Ten minutes crawl by before there’s a light rap of knuckles on the door. A short blond woman in her late forties smiles before glancing at the chart in her hand. She has a kind smile and warm eyes that instantly put me at ease.
“Hello, Summer. I’m Dr. Davis. It’s nice to meet you.” When she offers a hand to shake, I reach out and take her narrow one. “I understand you’re here for an exam and to discuss birth control options.”
That would about sum it up. “Yes.”
She settles on the swivel stool before laying the chart on the desk and turning to face me. “How long have you been sexually active?”
There’s no reason for embarrassment, but still... “Less than two months.”
“Okay. Do you have a permanent partner?”
Ummm...
I scrunch my nose. “Like a boyfriend?”
Her lips lift slightly as she nods. “A boyfriend or one partner that your intimate with.”
My gaze skitters away. “Yes.” While Kingsley is definitely not my boyfriend, I suppose he falls into the permanent partner category.
She nods before wheeling the stool closer. “The reason I ask is because we checked your urine sample for hCG —
hCG?
I have no idea what that is.
Why would they check for that?
“And it turns out you’re pregnant,” she finishes quietly.
Pregnant.
The word reverberates in my head.
No. That’s not possible.
The roar of the ocean fills my ears until it drowns out almost everything else. My tongue darts out to moisten parched lips. The saliva filling my mouth disappears, leaving it to feel as dry as the Sahara.
Barely can I croak out the question. “Are you sure?”
“I’m afraid so. The urinalysis is ninety-nine percent accurate.” She rises from the stool. “We’ll take bloodwork when we’re finished. Why don’t you lie back on the table and I’ll examine you? Afterward, we can talk about your options.”
When I walked through the office door thirty minutes ago, I had assumed we would discuss an entirely different set of options. My mind buzzes as I recline on the table. It’s like I’m having a strange, out-of-body experience and this is happening to someone else.
I can’t be pregnant.
Tears prick the back of my eyelids.
“I’ll start with a breast exam.”
Dr. Davis peels back the left side of the paper gown until my breast is exposed and asks me to place my left arm above my head. Barely do I feel her fingers as they move steadily in a circular motion, gently pressing against the soft tissue. Then she moves to the right side and repeats the process.
“I didn’t feel anything that would be cause for concern, which is good.”
I want to burst out laughing, but somehow manage to keep it contained.
Hello, lady, I’m pregnant!
That alone is cause for concern.
Like...major fucking concern.
Dr. Davis extends the metal stirrups and helps place my feet inside them.
“Would it be correct to assume this pregnancy was unplanned?”
That question opens up the floodgates as a rush of hot tears fill my eyes. I jerk my head into a nod. If I attempt to speak, I’ll end up sobbing and I don’t want to do that. Stupid as it sounds, it never occurred to me that I could get pregnant. Kingsley wore condoms. It seemed like we were being careful.
Clearly, that wasn’t the case.
“Let’s finish up with the pelvic exam and then we can talk.”
The rest of the visit goes by in a blur of information. Turns out I’m six weeks pregnant. My periods have always been irregular, and I’ve never done a great job of keeping track. If Mom hadn’t scheduled an appointment, who knows when I would have realized I was late. Especially considering everything that’s happened. For all I know, I got pregnant the first time we had sex. Or maybe in Door County at Kingsley’s beach house.
Kingsley.
Oh God...
What am I going to tell him?
Am I going to tell him?
I can’t believe this is something I have to think about.
Once I’m dressed, I push out through the door to the waiting room. Everly glances at me before jumping to her feet and searching my face. It’s as if she can sense that all isn’t right. The truth of the matter is that nothing has been right for a while. But it’s even more fucked up than I suspected.
“Everything good?” she asks carefully.
“Yup.” I nod and glance away, unable to hold her curious stare. “Just ready to get out of here.”
“Bet you’re glad that’s over with.” She swipes her purse from the chair before slinging it over her shoulder. “Pelvics...so not fun.”
I almost bark out a laugh. Instead, I keep the sound buried deep inside. I’m afraid if I release it into the air, the laughter will quickly turn to tears. As tempted as I am to confide in Everly, I need to keep this to myself until I figure out what I’m going to do.
Each time I think the situation can’t get worse, somehow I manage to jackhammer to an all new low.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I’m startled awake when rough hands grip my hips and flip me over before pulling me to my knees. My panties are ripped away, and he’s inside me in one smooth stroke, filling me to the brim.
Kingsley.
Even though I’m half asleep, I would recognize his touch anywhere. The feel of him surrounding me, pounding into me, as his hips jerk against mine, fills some deep need inside. I can’t explain it, all I know is that there is comfort in his possession. As much as I try to keep the moan locked inside, where he can’t revel in my submission, that becomes impossible. The gratification is too much to absorb, and the broken sound slides from my lips, filling the silence between us. No matter how much I want to hate this, I don’t.
Unwilling to deny myself the pleasure unfurling like a flower, I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on it. Neither of us want the connection binding us together, but it’s there none the less.
