Page 94 of Flat Out
Heat flooded my cheeks, shame and fear twining together, becauseshe had no idea. No one did on this planet except for me and a handful of medical professionals. And yet, I couldn’t stop the stupid tears that welled.
Ugh.
“It’s nothing,” I insisted, paranoid now as I glanced down the hall to make sure no one else was around. “My period’s due next week, and my body’s killing me because of my car’s setup. I’m hoping to have enough evidence this week to confront the FIA.”
Ivy lifted my sweater to hook the mic pack into my jeans, and then stepped back, glancing down at me. With heels on, she towered over me, and I don’t think I had ever felt smaller. I swallowed down the taste of bile, doing everything I could to keep it down.
“You’d feel better if you took a test. Better to know than to wonder.”
“No.” The word came too fast and too loud. My head shook before I could stop it, and I immediately regretted it when the dizziness hit. “No, because I already know how it ends. I’ve been here before. I’m not doing it again. I can’t.”
She swallowed, and for the first time ever, I saw raw emotion flood her features. Her eyes became glassy and red, and her shoulders dropped. “That doesn’t mean this time will be the same.”
I loved how we were speaking the same language without voicing it out loud, but I needed to. I needed to get it out. I needed to cry, scream, throw something, pull at my fucking hair and demand why life was so cruel.
The one thing–theone fucking thing–that I would never be able to give Callum.
And for so many, that was a dealbreaker.
It was why the situationship with my ex, Santino, worked. He was old enough to never want children. I let myself believe in that fantasy for way too fucking long, and now…
“It does,” I whispered, voice cracking. “I’ve been told for years that I’mbasically infertile. My cycle means nothing. Hoping is fucking pointless, Ivy. And I’ve had the–the–” I gestured at my womb, trying to think of the term in English, but thankfully she put me out of my misery.
“IUD?”
“Ouais, that. I’ve had it for years to… to keep me from ever believing it could be different.”
She reached out and brushed my hair over my shoulder, and I dropped my head as the tears finally fell.
For all the feminism I stood for, for every woman I fought for, and I couldn’t even do the one fucking thing I was created to do. It didn’t matter that I’d nevertriedfor a child–I’d been too career-oriented my whole life–it was that the choice was stripped from me before I ever took my first breath.
“That doesn’t mean it’s impossible, Frenchie.” Her tone was so gentle, so full of compassion, that it made me glance up at her. I was surprised to see a mirrored pain.
“Yes, it does. Because even when it happens, it ends in loss. This has been my shadow for years. It’s easier to assume my body will always betray me. ”
She frowned. “That’s what you meant when you said you’ve been here before?” I nodded slowly, and her face fell, sorrow tugging the edges of her pouty mouth down. “I’m sorry.”
I shook my head vehemently. “Don’t. Don’t do that. I don’t need pity. I was simply confiding in you.”
“It’s not pity, Aurélie. It’sempathy.” She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared down at our feet. “I have PCOS.”
I blinked. “What?”
Ivy gave me a bitter smile, her top lip curling back enough to express her. “Polycystic ovary syndrome. PCOS. Means my hormones have been a circus since I was a teenager. My cycles are unpredictable, sometimes I don’t ovulate at all, and the pain can be—” she cut herself off, waving a hand in frustration. “Doctors brushed it off for years. ‘It’s stress, it’s diet, it’s nothing serious.’ Partners brushed me off too. One even told me I was ‘damaged goods.’”
I gasped.
She barked out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, true story. So I let it convince me I wasn’t enough. That my worth was tied to whatmy body could give someone else, and since it couldn’t give them children, I wasn’t worth loving.”
The words cracked something deep inside me. Because they were my words, too.
It felt like something unseen had stitched itself between us in that moment—two women cut from different cloths, yet carrying the same weight in their marrow. Not friends in the shallow, social sense.Friend soulmates.Kindred spirits pulled toward each other by an invisible force that whispered of protection and loyalty, of seeing and being seen. She was sharp edges where I was raw nerves, but the connection was undeniable. A protector and the protected, trading roles without asking.
And the strangest part? I’d only ever let Callum see me like this—stripped bare, vulnerable, unflinching in my truths. Letting anyone else close enough to touch that ache felt impossible. But with Ivy, it wasn’t impossible. It was instinct. As if the universe had decided that somehow, we were meant to find each other in this brutal sport, meant to stand shoulder to shoulder when the rest of the world tried to chip us down.
I looked up at her, tears spilling unchecked. “That’s exactly how it feels. Like it was decided for me before I had a chance. Like my choice was stolen.”
Ivy sniffled, a lone tear slipping free. There was no smirk, no armor. She reached out, cupping my face, her voice low and certain. “But it doesn’t define me. And it doesn’t define you. If Fraser loves you—and I know he does—this won’t break you. Don’t let your body be the thing that convinces you otherwise.”
