Page 30 of Pucking the Enemy

“I refuse to use a little girls’ room!” I declared.

Hazel snorted. “In that case, you may need to go outside and pee in a shrub, because there is no little boys’ room here.”

I groaned an overly dramatic sound. “I suppose you leave me no choice, then, you cruel, cruel woman.”

“Call me cruel again, and I will go to your place and replace all your bath linens with bright pink ones,” she said as she slumped into an armchair.

“I happen to be very secure in my masculinity, and I think I can pull off pink quite well.” I stuck my nose in the air as I walked across the room toward the bathroom.

“So, you’re secure in your masculinity, but you won’t use a little girls’ room? Has anyone told you that you’re something of a paradox, Sebastian?”

“No, they haven’t because I, Hazel Giltbrook, am an open book!” With that, I strode into the bathroom and closed the door, pleased to hear her giggling on the other side. The least I could do was make her laugh while she was feeling crappy for some unknown reason.

I didn’t take long to finish up and was washing my hands when a vitamin bottle on the counter caught my attention.

Hazel took several vitamins, because omegas tended to be deficient in several things. It was due in part to the suppressants that she took. They leeched a lot of the essential nutrients from her body, and also, omegas were just really bad at remembering to eat. I’d discovered over the years that it wasn’t just a Hazel trait; that was actually a trait of most omegas.

Picking up the bottle, I turned it over in my hands. The label was bright pink, which wasn’t that surprising, considering most omega-centric vitamins involved bright pink branding. Because, of course, since most of them were women, they needed pink things.

The name of the vitamin stuck out to me, though.

Prenatal blend.

Why the hell was Hazel taking a prenatal vitamin? For a moment, I considered whether or not she was deficient in something like folic acid? Did non-pregnant women even need folic acid?

But she had been sick.

She had been sick for several weeks, in fact.

That, coupled with the vitamin made my heart stutter.

Was Hazel pregnant?

No, there was no way.

Surely, she would have told me?

Irrational anger overtook me as I squeezed the bottle of pills in my hand. I hadn’t even known that Hazel was sleeping with anyone, let alone was serious enough to get pregnant. She was on birth control—I knew that because she complained regularly about the side effects.

Hazel was my best friend. Why hadn’t she told me?

Or was she playing a prank on me? We loved to fuck around with each other; maybe this was her idea of a laugh at my expense?

Only, if it were a prank, she wouldn’t be so sick. There was no faking the hollowness in her face, the faint smell of vomit that clung to her lately.

Bottle in hand, I stormed out of the bathroom.

“Took your sweet time. I thought you’d fallen in, and I was going to have to come rescue you.” Hazel laughed as she rummaged through a drawer. When I didn’t answer, she looked up at me and at the pill bottle in my hand. Her face visibly paled, which was impressive, considering she was already pale.

“What are these?” I asked, doing my best to keep my voice calm and controlled and not express the sheer rage that was simmering under the surface.

Hazel stammered for a moment, trying to find words, but instead of saying anything, she burst into tears.

“I-I d-didn’t know how to tell you!” she sobbed, tears rapidly leaking from the corners of her eyes.

My heart dropped. The horrified look on her face was confirmation enough.

Hazel was pregnant.

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