The first time Kingsley took me, a tentative link was formed. As a twin, I know exactly what it’s like to feel as if you’re one half of a whole. When my body is locked in intimacy with his, that’s exactly how it feels. It’s totally addictive. I want to hold on to the sensation with both hands and make it last forever.
But it never does. The high I get from our fucking only lasts for a few blissful minutes before disintegrating into nothingness.
Soft grunts fall from his lips as he drives into me. His tempo picks up, becoming more frantic, and I feel myself getting pushed closer to the precipice. Before I’m able to get there, he thrusts against me and comes with a long guttural groan.
For the first time, our bodies are no longer in perfect synchronicity.
The storm swirling madly through me, picking up traction, disperses like a fog into nothingness. The disappointment that rushes in is swiftly followed by sorrow.
As he collapses against my back, his body drapes over mine almost protectively. His harsh breath drifts across my neck as I stare at the wall of windows into the darkness. Even though his cock is softening, there’s still a feeling of fullness inside me. It’s a fragile connection in the shadows of the room when words escape us.
A heartbeat later, the bond is shattered when Kingsley pulls out of my body before rolling from the bed. Silently I watch as he grabs his boxers from the floor and hauls them up his hips.
His head turns as his gaze falls on me, pinning me in place. My breath hitches, a tiny bubble of hope expanding in my throat as I wait for him to make the first move. Instead of bridging the yawning distance between us, he stalks to the door, quietly closing it behind him until the lock clicks into place.
I squeeze my eyes tight as tears prick my eyes. Now that Kingsley is gone, I roll onto my side and curl up in a tight ball, feeling more isolated than before. The hard truth is th
at nothing about our relationship has been normal. It’s been fucked up and doomed for failure from the very beginning, and nothing will ever change that.
Not me.
Not Kingsley.
And certainly not the baby growing in my belly.
The only thing true and pure between us was the day we spent on his boat when he didn’t know who I was. Other than that, it’s all been a game. A web of deceit. I don’t trust him, and he doesn’t trust me.
How can we possibly bring a baby into this world?
A wave of grief crashes over me as I realize the answer.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It takes effort to drag my ass from bed the next morning. As soon as I rise to my feet, a wave a nausea hits, threatening to suck me under. Unlike the previous mornings, I now understand the reason behind it. My hand flutters to my lower abdomen as I press my palm against it, almost as if I can feel the new life flourishing inside. At this point, it’s the only thing that makes this pregnancy real.
The heavy weight of this decision presses down on me as I jump in the shower and dress in my school uniform. I add a bit of concealer under my eyes, golden shadow to my lids, and gloss to my lips. I might feel like shit, but I don’t want anyone to comment on my appearance or ask questions.
Especially Kingsley.
Until I decide what to do, I’m keeping this new development to myself. Dr. Davis encouraged me to take some time and think about a decision. I’ve already made a follow-up appointment, and she offered counseling services if I need someone impartial to discuss the situation with.
If the circumstances were different, the outcome would be as well. Kingsley and I don’t have a relationship and if I’ve realized anything over the last month, there is too much bad blood between our families for us to move past it.
How can I bring a baby into that kind of toxic environment?
Pushing those depressing thoughts from my head, I grab my backpack and purse before walking through the gallery and hustling down the stairs. I’ve become a master at timing my arrival perfectly, so I make it to the foyer moments before we walk out the door. I don’t want to spend anymore time alone with Kingsley than I absolutely have to. And I certainly don’t want to have an unexpected encounter with Keaton. The last creepy conversation was enough to last a lifetime.
I spot Kingsley at the bottom of the staircase, scrolling through his phone. A deep sadness fills me as images from last night flit through my head. It only solidifies the notion that it’s much too late to fix this broken relationship.
The chime of my cell chases those thoughts away and I pause, unzipping my purse to slide the phone from the dark depths of my bag before glancing at the screen. The message is from Austin.
Mom is making pancakes. Wanna come over?
It might not sound like much, but Mom being out of bed this early is huge. And making pancakes?
It’s a little ray of sunshine in the suffocating darkness that has become my life.
I quickly type back that I’m running late but am glad Mom is doing better.
As I slide the phone into my purse, I stumble on the last tread. My bag slips from my shoulder before falling. Everything—makeup, phone, wallet, and a bunch of loose change—spills, clattering across the marble tile. I grab the banister to keep from face planting at the bottom of the staircase. As Kingsley leaps forward, his phone slips from his fingers as he reaches for me. The air gets knocked from my lungs as his arms wrap around my body before hauling me close.
“You all right?” His voice is nothing more than a rumble in my ear.
An answering shiver scampers down my spine. Even though I should separate myself from him, all I want to do is burrow into his solid warmth. I’m so tempted to close my eyes and inhale a deep lungful of his rich masculine scent. Instead, I ignore the clamoring demands of my body and step away. My gaze lands on my purse and the contents strewn throughout the foyer. If this is any indication of what’s in store, it’ll be a shit day.
