Page 56 of Make You Mine

“Not soon enough,” he adds.

I stand, knowing I'll never get up if I stay in this bed any longer. My head rushes with an unsettling, dizzy feeling, causing me to sit back down immediately. Trent is by my side to steady me in an instant.

“Woah, are you okay?” His voice is more serious than normal, concern etched on his face.

“Yeah…that was strange. Must’ve stood up too quickly.”

“You sure? Maybe you should lay back down.”

“No, no. I'm okay,” I assure him, attempting to stand once again. Feeling better this time, I head to the bathroom and turn on the shower.

Stepping inside, I exhale deeply, letting the warm cascading water wash away all my fears and sense of unease.

Before I know it, I'm crying once again. What in the actual fuck is wrong with me? If I didn’t know any better, I'd say I'm as emotional as a pregnant woman.

Could you imagine…

Wait.

When was my last period?

I do some quick mental calculations, and the more I think about it, the hotter the prickly sensation of fear creeps up my neck. I stumble back at the realization, knocking over the bottles of body wash and conditioner.

Holy. Fucking. Shit. I could be pregnant. The real question is, by who?

I hear Trent's voice sound through the bathroom door. “You okay in there?”

“Ye—yeah, I'm good. Be out in a minute,” I stammer as my stomach twists with nausea.

While quickly finishing up, I devise a plan to get a test on the way to my mom’s. No need to panic and no need to tell anyone until I know for certain the results.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Micah says from the seat beside me.

“Sorry, I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.” It is not necessarily a lie, but my attention is primarily on the pregnancy test I picked up a few minutes ago, which is screaming at me from inside my purse.

I asked Micah to stop at CVS on our way to brunch, feigning a lady emergency and needing supplies. Which, of course, he wanted no part of and allowed me to run inside quickly while he stayed in the waiting car at the curb.

Resting my head on the window, I watch the buildings pass us by. With each block creeping closer to my childhood home, I try my best to calm my nerves.

I notice Micah eyeing me, concern etched on his face.

“Out with it,” I say, turning to face him.

“Just making sure you’re all good.”

“Yeah, I am. Nervous, but I’m good,” I answer honestly. He doesn’t have to know exactly what I'm nervous about. Everything in my life is uncertain. I’m literally a ball of nerves.

“What about you? Are you good?” I turn in my seat to gauge his reaction.

Micah stares out the windshield for a few moments before he responds. “You know, I used to dream about following in dad’s footsteps; being a Capo was all I’ve ever wanted. But…”

“But you’re worried what your involvement with The Saints might mean?” I finish for him. It's something I’ve even wondered myself once I discovered he was working with Nico.

He releases a long sigh while his eyes remain focused on the road ahead of him. “To be honest, after Dad’s death, I knew I couldn’t stand back and watch Junior destroy everything the families have worked so hard for. It’s almost like Dad was the last barrier holding Junior back from unleashing the reckless son-of-a-bitch he truly was. I wanted to be prepared in any way possible to ensure our futures.”

I reach for his arm that’s resting on the center consol. “Our family has been involved for five generations; Dad fought hisway from a low man on the totem pole Soldati to one of the Santini’s main Capos. I know how much continuing his legacy means to you. When I heard you were working with Nico, I was beyond surprise, but also thankful for my big brother pulling strings behind the scenes. How did you even manage to sync up with them?”

“Trevor,” he says, like the name alone holds the answers.

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