Page 36 of Offside Attraction

Anne

No pictures!? This is how our relationship works. We give you emotional support. You give us pictures.

I forgot! Sorry!

Tina

You never forget. Weird smiles and no pictures? You’re going to be with him again, aren’t you?

No! Stop.

Anne

She has a point. It’s the same thing that happened at that hockey tournament. Remember? In Medicine Hat? You showed up in the room at some ungodly hour. No pictures. And then you DID see him again.

By accident!

Tina

Parking Lot Guy??

Anne

Parking Lot Guy

Tina

I still live vicariously through you and Parking Lot Guy. Like, more often than I’d be willing to admit

So do I

She lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Now he wasn’t just Parking Lot Guy. He was Urgent Care Guy. Rocky Ridge Guy. Apartment Guy. Ugh, how had she gotten into this?

All weekend she’d found herself wondering if she could accidentally run into him. If she drove a different route or stopped for coffee a little closer to the hospital. It wasn’t healthy.

She would text Jordan mid-week to see if he’d thought more about Reviact and if he thought it was possible to get an appointment with Dr. Mallory. That was it. Professional. Succinct. If he couldn’t, she’d delete his number and move on with a new strategy.

Rhonda rolled over and swiped up on her screen to tell the girls how whatever weirdness they’d seen on her face was going to be gone by the time she got back from Edmonton, then frowned.

A text sat at the bottom of her text chain.

J

Any more details and I might get pregnant

Her heart pounded her ribs like a gavel as she stared at the message, uncomprehending. Her body grasped the full scope of the situation before her brain caught up, but when it did, she could no longer feel her hands or feet.

J. She’d saved Jordan’s number as “J” because she didn’t want her friends to see it pop up on her screen accidentally. But this didn't make sense. He couldn't be part of the group chat. She'd created it minutes ago by adding Anne, Tina, and?—

Ohhhhhh.

Realization slammed into her like a freight train. There were no prior messages. Why hadn’t she stopped to question why there weren’t other texts showing up in her history? In her haste, she must have accidentally selected “J” instead of “Jenna,” and now?—

She scrolled up, scanning the string of texts like one of those guys on the speed-reading infomercials.

Shit.

Shiiiit.

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