Page 12 of Hung Up on the Hacker

“We’re a little overwhelmed.” Tightening her arms around the child, Mia pressed a kiss to his tousled brown hair.

The gesture made Hadley’s throat tighten. Some women were just maternal. She hadn’t expected that of Brax’s contractor wife, but it just went to show that those instincts were in there for a lot of women. Her mom definitely hadn’t been one of them, and Hadley was pretty sure she didn’t have the gene either. That was fine. She was rocking favorite aunt territory.

Shaking off the feeling, she offered them a smile. “Totally understandable.”

“His sister, Dakota, is around here somewhere. Probably near Brax. Those two are thick as thieves.”

“And no wonder, given all the upheaval they’ve had,” Cayla said.

Mia’s expression sobered. “Never again. We’ve still got a few months before the adoption can be finalized, but our social worker is hopeful, and so are we.”

Hadley knew from her brother that Mia and her husband had been foster kids themselves, so it didn’t surprise her they’d opted to go that route for their family. What would her life have been like if Holt hadn’t broken his back to make sure she was taken care of so that Social Services didn’t come sniffing around? She didn’t know what these kids had come from, but she could take a guess.

“They’ll definitely be better off with you two as parents.”

Mia smiled, snuggling her son. “We think so.”

“We’re not too far out from dinner,” Rachel put in. “What’s your pleasure to drink? Are you feeling better?”

“Much, thanks. Food and a nap and some pampering did the trick. Iced tea is fine.”

“Oh, were you sick?” Cayla asked.

“Just a little stomach thing this morning. No big deal.”

The back door opened again, and Holt strode inside. “Oh hey, Squirt.”

“Jerkface.”

Her brother grinned before turning to his wife. “Hey babe, where’s the marinade? I need to baste the chicken again.”

Cayla handed over a jar and basting brush, accepting a lingering kiss. Yep, totally nutso for each other. That new niece or nephew would be coming along any time now.

Through the still open door, Hadley got a whiff of whatever was cooking and felt her stomach pitch. The hard, sharp certainty that she was about to vomit had her making excuses. “I’m just gonna go use the restroom before dinner.”

The door to the hall bathroom was closed and locked.

Crap. Bile rose in her throat. She did not want to throw up in front of everyone.

“Oh, one of the kids is in there. Go on back to our room,” Cayla called.

Shooting her a thumbs up, Hadley made her way to the master bedroom, just barely managing not to run. As soon as she shut the door, she bolted for the bathroom, shutting that door, too, before stumbling toward the toilet and dropping to her knees to retch. Very little came up, but her stomach continued to cramp. She curled over the bowl for a couple minutes until the wave passed. Cautiously optimistic it was over, she wiped her mouth with a wad of tissue and sank back against the wall, trying to catch her breath.

What the hell was going on? Food poisoning shouldn’t last this long. And she’d felt absolutely fine after she’d eaten this morning. Why did this nausea keep coming back? Some kind of blood sugar issue? A stomach bug?

Her gaze fell to the open box of pregnancy tests on the back of the toilet and the bottom dropped out of her world.

No. Oh no. It can’t be that.

Her mind scrambled to do the math. What the hell day was it? She counted back, then forward again. Shit. Shit! She should’ve started more than a week ago. Work had been insane, and she’d been focused on Cash, then on being pissed at Cash.

It might be nothing. It couldn’t be this. They’d been careful, always using birth control. She was on the pill, and they always used condoms. Well, except for once or twice in the shower. They were responsible, damn it. She’d have insisted on it, even if he hadn’t. So it couldn’t be that.

But what if it wasn’t nothing?

Hadley’s lungs began to constrict as the panic took hold. There was simply no way she could go back out there and act normal through this dinner without knowing for sure.

Surging to her feet, she snagged one of the tests from the box and ripped it open, following the instructions on the insert with fumbling fingers. She didn’t think. She didn’t pray. She barely even breathed as she stared at the second hand on her watch, ticking in what felt like an endless circle. Once. Twice. Three times.

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