Page 13 of Bonding the Band

“It was probably a false positive,” I rationalized.Please, god, let it be a false positive.

Clover raised her eyebrows. “We both know that’s not true. Here, drink this,” she instructed, handing me a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” I muttered, taking it. Omegas were caring individuals in general—what most people might dub maternal—so, ever since Clover had found the test, she had gone into a frenzy of care for me. I had never been so well-hydrated in my life.

“Are you going to tell me who the father is?” she asked, returning to the frying pan and dishing up two plates of bacon and eggs.

I had spent the last few days hiding in my nest, trying to avoid the topic.

Deep down, I knew I was most likely pregnant. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. Admitting it meant I would have to face the reality ofwhogot me pregnant, and that was something I was in no way ready to face.

What were my options? Adoption? Not for me. Abortion? Also not for me, but I loved people being able to make thatchoice for themselves. Being a single mother? Definitely not the most ideal, but I could do it. Or…the most awkward option: Go to a concert once Hard Knot Life returned stateside, sneak backstage, and sayHey, remember that one-night stand we had? Well, surprise! You’re going to be a daddy!

Fuck me. All these options kind of sucked. I wasn’t even supposed to be fertile outside of a heat. What sort of cosmic fuckery had gone on for this to happen?

I indulged in a quiet scream into my hands.

A rock star was a terrible choice for a baby daddy. What sort of influence would Hendrix be on a child’s life? Based on the articles I’d read about him, I could only assume he’d be a shit parent, and that wasifhe was even interested in being one at all. What rock star would want a baby cramping their style? Probably the best I could hope for was a few years of raising a child alone until his career tempered a bit, and maybe he’d have more interest in being a dad to someone out of diapers.

Then there was the issue of his pack…I guess technically they would bemypack if we’re bonded?

“You’ve got your overthinky face on again,” Clover pointed out. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but that bite mark on your neck still hasn’t faded from the night of the concert. Maybe it’s time to get in touch with that roadie.”

A roadie would’ve been bad enough.

“I don’t even know how I’d do that.” I shrugged. “They’re traveling the world. They don’t have time for me.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. If hehadbeen a roadie, then he could still be local; there was no guarantee he’d have followed the band on the Asia leg of the tour. Clover was going to figure it out if I wasn’t careful.

“He should still know,” Clover insisted. “Maybe we could reach out to management? They’d probably be able to find out if we give them some info. What did he look like?”

“I really don’t want to deal with this right now. Can we please pretend everything’s normal for a bit longer? There’s no sense trying to do anything until the test confirms everything, anyway.”

Pain shot through my boob, and I clapped a hand over it with a yelp. “Motherfucker!”

Clover stared at me with wide eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I sucked in a sharp breath. “Sorry. I must have moved wrong.”

She gave me a knowing look. “Titties hurting?”

“Maybe,” I grumbled.

“All the more reason to book an appointment. It’s not like you have a missed period to give you a heads-up like betas do.”

I hated when she was right.

I let Clover lovingly bully me into going to the campus health clinic. I was eyeballs-deep in my English reading assignment when they called me in. Clover gave me a thumbs-up and a grin as I went back to one of the rooms. They had an omega-specific area back there, and I sank into the easy-clean beanbag, wrapping the offered blanket over my shoulders until the doctor came in.

“Hello there, Ms. Reed.” The doctor smiled and sat down on a stool in front of me. “What brings you in today?”

My lips stayed sealed shut. Why was saying it out loud so hard?

The doctor offered a sympathetic smile. “Oh dear, a face like that usually means it’s about sex. Related to heats, pregnancy, or STIs?”

“The second,” I squeaked out.

“All right. Are you looking for confirmation, or have you already had a test elsewhere?”

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