you in pain? Would you rather have Faith with you than me?”

No, I’m not in pain. I’m afraid. I didn’t want to be pregnant, but here I am. When the bleeding started, I felt guilty, like I’d brought this on with doubt and fear. What if I’m starting to miscarry? It certainly solves a lot of issues. This exact scenario has me feeling shame.

“No, Eric. Faith’s my best friend, but you’re my teammate.”

He touches his forehead to mine. “I love you no matter what.”

“Hey.” Warmth spreads to my chest. “Same goes for me.” I swallow hard. “Do you think miscarriages happen because of fear?”

“No, I don’t.” He brushes the hair away from my face. “Unplanned pregnancies cause fear. That’s a perfectly normal reaction to a life-changing event. And if every woman miscarried at a positive result, the human race would be extinct.”

The door swings open. “Kirsten Durnin?”

“Yes.” My stomach turns over.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions. When did you take your first pregnancy test?”

“Four or five days ago. I was on the fourth placebo pill in my pack when I realized I was late.”

She makes a note. “Have you experienced anxiety or stress in the past month?”

“Yes, my brother was hospitalized after getting hit by a car.”

She glances at me. “I’m sorry to hear that. Can I ask you what kind of medications you’re taking?”

“Just what I noted on the questionnaire. The multivitamin and birth control.” Then I remember the pills I stopped taking the second my grain of rice appeared in two solid lines. “And an anti-anxiety mediation, but to be honest, it’s not mine. Just something a friend gave me to get through my baby brother’s accident. I stopped taking them immediately.”

I hope I didn’t break any rules. Oh, God. I didn’t even think about how the school might view me taking someone else’s prescribed medication. The blood drains from my face.

She notices my expression. “This is a private conversation. You’re not in trouble here. About how many pills do you think you might have had before you stopped?”

Okay. No trouble, that’s a huge relief. “I’m not sure. Maybe six? I took two the first day—that was the worst day. I couldn’t function properly.”

Everest rubs my back.

The doctor glances at us. “I have your test results.”

She doesn’t say anything else and I want to scream. I’m not sure if I want to scream tell me or don’t tell me. Everest reaches for my hand, connecting us.

“Kirsten, anti-anxiety meds often produce false positives. Your hCG count is less than five mIU/mL. At this point, it should be much higher, even if your body was rejecting pregnancy. You were never pregnant.”

I’m in shock.

When she tries to pass a feminine pad to me, I stare at her hand uncomprehendingly.

Everest takes it from her. “Thanks for your help. We’ll find our way out.”

She passes Eric a card before closing the door. The card has Teen Space written on the front. Teen Space where Faith volunteers, where I’ve registered as a volunteer myself. Same goes for Everest.

Full circle.

I start to laugh. Tears track down my face to plop on the hospital gown I’m wearing. Everest steps to me, and pulls me into his embrace, rubbing his solid, sexy hands up and down my arms. Just being here for me while I lose my shit. Caring about me, when this news affected him as well.

“You’re such a keeper,” I admit.

“You’ve finally accepted the inevitable. I am quite the catch.”

I wipe at my tears and snort, “Yeah, true. Then again so am I.”

“Don’t I know it.”