Page 63 of Mountain Mens' Curvy Obsession

Five minutes later, I’ve washed my face and rinsed my mouth with some of Breonna’s mouthwash. Slowly but surely, I pull myself together and step out of the bathroom, only to find Breonna worriedly waiting for me.

“What’s wrong?”

“I puked my guts out,” I nervously chuckle. “But I cleaned up after myself. So sorry about that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. But what’s going on? Was it the memory? Did it… I don’t know, trigger this reaction?”

I shake my head slowly. “No, I’ve been having these bouts of nausea for about a week. It has to be the stress of this entire situation. It was bound to get to me sooner or later.”

“Anya, when’s the last time you got your period?” Breonna asks.

Frozen in the bathroom doorway, I give her a confused glare. “What?”

“When is the last time you got your period?”

Heat courses through me as the realization slowly sets in. “I don’t remember. Not since the accident.”

“Over a month ago.”

“Almost two months. A month and a half, a month and three weeks…”

Breonna shrugs lightly, motioning for me to follow her back to the kitchen. “I ask because you mentioned your heightened sensitivity to smells and tastes, too. That you can’t stand the smell of scotch anymore. Then there was my tuna steak casserole that made you iffy, but I know for a fact all the ingredients I used were good.”

“Oh, God.”

“Here,” she says, fishing a pregnancy test box out of a catchall kind of drawer in her kitchen, where she keeps a few over-the-counter medications. “You might want to take this and see what it says.”

I stare at the box. I can’t even move. Yet, this shouldn’t come as a shock either. Lord knows we were never careful in any of our lovemaking. The chemistry between the Hayes brothers and me has been so intense, so all-consuming, that I didn’t even consider the risks.

“If I’m pregnant,” I mumble mostly to myself, “what do I do?”

“Anya, if it makes you feel better, if you are pregnant, your secret’s safe with me. There are options, just so you know. You won’t be alone in any of this,” Breonna replies, her tone softer, more compassionate than ever.

She been growing on me since the awkward pecan pie breakfast debacle. I think she finally understands that I’m not her enemy, and that what happened between her and my men belongs in the past. It doesn’t stop her from the occasional prickly statement, but I’ve learned not to take anything she says personally.

“I can’t tell them,” I whisper. “Not right now, anyway.”

“It’s okay. I certainly won’t say a word, but you need to know for sure.”

I look at her with genuine fright. “Right now?”

“Why postpone it?”

“Fair enough…”

Five more minutes pass, and I come out of the bathroom even paler. Not from a returning bout of nausea, but from having watched the pregnancy test deliver a resounding plus sign. Breonna doesn’t need to see it for herself to realize what’s going on.

She hugs me tightly, and all I can do is soften in her embrace, finding a smidgen of comfort as she tries to soothe my bubbling anxiety.

“It’s still early,” Breonna says. “You’ve got time, Anya.”

“Yeah.”

“Whatever you need, just say the word. I’m here for you.”

“Thank you.”

What will the Hayes brothers think about this? It’s the worst possible time for starting a family. I can barely remember my past, let alone focus on the future. I’m not even safe, not with Leo Sokolov potentially coming after me. Nico and the sheriff did their best to throw him off my scent, but that’s not a guarantee.

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