Page 35 of Pucking Christmas Triplets Surprise

Suddenly, the smell of the biscuits cooking in the oven, in combination with the eggs on the stove makes my skin feel ice cold.. And then, it happens.

I throw up, as pain flashes across my stomach.

I barely make it to the sink before the bile rises in my throat, and I cough, gasping for air as my body reacts in protest.

“Josie?” Mom’s voice cracks with alarm, and she’s next to me in an instant. “Josie, what’s going on? You don’t look good, honey.”

I shake my head, forcing a weak smile. “Really, I just need some rest. I’ll be fine in a couple of hours. It’s probably just... nothing serious.”

But even as I say the words, I can feel my vision going blurry, the room tilting on its axis. The air feels thin, like I can’t breathe properly, and my chest tightens.

“Josie?” My mom’s voice sounds distant, but I can still hear the worry in her tone. She reaches for me, but my legs give out, and I crumple to the floor in a heap.

Everything goes black before I hit the ground.

The soft beeping of machines is the first thing I hear as I slowly start to regain consciousness. My head feels heavy, there’s a dull ache behind my eyes that pulses with every millisecond, and the room around me is blurry at first, the bright white lights above making my eyes squint as I try to adjust.

I can hear my mom’s voice though the fog of my mind. “But she wasnauseous, and then she just..”

“Has anything changed in her diet, maybe her surroundings?” Another voice says soft but professional.

“Stress. She’s been stressed, but she has always been stressed trying to get to the Olympics, it’s the only thing she obsesses about.” My mother counters, and I sink into the thin mattress. I haven’t thought about skating in weeks now, every thought, every action I take has been consumed by Christopher.

“Sometimes stress can-” the nurse begins, but my mother clicks her tongue at her.

“No, no.” My mother sucks in a sharp breath. “It’s something else. I can feel it.”

I shift in the hospital bed, the rustle of the sheets and the soft beeping of the machines drawing both my mom's attention and that of the nurse she’s speaking with.

“Josie!” My mother shrieks, running over to me with a look of relief washing over her as she bends down beside me. “Thank goodness.”

The woman in pink scrubs and big red hair smiles at me as she walks closer to me. “Hi Josie. I am Nurse Alisha. I am going to let Doctor Kelly know you’re awake.”

I nod, looking at my mother as I try to speak, but my throat feels dry, the words a croaky whisper when I manage, “Mom...w-what happened?”

Mom sighs, moving a strand of my hair behind my ear as I try to piece everything together. The last thing I remember is feeling dizzy, overwhelmed, and then—nothing.

“You passed out, sweetheart,” my mom says, her fingers lingering on my jaw. “You threw up and then... you just collapsed. I got so scared.” Her voice cracks at the end, butshe’s smiling now, relief flooding her features. “The nurse thinks it’s stress, but I think it’s something else, so I’m going to need you to be honest, tell me and the doctor everything, because my gut is telling me something else.”

I nod tightly, my gaze fixed on my fingers, which feel heavy, almost lifeless beside me. I know how I've been feeling—tired, nauseous, sore—but I can't quite piece together what it all adds up to. Before I can find the words to say anything, a woman in a white coat and pale blue scrubs walks in, a gentle smile on her face.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Kelly Mason, you can call me Dr. Kelly” she leans in closer, shining a small light into my eyes to check my pupils, her brow furrowing slightly as she examines me. . "I heard we took a fall?"

I try to hold still, but the bright light makes me squint and look away. My mother answers for me. “She threw up and then collapsed.”

“Any other symptoms before the collapse?” Dr. Kelly questions, leaning forward.

My mother’s graze drills into the side of my head, and I want to crawl into myself as I look down at my hands and whisper. “Tired, nauseous… and sore, like everywhere sore. And my stomach has been pulsating with pain.”

“Sore, where?” The doctor questions, her fingers pressing into my forearm and up my arm.

“My breasts. I cough out, my cheeks turning a heated pink.

Dr. Kelly nods, her fingers stilling as she gently examines my arm before pulling back. “Those symptoms could be related to the fall,” she says thoughtfully, “but they also sound like they could be caused by something else.” Her fingerscrawl over my shoulder as she whispers so gently, I almost miss it. “When was your last menstrual cycle?”

I swallow, my throat tightening as I try to think back. My mind feels foggy, scattered, like I’m grasping at threads that keep slipping away. “Um,” I stammer, shifting uncomfortably on the exam table. “I... I think it was about five weeks ago? Definitely before Halloween.”

Her gaze is kind but direct as she . “Are you sexually active?” she asks, her tone professional.

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