Page 36 of Pucking Christmas Triplets Surprise

“Yes.”

Dr. Kelly gives a small nod, as she kicks back on her seat. “Alright,” she says, her voice soothing. “These symptoms could be many things, but I want to make sure there isn't something serious causing your abdominal pain first.”

I nod stiffly, feeling my mother’s eyes boring into me, a silent question I can’t quite face yet. My cheeks burn with embarrassment, and I curl my hands into fists to stop them from trembling. The room feels too small, the air too thick, and my heart beats frantically in my chest.

Dr. Kelly gives me a reassuring smile as she prepares the needed to draw blood, her movements smooth and practiced. “It’s just a quick check, don’t worry,” she says, her voice soft as she lifts up my gown and places the gel on my abdomen, the cold shock of it making me flinch.

I try to relax, but I clench my hands in my lap, fear of what this could mean bubbling under my skin. My career. The olympics. My mother’s damning stare. Christopher. Oh my fucking God, Christopher.

Dr. Kelly turns the machine on, and the soft hum fills the room as the screen flickers tolife. I can barely focus on the image at first, my vision clouded with nerves, but then I catch a glimpse—a small, dark shape on the screen.

“That’s your uterus,” Dr. Kelly explains gently, moving the wand around to get a clearer picture. “I’m looking for anything unusual, any signs of inflammation, or infection.”

I try to follow her words, but my heart is pounding too loudly in my ears.

She pauses for a moment, her fingers gliding over the screen. I glance over at the monitor, but I don’t recognize what I’m seeing. It’s all blurry, and barely there, yet so there.

“There’s something here,” Dr. Kelly murmurs, her tone shifting slightly. She doesn’t sound alarmed, but there’s a note of something I can’t place. “It’s very early, but I think we might be looking at a pregnancy. Let me look at your blood work and urine test results.”

My breath catches in my throat. A thousand thoughts swirl in my mind, and my heart races at a speed I didn’t think was possible. My body freezes, the room spinning around me, the hum of the machine now deafening.

My mother doesn’t speak, doesn’t even move, but I feel her presence more than ever. My face is flushed with embarrassment, and panic, a need to run as fast as I can.

“Alright, Josie, so there are a couple of things…” the voice of the Doctor fades out, time seems to speed like it is running to a finish line.

My mother is responding to the doctor for me. The doctor is nodding, saying something about prenatal care, and options but all I can hear is my skates on the ice and Christopher’s voice booming across the rink, and it all feels so unattainable now.

The sound of the door slamming against the wall snaps me out of my daze, the sharp noise followed by a nurse’s voice, shouting at someone to stay back. I blink rapidly, trying to focus, and then I see him—Christopher, disheveled and frantic, his eyes wild with worry as he bursts into the room.

His gaze locks onto mine, and for a split second, I’m hit with the weight of howrealeverything is, but all I want to do is go back to three weeks ago when he whispered in my hairI love youuntil we fell asleep. His footsteps are quick as he crosses the room, his face pale with panic. “Josie,” he breathes, his voice a mixture of relief and concern. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

My mother clears her throat. “We’ll give you two a moment.”. She turns, her heels clicking as she walks out of the room, the doctor hot on her tail, and I’m left alone with Christopher.

His presence fills the space between us, his worry radiating off of him as he hovers near me. I feel like I’m drowning in his gaze, his deep-sea eyes searching mine for answers. I want to tell him everything. The word crawls up my throat. The fear gnawing at me. But I can’t say it. I won’t.

“I—” My voice catches, and I swallow, the lump in my throat refusing to go away. My hands curl into fists at my sides, the cold of the room seeping into my skin. “I’m fine,” I say, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. “Just... just hold me, please.”

He doesn’t hesitate, his arms wrapping around me in an instant. His warmth, his steadiness, is a comfort I didn’t realize I needed until this moment. His hand presses gently against the back of my head as he pulls me into his chest, his heart beating in a steady rhythm against my ear. I close my eyes, nuzzling in his chest. I don’t want him to see the truth in my eyes. I don’t want him to know what I’m really feeling. So, Ibury my face deeper into his chest, letting his scent of smoke and cedar wood, his touch, be the only thing that matters for now enveloping me.

“I’m here,” he whispers into my hair, his voice low and steady, a promise that only makes me want to cry.

CHAPTER 16

JOSIE

Right. Left. Side. Tuck and-

“Again.” Christopher’s voice ricochets across the ice, as I land, hunching over on my knees. “You’re not getting the height you're supposed to.”

My body rings, every muscle crying out against me, but I hold on, swallowing the tart taste running across my tongue. The cold air of the rink stings my face as I straighten up, my muscles aching, but the nausea churning inside me threatens to bring me to my knees. My breath is shallow, labored, as I press my hand to my stomach, willing the sickness to go away.

Three weeks ago the cold of the rink helped ebb away at my nausea. The rink felt like the only place I could escape, the only place where the world didn't feel so heavy, but now I can’t keep anything down. My body hurts just to twitch, every muscle screaming at me with every turn, every landing, every jump. The constant ache in my bones acts as a constant reminder that something is wrong, and that I can’t keep pushing through it.

I should be six weeks pregnant by now. Six weeks. That means the baby is the size of a pea, and the heart is beginning to beat. He or she has arms, legs and menial brain development, but they are alive, already relying on me, already wanting me to take care of them. That should mean something, other than fear, and all I can think about is my mother.

She cooked Thanksgiving with the help of Christopher and Abby. No one let me in the kitchen in fear I would collapse again and I spent all afternoon dry heaving from the smell in the bedroom I share with Chris. The day after she kissed my forehead and whispered,tell that man the truth, or lose him.And now at six weeks, I can only think about losing him.

I force myself to stand, legs shaky as I brace myself for another attempt. My skates slice into the ice, carving out the motion I’ve done a thousand times, but this time, it feels wrong. Every part of me feels wrong.

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