by Maisey Yates
“I think he’s a good kid,” Jacob said. “Or I think he can be.”
“You know, it’s not too late for you either,” Gabe said.
“Maybe not. Maybe the problem is I just don’t care. But I’m not going to wander off into the woods, and I’m not going to get myself thrown in prison.”
“What are you going to do?”
“This, I guess. Fires when I need to.”
“And nothing else?”
“What else is there?”
“Marriage? Kids?”
“Hell no. I don’t ever want to have that kind of responsibility. I’ve let enough people down. I’m hardly going to sign up to put any more lives in my hands.”
“Whether or not you realize it, you do it every day with the fire. Honestly, that’s something I’ve never understood about you, Jacob. You’re very insistent that you’re not a very great guy. But you left the rodeo to be a paramedic. And then you went and did firefighting...”
“This coming from you? You were so convinced that you are exactly like Dad, and you could never be married or anything like that, and are marrying Jamie.”
“I’m not saying I didn’t have my issues.”
“Past tense?”
“Fine. I probably still have them. But I’m just saying that for somebody who’s done so much to help other people, you’re pretty convinced that there’s nothing good in you.”
“Good or bad, it doesn’t matter. Intentions don’t matter. Actions do. I failed in my actions, Gabe. And that means I can fail again. When you realize that—”
“You know, I don’t think I’ve been very fair to you.”
“Wow.” Jacob looked around. “Should I be recording this? Am I on camera now?”
“It’s just that I don’t know how you feel. I mean, I think the realization that a random decision you make on a given day can have such an intense consequence is enough to mess with anyone’s head.”
“I think we all walk through life feeling like there’s a safety net underneath us,” Jacob said. “Whether we realize it or not. The first time you realize it’s not there, it’s a bitch.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m here. Somebody told me once that it doesn’t matter whether or not you want to do a good thing, as long as you do it. That matters a lot more than wanting to do it.”
“Who told you that?” Gabe said.
“Just someone... A therapist.”
Aiden seemed to be listening to that part of the conversation. But as soon as Jacob looked over, the kid put his head back down and began to dig again.
“Well, I guess that’s fair enough. But it sounds like a pretty miserable life if you don’t want to do any of the things that you’re doing.”
He thought about Vanessa. About the way she had felt beneath his hands last night. The way she had looked, streaked with paint, all soft round curves and incredible beauty.
“I like some of the things I do.”
“What?”
Jacob winked. “Nothing you need to know about.”
Then he checked the time and saw that it was about the starting time for art class. “Aiden. Calvin. Marco. Art time.”
“I already know what I’m painting,” Aiden said.
As he led the boys over to class, all he could think about was just how much he had enjoyed painting. A hell of a lot more than he’d imagined he would.
And then he looked at Aiden, at the boy’s shoulders, which looked square today, a little bit more certain.
He’d helped a lot of people in a physical way. Being an EMT, being a firefighter, he’d saved people, he’d saved buildings and trees, animals. But putting himself in physical danger didn’t cost his emotions.
And then the strangest thing had happened.
Vanessa was the one person he’d ever helped who had come back into his life. And somehow now he wanted to...do more than just put a bandage on someone.
He wanted to help heal with it if he could. If his pain could help someone...
Well, then, he’d use it.
And it seemed like he might actually be making a difference.
* * *
SHE HAD MANAGED to not jump on Jacob again in the past week. Vanessa felt like that must be progress, even if she sort of missed how much fun it had been to jump on him. She was beginning to have a little bit of an internal argument with herself about whether or not there was a benefit to indulging in a little bit of casual sex with him.
They’d already done it twice, after all.
And the idea of having him in her bed... It made her smile. Rolling over in the morning, waking up and seeing him there. Naked. Gorgeous.
Maybe they couldn’t have a conversation without getting a little bit too deep or fighting, but they seemed to be able to have sex okay. And that was something.
It was the weekend, so she had no real excuse to see him, but part of her wanted to make an excuse to go over there so she might run into him. Run into him when the classroom was empty, when no one was around...
She really was a little bit of a ridiculous hussy.
She wasn’t sure she minded that.
The realization that she enjoyed sex so much was kind of a nice one. Once she had gotten past the feeling of horror that she had a lack of self-control, she enjoyed the normalcy of it. Most people seemed to like sex. She had blotted it out, put it in the category of nonessential needs so that she could focus on herself.
This was an expansion.
Maybe she needed to institute further expansion.
Of course, she could find another man.
But she wanted Jacob.
And that was another thing that came with her sobriety.
She didn’t do what she didn’t want to. She didn’t suffer. Because that fake martyrdom nonsense didn’t lead anywhere good. That didn’t mean she didn’t do things for other people. But she wasn’t going to go out and have sex she didn’t want, with a man she wasn’t interested in, just to have it. She didn’t eat cake with crappy supermarket frosting. She didn’t wear uncomfortable shoes.
