Page 68 of Slap Shot Daddies

“I know,” she says gently. “But you’ve got me. You’ve got them. You’re not doing this alone.”

I nod even though she can’t see me. Her words anchor me, just barely.

“I’m bringing tests. Sit tight.”

“Okay.” My voice is small.

The line goes dead, and I’m left in the quiet waiting for her knock. Sleep overtakes me as I rest my head on the arm of the couch.

Ally’s knock on the door jolts me awake.

I stumble across the room, my feet dragging slightly, and pull the door open. There stands Ally, clutching a pharmacy bag tightly against her chest, her eyes brimming with warmth and concern.

Without uttering a single word, she steps into the room and envelops me in a comforting embrace.

“Oh, sweetie,” she murmurs tenderly, her fingers gently stroking my hair. “I’ve got you.”

Tears spill silently down my cheeks as I clutch her back, sinking deeply into her warmth. Her hug feels like a lifeline.

She pulls back slightly, her eyes scanning my face with a careful, attentive gaze. “You okay?” she asks softly.

I nod, though my lower lip trembles slightly. “I just…I’m so scared. And embarrassed. And…everything.”

“I get it,” she responds with a gentle assurance. “But whatever happens, you’ve got a village behind you. Me, those boys…hell, I’ll bring my triplets over to babysit if we need to.”

A weak laugh escapes me, a small release of the tension coiled inside.

We move together to the couch, where she sets the pharmacy bag down with a soft crinkle, its contents shifting.

With a flourish, she pulls out five different pregnancy test boxes, fanning them out like a deck of playing cards.

“Five? Really?” I arch an eyebrow in mild disbelief.

“We’re getting answers,” she declares with mock authority, her tone playful yet determined. “Pee on one of each. We’ll use all fifteen if we have to, but I think we’ll know by the first couple.”

A nervous feeling bubbles up from within me. I gather the tests in my hands, heading toward the bathroom with Ally’s reassuring presence at my back.

This is real.

My heart pounds loudly in my chest, but I know I won’t have to face this alone.

We sit cross-legged on my cozy, overstuffed couch, staring intently at the coffee table as if it holds the secrets of the universe.

Five white plastic tests are meticulously lined up, their results developing with an excruciating slowness. My stomach twists in tight knots and not from nausea, but from the sheer, overwhelming nerves within me.

Ally squeezes my hand, her touch warm and grounding like a lifeline in a turbulent sea. “Whatever happens, you’ll be okay.”

I try to believe her words, though doubt weighs heavily on me. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I’m pregnant. My parents will…God, Ally, you don’t understand. They’re Ohio conservative. They still call jeans ‘worldly’,” I say, the irony laced with a hint of despair.

She snorts, a sound that’s both amused and incredulous. “Well, they’re gonna love hearing about your three boyfriends, then.”

I groan, a sound caught between laughter and the urge to throw up again. “I can’t tell them. Ever. They’ll disown me.”

“Maybe that’s not the worst thing,” she says gently, her words laced with understanding.

Tears well in my eyes, threatening to spill over. “They’re still my family. Even if they’re,” I pause, searching for the right word, “suffocating.”

Ally nods, her expression one of empathetic resolve. “But this is your life. And if you want this baby, or these babies, if you end up pulling anAlly, then it’s your choice.”

---