Page 32 of Claimed By the Bratva Brothers

“I can’t. Not yet anyway. We didn’t expect it to happen. So for now, we’re just trying to figure out what it means and where it might lead.”

“So you’re keeping it on the down low.”

“Yeah,” she lowers her gaze, sounding almost disappointed.

“You’ll tell me about it when you’re ready,” I say.

“That’s right. How is everything going with this mysterious lover boy since you decided to give him a second chance after ghosting you?” Shelby asks, offering a playful smile, while I struggle to chew and swallow what used to be my favorite dessert.

“It’s great. The chemistry is there, we’re getting to know each other better. I feel safe when I’m with them. Physically, emotionally. It’s all there.”

“Them?”

“Him. I mean him,” I blurt out, my blood suddenly running cold. “My head’s a frickin’ mess these days. Oh, shit,” I pause, feeling the sweetness turn into something acrid on my tongue. “I’m going to be sick.”

A split-second later, I bolt for the bathroom. I almost miss the stall altogether, making it just in time to hurl my entire soul out. Heaving and panting, sweating and feeling hot and cold at the same time, I realize that there may be something more serious going on here.

Shelby’s footsteps startle me. “Lyric, are you okay? You went white as a sheet of paper.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. My stomach just got really upset all of a sudden,” I say as I manage to pull myself back up and flush everything down. “I could use a drink though. I’m so thirsty.”

“Here,” she replies, and I find her waiting by the sink with a bottle of water ready for me. “You sure you’re ok?”

I nod slowly. “Stress, most likely. Work. My thesis. Everything is starting to pile up. I’ll be okay, I promise. I just have to be more careful with what I eat.”

“When’s the last time you got your period?” Shelby asks, narrowing her eyes as she analyzes my immediate expression. I reckon she figured it out barely a moment ahead of me as I’m trying to do the basic math in my head. “How about we stop by the drugstore after you finish your shift? I don’t have any plans for the rest of the night. Your dad said I deserve some time off before the next rally.”

I can’t say no. Shelby has been there for me through everything. She’s the one I turn to when I need someone to just listen. Even if I haven’t told her the whole truth about Max, Ivan, and Artur, she knows enough to offer reasonable and sound advice. And this right here, I can’t possibly shoulder it alone. If she’s right with her suspicion, I want her by my side when the result comes.

A few hours later, we’re both staring at the plus sign on a pregnancy test.

“Well, shit,” I say, my tone flat, my eyes tired.

Shelby takes a deep breath while I take another swig of cold water. I feel hungry. Maybe I should eat something before the nausea returns. It’s been a rollercoaster all day and now that I know why, it’ll probably get worse before it gets better.

“You should see an OB-GYN,” Shelby suggests. “Just to confirm.”

I exhale sharply and toss the test in the bathroom bin, then go straight into the kitchen. There’s a tub of peanut butter and chocolate ice cream that’s got my name on it. “Man, this is not the right time.”

“I get it,” Shelby says. “But you know, you do have options.”

“I’ve always wanted to be a mom and have a family of my own. I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon.” I pause and take the ice cream tub out of the freezer, ready to confront my shortcomings on the whole matter. “Truth be told, we weren’t careful about it. At all. I never stopped to consider it.”

“Love does that to people.”

I give her a startled look. “That’s a charged word.”

“It’s obviously the right word,” Shelby chuckles. “Look at you, all flustered and pregnant, ready to keep a baby in the middle of a doctorate thesis. Your life’s work is waiting for you, yet you’re willing to become a mom. If it wasn’t love, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

“We’ve only been together for a couple of months. It’s too soon to call it that.”

“It’s too soon to have a baby, too, yet here you are.”

“You’re not helping,” I huff and grab a couple of spoons. We sit around the kitchen counter island and dig in, one scoop at a time. Fortunately, this particular taste seems to offer me soothing comfort and genuine delight.

“What are you going to tell your dad?” Shelby asks.

I shake my head vehemently. “Under no circumstances can he know, Shelby. Please, this is my issue, my body, my life. Please.”

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