A refusal to have subpar sex went somewhere with those things.
If she was going to proposition Jacob, she supposed that she should get some condoms. She didn’t carry them around because she didn’t really need to. She’d been on regular birth control years ago, but she quit taking it when she had gotten sober.
She frowned.
She didn’t carry condoms because she hadn’t needed them. Jacob had had a condom in his wallet their second time together. Which was interesting because he’d been celibate for quite some time before, he told her that.
In the first time...
The first time he hadn’t used a condom.
She’d known that. She had. It was just that she’d blocked it out. She hadn’t really thought about it, mostly because she hadn’t wanted to. She’d focused on the pleasure. On his body, the way it had fit hers. How she’d felt—wild and free and consumed. Present and hot, in the most beautiful of ways.
But she hadn’t thought about condoms.
They hadn’t had safe sex.
She knew she was clean. She’d gotten tested for everything years back, and since then hadn’t had a partner. But that wasn’t the only thing to worry about with sex.
It wasn’t the only reason to use a condom.
She stood in the center of her house feeling like the floor had fallen away from her feet. She wasn’t due to start her period until tomorrow.
She wasn’t late or anything like that.
She should just wait it out.
But she didn’t feel any cramping. And she didn’t feel achy or even vaguely angry at the world. And that was the most common sign that she was about to start.
That was weird.
But didn’t mean anything necessarily. She had a move, and things were strange. So that could obviously cause a delay in bleeding. Maybe. She wasn’t a doctor.
She sat down on the couch. Then she stood up.
And then she went over to the
fridge and opened it, taking down a glass and filling it up with some of the lemonade that was in the jug there.
She slammed the fridge back shut and took a drink.
The likelihood of her being pregnant was very low.
She was in her late twenties, which was not advanced in terms of age, but it wasn’t exactly the most fertile either. And they had sex once. Standing. Against the wall.
It seemed like making them swim uphill like that would inhibit them.
The timing would have had to have been spectacular. Spectacularly bad.
She would just wait and see what happened. She would give it a couple of days. It wasn’t an emergency. And there really was no reason to think that anything...
Anxiety made her stomach flip over.
This was all way too familiar. Familiar in a way that made her feel sick.
She could wait. She wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t crazy, and she wasn’t pregnant.
But she could just be sure.
She didn’t live very far from town. She could go get a test, come back home and take it and ease her fears in the space of about twenty minutes.
It was either that or be panicked about it until sometime tomorrow.
No, she wasn’t going to do that to herself. She wasn’t going to panic.
She was making enough money at this job that however much a pregnancy test cost wasn’t going to put her in the poorhouse.
Anyway, you couldn’t put a price on peace of mind.
When she got to the grocery store, she saw that you could indeed put a price on peace of mind, and it seemed like kind of a high one, particularly for the ones that proclaimed they would give you a result two days before your missed period.
But that was the one she needed. Seeing as she was one day away.
She imagined it would be even more accurate in that case.
It was inconvenient to look so much like Olivia. Because if she didn’t have somebody who was identical running around town, she wouldn’t feel quite so conspicuous.
She would assume that everyone in town had forgotten about her more or less, and she wouldn’t feel like anyone would be watching to see what she was buying.
But considering she had the face of one of the most beloved girls in town, it all felt very conspicuous.
Of course, Olivia was married, and she already had a baby, so if Olivia thought she might be pregnant again, it wouldn’t even be that surprising.
She bought the test quickly, and the clerk didn’t comment on either the test or the fact that she was running around with Olivia Hollister’s same face.
She was grateful for that. And relieved for a full minute, until she was back in her car and remembered exactly what she had in the little paper bag on the seat.
It was impossible to be Zen with such a package sitting there.
She had never bought a pregnancy test before.
She had been determined to ignore her symptoms the first time. Determined to pretend it wasn’t happening. But she had known.
Her lips felt icy, her knuckles numb as she curved her fingers around the steering wheel.
She pulled over, her hands trembling.
And she didn’t think she could do this alone.
Because it made her think of all those bad and horrible things.
Of waking up with a headache and a soreness between her legs that confused her.
Being afraid of what it might mean.
Having Jared get angry when she asked him about it. And then defensive, as he shouted at her about how she’d taken her clothes off, so of course it seemed like she wanted it.
And then the waiting. Waiting for blood. Waiting to bleed.
And it didn’t come. It just kept not coming.
Until it did. Like a river.
With shaking hands she picked up her cell phone and dialed Ellie. She couldn’t deal with Olivia. Not now. And Ellie was the closest thing she had to a friend in town.
“Ellie?” she asked, trying to disguise the fact that she was on the verge of a panic attack. “Would you mind if I came over and used your bathroom?”
There was a slight pause. “Okay...”
