Page 88 of Ready or Knot

Jude glances at us both, his frown set deep, his jaw clenched. Her murmured words are almost too soft to hear, but they ring through me like a death knell all the same.

“I’m, uh, pregnant.”

Thirty-Four

FAEDRA

My chest aches, and the spot between my ribs where the tube that’s keeping my lung from collapsing again sits itches like hell. My hand with the IV burns, and I can’t seem to feel like I can get a deep enough breath without it shooting a pain through my sternum. And yet none of that competes with the nerves settling heavily in my stomach and making my throat itch with nausea.

“What?” Logan asks after what feels like forever.

Did he really not hear me? I guess I did say it pretty softly. I lick my lips and try again.

“I’m pregnant.” It’s still much too quiet for it to be anything other than a whisper. It feels just as surreal to say it as it did to hear the doctor tell me. When the guys don’t say anything, I continue. “She said they run a standard blood work panel, and that’s one of the things they screen. It came back positive.” My voice is scratchy, and I twist my hands into the blanket at my waist to keep from picking at the tape on my hand.

Logan sets the takeout container on the end of the bed, carefully avoiding my feet, and then grabs his hair. His eyes are wide, his mouth slightly ajar. Jude is eerily still beside me, but Carter doesn’t miss a beat, squeezing my thigh and taking my hand in his, running his thumb over my knuckles.

“What do you want to do?” he asks after a minute.

I frown. “Like right now? I’d really like a shower and for someone to help me with my hair.”

Carter’s lips tick up in a small half smile, but he shakes his head. “Not what I meant, little Omega.”

I mess with my tragus piercing, twisting the small flower around, unsure what to say.

“Carter’s trying to be tactful, Red. It’s in his blood.” Logan blows out a breath, but his eyes stay locked on me, his shoulders dropping. “Do you want an abortion?”

My knee jerk reaction is to say yes, but I keep from saying it out loud. It feels like something we should all agree on together. It’s not like I got into the situation on my own.

Right?

I bite my lip again, the pain from where I previously split it open grounding me in a weird macabre way that has me even more unsettled. Carter runs his thumb over my knuckles again, his touch soft, and the confusion sitting on my chest like a freight train doubles.

“What do you want to do?” I ask after a moment, my voice breathless, scratchy.

Logan shakes his head. “Not our choice to make, Red. It’s your body.”

My stomach flutters, and I swallow around the lump in my throat. It feels too overwhelming to think about right now. I don’t want to have to make the choice on my own.

“But we’re a pack,” I say, trying to convince them to help me decide. “It’s not a decision that just impacts me.”

“Faedra,” Jude murmurs, and I swallow again, my mouth suddenly dry. He tucks his finger under my chin and tilts my head back until our eyes lock. “If this isn’t something you want and we pressure you into it, you will spend your life resenting us. Do not ask us to consent to that. You need to make the right choice for you.”

Curse him for being logical.

“I...” I lick my lips, and Carter tightens his hold on my fingers. Too much has happened today for me to be able to think objectively about any of this. “I need more time.”

Logan pulls the chairs from the table, offering one to both Jude and Carter before stepping out to the hallway. He’s back a minute later with the nurse who smiles at me while grabbing a set of gloves from the boxes arranged on the wall.

“You’re wanting to take a shower, Faedra?” she asks. I glance at Logan, blushing, and he shrugs. When I nod, she maneuvers around Carter, messing with the equipment next to the bed, and then helps me stand, going slow enough that I don’t feel out of breath.

Fifteen awkward minutes later, Logan sits beside me feeding me bits of their dinner, Jude holds my non-IV hand, and Carter checks his phone from where he perches on the sofa under the window. There’s a soft knock on the door, and Carter crosses the room to open it.

“Is now a good time?” Violet’s question is soft, hesitant, and it has my gut clenching all over again. Violet is neither of those things. Logan offers me another piece of dinner, and I smile, nodding when Jude tightens his hold on my hand.

“Come in, Violet,” Jude says a moment later. There’s shuffling behind Logan, but I can’t see beyond the machine that’s hooked up to my IV. Carter leans against the wall, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, his polo unbuttoned, his wavy hair messier than normal. Violet’s changed into a set of black shorts and a band tee—this one Lana Del Rey. Her eyes are red and puffy, like she’s been crying the entire afternoon since everything happened at the festival.

I hold out my hand to her, and she steps up beside Logan, taking my outstretched fingers in her grasp, beyond gentle in her touch, and my throat feels tight.

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