Page 18 of To the Stars (Thatch 2)

Knox Alexander: I love you to the stars.

Harlow: To the stars. <3

Present Day—Richland

COLLIN’S HAND RUNNING over my stomach woke me a week after he’d given my keys and purse back, and my body instantly tightened as I prepared for one of two outcomes: him wanting to have sex, or him being pissed-off because I wasn’t already awake and making his breakfast when his alarm went off.

“Good morning,” he murmured against my shoulder.

“Morning,” I said cautiously.

“Do you know what day it is?”

I thought for all of five seconds before it hit me, and dread filled me. It was Saturday. No wonder there had been no alarm; no wonder he wasn’t mad that I wasn’t awake. Weekends were the only days I didn’t have to be up before him with breakfast already made. But I dreaded every other Saturday, only to restart the cycle all over again for two more weeks once the day had passed.

“It’s test day, baby.”

“It is,” I squeaked out, trying to have something that resembled excitement in my voice rather than fear.

“You excited?”

I nodded my head and turned to look up at him. There was an expectant look in his eyes, and a thrill on his face that I knew wouldn’t be there much longer. The anxious thrill never turned to joy, and despite my hate for these days, I prayed it never would.

“Well, let’s go.” He moved quickly off the bed and grabbed my hands, pulling me behind him.

A nervous energy flowed off him and through me, only causing my dread to deepen.

“You’re shaking, baby,” he said when we got into the bathroom. Collin turned to face me and pulled me into his arms. “What’s going on?”

“I just want this,” I choked out, trying to appease him in a vain attempt to have him go easy on me later. But it was a lie. I didn’t want this. Not with him. And I knew that no matter what I said to him now, it wouldn’t change his reaction—it was the same every other week.

“I do, too,” he said softly. Kissing me gently, he released me and bent to pull a pregnancy test out of one of the drawers below our bathroom sinks.

After handing me the foil-wrapped stick, he faced me with his arms crossed over his chest and waited. He wouldn’t leave, and he wouldn’t take his eyes off me; he never did. I tore open the packet and walked to the toilet to pee on the stick. When I was done, he took it from me and set it on the countertop, and just stared.

I walked slowly over to him, my insides twisting and shaking as I briefly glanced at his hopeful expression. He pulled me into his arms so my back was against his chest, and his hands went to my stomach as we waited for three agonizing minutes.

“This is it, I know it is.”

“I hope so, too,” I responded, staring just past the stick to the counter.

The test would be negative, as every test had been, and hopefully would continue to be.

Not long after we’d gotten married and I’d come to understand who Collin really was, I’d gotten a birth control implant in my arm. I knew Collin wanted to have kids early on, and he never wore condoms or let me buy birth control, but I couldn’t bring a child into this life. So I’d gone with the only option I could think of that he wouldn’t find out about.

I still had about six months left before I needed to get a new one, and I knew when that time came, I would do just that. I would take what was about to come for the rest of my life if it meant keeping an innocent child from my monster. I just had to keep praying that it continued to work.

I knew when the results showed by the pause in Collin’s breathing, and the way his fingers went from making lazy circles against my stomach, to digging in. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and sent up a prayer that this would be over soon.

“What . . . the fuck . . . are you taking?”

“Nothing,” I whispered.

“Do not lie to me, Harlow,” he growled. Each word was emphasized as if it were its own sentence. “What are you taking?”

“Nothing. I promise I’m not taking anything.”

“Don’t lie to me!” he roared.

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