A huff of breath escapes from my lips as I drop to my knees, grabbing a slim tube of lip gloss and mascara before stuffing it into the empty bag. Kingsley hunkers down beside me. I scoop up my wallet and my phone. Thankfully, the screen isn’t damaged. He dumps a few odds and ends into the bag. I’m scanning the area to see if I’ve missed anything when my gaze falls on the green pamphlet from the doctor.
Oh, shit.
I’d forgotten to take that out of my purse. My heart skips a painful beat as I lunge for it, but he beats me to the punch, snatching the folded paper before glancing at it.
My fingers tremble as I extend my hand. “Can I have that, please?”
It takes everything I have inside not to rip the leaflet from his fingers. If I do, it’ll only prove how important it is. And then he’ll do the exact opposite just to spite me. I know how his mind works.
His brows jerk together as he stares at the front page. “What is this?”
“It’s not important,” I mumble.
From his crouched position on the floor, he glances up, skewering me in place with the intensity of his gaze. His voice turns sharp as he holds up the pamphlet. “Where did you get this?”
Unwilling to tell him the truth, I press my lips together and remain silent.
“Summer?” His hand snakes out to wrap around my wrist. “Is this yours?”
I wince as his fingers bite into my flesh. When I try to jerk away, his hold turns punishing.
“Answer me, damn it!” He drags me across the marble until his face hovers inches from my own and his warm breath can ghost over my lips. “Are you pregnant?”
“Yes.” The answer slips free before I can think better of it.
Air hisses from his lungs as his grip disappears, and he falls backward onto his ass. His eyes widen as emotion crashes over his features.
Shock.
Anger.
Regret.
“Why do you have this?” He glares at the paper. “Are you planning on getting an abortion?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, heart thundering painfully under my breast. “I haven’t decided yet.”
He drags a hand over his face as if he were expecting a different response. “Were you even going to tell me?”
I pin my lip with my teeth and defiantly hold his gaze. How can he ask me that question when we’re barely on speaking terms?
Apparently my silence is answer enough.
Storm clouds gather in his eyes. If I had thought I’d seen fury from him before, I was wrong. “You were going to abort my baby without ever mentioning it?”
I wince as his voice cracks over me like a clap of thunder. My tongue darts out to moisten my lips as tears sting my eyes. “When exactly was I supposed to share the good news? In between you bending me over and fucking me?”
The rage dims as guilt and shame flash across his features. A hot stain of color flags his cheeks. When he remains silent, all the resentment and frustration that has been simmering beneath the surface boils over.
Who the hell is he to judge me?
“We’re both eighteen years old! How am I supposed to bring a baby into this world when we hate each other? And that’s not something that will ever change.”
His expression becomes shuttered as every bit of emotion vanishes as swiftly as it appeared. I couldn’t begin to guess at the thoughts crashing around inside his head. He folds the informational pamphlet before shoving it into the pocket of his khakis and rising to his feet.
Before I can move, he extends a hand and helps me to mine. “Come on, we’ll be late.”
Thrown off by the abrupt shift in his demeanor, I jerk my head into a nod before trailing after him to the Mustang parked in the drive. He walks around the vehicle, popping open the door for me. A few minutes later, the engine is revving and we’re speeding away from the subdivision. I sit stiffly next to him, waiting for him to hurtle questions at me. Instead, the ride to school is made in silence. A mill
ion thoughts flutter through my head, but none make it past my lips. Kingsley must feel the same because his attention stays focused on the ribbon of road in front of him.
Once parked in the school lot, we exit the vehicle. I have no idea what to expect from him. If there is one thing that has become a constant, it’s that his behavior is unpredictable.
From the corner of my eye, I spot Sloane lounging next to her silver BMW. Her gaze is focused on Kingsley. When he doesn’t move to join her, the smile fades from her face as her eyes narrow. I can practically feel her penetrating stare boring into me, trying to figure out what has changed. Normally I would give her a one fingered salute, but I don’t have the energy for it today. My concerns are much greater than Sloane.
“Are you ready?”
My attention snaps back to Kingsley and I’m surprised to find him at my side. “Yup.”
Before I can readjust my backpack onto my shoulder, he slips it from my fingers and holds it in his hand.
“I can carry that,” I mumble under my breath. There’s no reason for him to play the part of chivalrous knight. We both know it’s nothing more than a pretty façade.
“I’ve got it,” he grunts in response.
It might appear as if we’re one unit, moving toward the three-story stone building, but nothing could be further from the truth. No longer are we two parts of the same whole. We couldn’t be any further apart if we were standing on opposite shores of the same ocean. When sadness mushrooms up, I quickly snuff out the useless emotion.
Our feet slow as we reach my locker, and he silently hands over my backpack.
“Thank you,” I force myself to say.
He jerks his head into a nod before taking off down the hall without another word. Confusion swirls through me as I stare after him.
“Hey, girl.”
Queen of Hawthorne Prep Page 19