Page 44 of Inked Devotion

I was running out of friends, everyone else was moving on with their lives, and somehow I was left behind, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

I quickly showered, then pulled on a pair of sweatpants before I walked shirtless out to the kitchen to grab a beer. I had just taken the first sip when someone banged on the door. I frowned before I made my way towards the front. I looked through the peephole. My eyes widened before I took a step back. I opened the door, and Brenna barreled through.

“We need to talk. We need to fucking talk.” She whirled and looked at me, her eyes wide. “You need to have a shirt on when we have this talk.”

“Hey, Brenna. You’re welcome to come inside.”

You’re welcome to do a lot of things.

I didn’t say that out loud.

“Please put on a shirt. We need to talk.”

I opened my mouth to make a joke or to say anything to figure out why the fuck she was here, and then I got to look at her. She was pale beneath any concealer she wore. Her hair was piled up on the top of her head, and it looked like she hadn’t slept the night before. Honestly, it looked like she hadn’t slept in a while, her hands were shaking, and I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. So I set down my beer and moved forward.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me?”

“I need you to put on a shirt.”

I cursed her. “I’m not going to put on a shirt and take time away from whatever you need to tell me. What’s wrong? Is someone hurt? Is it Beckett?”

Fear slid up my spine, and I looked around for my phone. I had put it down when I’d come in, but I hadn’t checked my messages in a while. Fuck. Was someone hurt?

“No, it’s not them. No, everything’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine. I should just come out and say it.”

I nodded quickly, my heart racing. “Are you sick? Oh shit, you had an appointment yesterday? Did everything not go okay?”

I swallowed hard and moved forward, putting my hands on her shoulders. She froze for the barest instant, and then I realized this was the first time I had touched her since our trip. Fuck. What the hell was wrong with me?

“My appointment. Right. It didn’t go as planned.”

“What’s wrong? Whatever happens, I’m here for you. I promise, Brenna. Just talk to me.”

She bit her lip before tears began to fill her eyes.

“Don’t cry,” I said, feeling as if someone had punched me right in the chest. I reached up with my thumb and wiped away her tears. “Don’t cry, Brenna.”

“I can’t…I can’t think. Benjamin. I’m pregnant.”

I blinked and tilted my head. “You can know that soon after the process? I didn’t know science was like that.”

In the distance, I swore I heard a bell ringing, something warning me that it wasn’t quite where my mind was going. Maybe I was just losing my mind. That had to be it.

“Benjamin. I’m pregnant. I didn’t get inseminated yesterday because I was already pregnant. At least a few weeks now. As in, I know the exact date of conception.”

I looked at her then, blinked, and took a staggering step back. “Pregnant?”

“I know,” she said, her voice going high-pitched. “I know. We used a condom.”

“I know. I remember using the condom. I remember taking care of the condom. I didn’t see a hole in it. I would’ve noticed if there was a hole in the fucking condom, wouldn’t I?” My voice kept getting louder, and I gulped deep breaths to try to stay sane.

It wasn’t working.

“I don’t know. We were drunk. And we cleaned up afterward. Oh my God, I was on fertility meds, Benjamin. All so I could get pregnant easier. Your fucking Montgomery sperm came at me.”

“What the fuck?”

I began to pace before I looked at my beer and chugged it.

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