“To take a test.”
This time there was no pause. “Come right over,” Ellie said.
She put Ellie’s address in her phone’s GPS and followed the directions to a little house in a neighborhood in town.
As soon as she pulled in the driveway, the front door opened. “Come in,” Ellie said.
“Thank you.”
Ellie appraised her closely. “I assume that you’re not taking an algebra test into my bathroom?”
“No,” she said, holding up the paper bag.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Do I look okay?”
“No. You look like you’re going to throw up. And pass out. Though not necessarily in that order.”
“Probably both.”
“Vanessa—”
“It’s probably nothing,” Vanessa said, lifting the bag even higher. “I’m not even late. I just... I did something stupid. Really stupid.”
“It’s okay,” Ellie said. “I understand stupid.”
“I just have to see... I have to see how stupid I was.”
“Go right ahead.” She gestured down the hall to the bathroom, and Vanessa went inside.
She braced herself on the counter, her chest aching as she stared down at the pink box.
She blew out a breath, trying to ease the sensation in her chest, and tore it open, then wrestled with the thick white wrapping around the test itself.
A few moments later and she was sitting on the edge of the tub and staring. Staring at the window on the thing, watching as two pink lines materialized.
“Oh no,” she said, covering her face and resting her elbows on her knees.
“Are you pregnant?” came Ellie’s shouted question through the door.
Vanessa stood slowly, trying to catch her breath, and opened the door. “This means I’m pregnant, right?” She thrust the test outward.
“Yes,” Ellie said. “Having taken many of these, I can tell you that is positive.”
“You’ve taken many of these?”
“Yes. Every time I thought I was pregnant but hoped I wasn’t. And also thought I was pregnant and hoped I was. It’s not one of those things I like to wait around for an answer to.”
“Me either. But now I kind of wish I had.”
“It wouldn’t have changed the answer,” Ellie said softly.
“It might...resolve itself,” Vanessa said, feeling numb as she walked out of the bathroom and into Ellie’s living room.
“Yeah, but it might resolve itself into a...baby.”
“I had a miscarriage. Once. A long time ago.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I think I was almost four months pregnant. It was... It was painful. Kind of terrible.”
“Do you know why? Did something happen?”
She looked at Ellie, so very grateful that her friend hadn’t asked if it was her fault somehow. That she hadn’t asked if it was because of drug use or anything like that.
For all Vanessa’s sins, when she had suspected that she was pregnant, she hadn’t done anything. It was of course coupled with her fear of blacking out again, considering what had clearly happened when she had done it the last time.
“I don’t know,” Vanessa said. “I didn’t go to a doctor or anything. I was in denial. I was seventeen. And I really, really couldn’t deal with it.”
She wasn’t sure she could deal with it now, ten years later. She certainly didn’t feel any more emotionally equipped in this moment. Except she had told someone, or she had reached out to someone instead of going completely internal. So maybe that was a step? Toward something? She didn’t know.
She didn’t know anything. Not now.
“What are you going to do?” Ellie asked. Then she blinked. “I’m sorry. That’s probably a terrible question to ask. You just found out.”
“Have to... I...”
She had a whole new life now. She was a new person. She had learned to embrace difficult situations when they came. She had learned to be present for her choices. And she supposed that meant she needed to be active in the consequences of those choices.
Consequence.
That sounded like a really cold term to use for a baby.
A consequence.
She fought against the urge to put her hand on her stomach, because that was silly. She had only just found out there was something in there, and she had the urge to go grabbing on to herself like she was nine months pregnant.
There are consequences for your actions, Vanessa.
She could hear her father’s voice, so very clearly.
Consequences.
She had been living in consequences for a very long time, at least as far as her parents were concerned.
Things that she had earned because of mistakes that she had made.
But she couldn’t even really consider sex with Jacob a mistake.
She couldn’t consider this...a mistake.
How could she?
She wasn’t ready to go plan a baby shower or anything, but the fact of the matter was that she was a woman with a good job, she wasn’t terribly young and she really didn’t have designs on being in a relationship. In fact, this was probably her best bet at having a baby. And so, while there were certainly some things to sort through—namely the situation with Jacob—it wasn’t a wholly unpleasant situation to find herself in.
“I guess... I guess I do a little bit of reading on child development.”
“Okay,” Ellie said. “I can... I mean, I have panic books.”
“Panic books?”
“Books that I have bought in panics at various stages of either pregnancy or Amelia’s development. I call them panic books. They’re in my panic library.” She gestured down the hall and Vanessa followed her into the living room, where there was in fact a bookshelf that covered the entire back wall.
“Panic library,” she said. “There is the What to Expect When You’re Expecting section, which is very effective at making you terrified of every twinge that you might experience during gestation. There is panic about the first year. General child development. I’m getting into panicking about the teen years now.”
“Isn’t Amelia four?”