Page 114 of Rescue (Brazen Bulls Birthright 2)

As usual, her tummy twitched happily at the casual way he said that.

“I don’t know. Not late. Hannah will be unbearable by mid-afternoon. Probably four or so?”

“Excellent. We’re in the chapel at noon, but otherwise, far as I know, I don’t have anything but my shift at the station. You want to go out for dinner somewhere tonight? Maybe a movie?”

Whatever dark work he’d done at the beginning of the month, whatever shenanigans the Bulls were up to these days, they were now in a quiet period, apparently. The club’s cycle of action and idleness, violence and peace was as familiar to Kelsey as her own voice, but, like the sound of her own voice, it would never not be strange. Even during the really bad years, what the club called ‘the Perro years,’ when people she knew and cared about were dying and being hurt at a terrifying rate—and Kelsey understood exactly as much about all that as she cared to—there had been long spells of seeming normalcy interrupting the lockdowns and hospital visits and funerals.

She leaned back on his chest. “Dinner and a movie sounds perfect.”

“Excellent.” He kissed her head. “I better get dressed and get out of here. Have fun today. I love you.”

“And I love you.”

He left the bathroom, wading through the dogs in the hallway. Charlie followed him, as always.

Kelsey went back to her makeup.

This felt like what her parents had. This felt like what love should be.

~oOo~

About half an hour later, after Dex was gone and she was shoes and coat away from being ready to go herself, Kelsey got a text from Sandra, the director of an animal rescue in Broken Arrow.

Hey Kelsey

We’re talking about doing an

adoption fair at Aspen Creek Park

in March, when the weather’s better

would you be available to do your thing?

No date official yet, so we could be flexible.

As part of the clinic’s community outreach, in addition to the discounted neutering they offered, the vets went to shelters and fairs, like the one Sandra was planning, to educate potential adopters about health and wellness for rescued animals. Many of the people who did rescue work were nearly as knowledgeable about all that as veterinarians, but people tended to take what doctors said more to heart.

She really liked that work. Lots of happy people and excited animals. So she opened the calendar on her phone to see what her March weekends looked like.

Before she could swipe to March, she noticed the bright orange highlight on yesterday’s date.

She was supposed to have gotten her period.

The spring she was fourteen, she’d gotten her first period. By the time school started in the fall, her cycle was so regular she could time it to the hour. Every twenty-eight days, four days long, starting around nine in the morning on the first day, ending around six in the evening on the fourth.

She had an alert set, just to be safe, but she never needed it and usually swiped it away without thinking about it—which, obviously, she’d done yesterday.

Except she hadn’t gotten her period.

Okay, well, no big. Lots of changes this month, lots of new stuff and big emotions. All that had probably messed with her cycle a little. It probably also accounted for why she hadn’t noticed.

Then she thought about how her yogurt had tasted funny this morning. And the banana, too. And how she felt sort of vaguely … off. Not sick or anything, not nauseated. Just off.

And then she remembered that they hadn’t used protection once on their first night, when she’d woken and found Dex sitting on the side of her bed. They’d been careful every time since, and that first night had been just a couple days after the end of her period, so it shouldn’t—

Dropping everything, she hurried to the bathroom and checked her underwear. Nothing. At all. In fact, she didn’t feel that subtle heaviness she always felt between her legs during the first couple days.

She put her hands on her breasts and pushed around. Not sore. But that could go either way—sore boobs was a symptom of both menstruation and pregnancy.

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