Page 160 of Straight to Me

I wake slowly to Dean stroking my hair. I must have dozed off in his arms. “Let me take you up to bed,” he says, moving gently to scoop me up. I nod. Dean lifts and carries me, taking me into the bathroom and putting me down slowly. “I had Travis get your things from Jess’s, I’ll go grab them.” At the mention of Travis’s name, I feel guilty about him following me around the past few days.

“Can you give him a day off tomorrow?” Dean turns back to look at me from the doorway.

“Who, Travis?” I nod, rubbing my sleepy eyes open.

Dean smiles. “He was impressed you punched Chris.”

“He deserved it for thinking I’d happily go back to him after everything.” Dean's eyes widen.Probably shouldn’t have divulged that piece of information. He’ll hate him even more.

“He thought you’d get back with him?” he asks as if he’s lost something.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, not wanting to get into it right now. I unzip my jacket and shake my arms free. I look at where he stands looking dejected, his chin dropped to his chest.

“Please tell me,” he sighs, slowly lifting his head to look at me.

I go over what Chris said and don’t see the harm in telling Dean, “My mum told him I’d had my heart broken. He thought that because I wasn’t theproblem, maybe I’d want to get back with him.” The bitterness in his face turns to a haunted look.

He turns quickly, leaving me alone in the bathroom. Rubbing my face with my hands, I feel shit for telling him what Chris had said about my mum, but it was the truth.

Opening the cupboard door in search of a washcloth, the pregnancy test Dean bought falls out and I automatically react by putting my hands out to catch it. Knowing what I do know, I consider a very real reason for my sickness now.

My eyes lock on the box, unable to look away.

Outside the bathroom, Dean’s feet sound coming back up the stairs. I quickly try to put the box back, but in my attempt to be fast it drops to the floor. Dean steps in as I pick it up. His eyes dart from mine to the test. He doesn’t say a word. I stand slowly and he puts my bag down, placing his hands in his jean pockets.

“It fell out the cupboard,” I panic, turning away to put it back.

“Do you want to take the test?” My hand holding it floats in the air, an ache pushing past my heart. I swallow hard as my eyes mist over.

“Nothing good comes from taking one of these, Dean. You don’t know what it’s like.” He starts walking towards me as my voice cracks. Hugging me close from behind, he kisses the back of my head.

“You don’t have to do it alone. I’m here.”

“But you’re not. Not really.” He sighs deeply into my hair. I turn to face him as his arms drop to his side. “I’ll take the test, but I don’t know where we go from there.”

Crumpling his face, his mouth turns slack. “Give me a minute?” I ask, expecting him to walk out the room.

“I’m not going anywhere, Mads,” he says, reluctant to leave. He leans against the door frame, watching me.

I open the box pulling one out, and taking the lid off the stick, I undo my jeans. As I sit down, warm tears leave my eyes. Dean shifts uncomfortably but keeps his distance. “Now what?” he asks as I stand, putting the lid back on and placing it on the side of the sink.

“We have to wait. Can you pass me my toothbrush?” He leans down, grabbing my washbag from my rucksack. I take it from him and start brushing my teeth. Every minute that passes, I catch his eyes looking to the test in the mirror. He’s fidgeting nervously, waiting to know whether his life’s about to change.

My heart continues to beat wildly as I start removing my makeup. By the time I’m finished, he’s practically a nervous wreck. “Has it been long enough?” he asks, anxiously.

I sit on the toilet and go to take the test off the side, but I can’t. My hand freezes, hovering over it. What if it is positive? What do we do then? And then, what if it isn’t, is that it for me and him?

He walks over and picks it up, slowly moving it to his line of vision. My eyes meet his before he looks down. “I don’t know what I’m looking at.”

Looking to his eyes, I can see he’s holding back tears. “How many lines are there?” I ask.

“There’s one.” A dull murky feeling clouds my every being. Dry juddering sobs start escaping me. “Mads?” he asks, a glint of sorrow in his eye.

“I’m not pregnant.”

Sadness washes over him, not just for him but for me too. Cupping my head in my hands he walks to be by my side. He tries to comfort me, rubbing my back as I cry. With each circle he makes, the guilt once again arrives in an onslaught fashion. “Dean, don’t.” Brushing him off I stand, trying to walk past him.

“Let me look after you.” His words make me stop.

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