Page 135 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Correction: I don’t want to do this.

I’m scared shitless.

Dolly sits beside me, her tone gentle but firm. “You can. Whatever the result is, we’ll deal with it. Together. You’re not alone, okay?”

I nod, swallowing hard. “I know.”

She pulls out the tests one by one, lining them up on the coffee table like some sort of bizarre science experiment. “Alright, we’ve got options. The digital one is probably the easiest—no deciphering faint lines. Or we can go old school with this one. Your call.”

I hesitate, staring at the tests. My voice feels distant when I finally speak. “The digital one, I guess.”

“Good choice,” she says, tearing open the box with precision. “Go do your thing, and don’t overthink it. It’s just pee.”

“Just pee,” I echo, though it feels like so much more than that. My legs feel wobbly as I stand, and I clutch the test in one hand like it’s a ticking time bomb.

Dolly gives me an encouraging smile. “You’ve got this.”

The bathroom feels like the smallest, quietest room in the world as I close the door behind me. The instructions on the box are straightforward, but my hands shake as I follow them: Pee on the stick, try not to make a mess, set the test on the counter when I’m done.

Now comes the hard part: waiting.

I pace the tiny space, my mind racing with possibilities.

What if it’s positive?

What if it’s negative?

My stomach flips as I glance at the timer on my phone, the seconds ticking down like an ominous drumbeat.

Finally, the timer goes off and I freeze, my heart pounding. For a moment, I can’t bring myself to look. What if this changes everything?

A knock on the door startles me. “You okay in there?”

I take a deep breath and open the door, holding the test out to her without looking at it. “You check.”

Her eyes widen. “Are you sure?”

I nod, my voice barely a whisper. “I can’t.”

She takes the test gingerly, her expression unreadable as she glances down. Seconds feel like hours as I search her face for any clue. Then she looks up at me, her lips parting as if to speak.

“Well?” I ask, my voice cracking.

“It’s…” She pauses, her expression softening. “Austin, it’s positive.”

When the room tilts, I grip the doorframe to steady myself.

I feel like I’m going to pass out.

Faint.

Literally topple over.

Dolly is at my side in an instant, wrapping me in a hug. “It’s okay—you can take another one to be sure.”

I nod, filling with dread.

Dolly hands me another small, white box, her hands trembling enough that I notice. I take the second test, removing the plastic stick from its plastic wrapper.

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