“I know. I will. And your brother—”
“Don’t worry about my brother. Jameson’s like a goddamn cat with nine hundred lives. This time next week, he’ll be the golden boy at French’s again. And if not, the heavies who run the fights will all be dead and Jameson’ll be living in their houses, fucking their wives, and their kids will be calling him daddy. He always lands on his feet, you know? But your friend…”
I nod, staring at my coffee. She’s right. Ben never lands on his feet. Ben has the worst luck in the whole fucking world.
Chapter Fourteen
SLOANE
I’ve lost count of the times I’ve been afraid over the past year. I don’t seem to recall a week where I haven’t had reason to be afraid. Okay, since Charlie Holsan died and Zeth took over the gym, things have quietened down, but even that quiet has been punctuated with spells of panic. You ask yourself, how long can this possibly last? How much time will pass before something terrible happens? Before the grim reaper comes knocking on your door. I know better than that; the grim reaper doesn’t knock. He sneaks into your house, unbidden, without your knowledge or consent. He takes without asking, and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. But still, it doesn’t stop you from trying to hold back disaster. You still end up with your back pressed up against the door, heels digging into the ground, trying to prevent the inevitable.
I thought I’d reached the limit, maxed out the human capacity to experience fear, and yet as I stare down at the slender piece of plastic in my hands, eyes fixed on the brazen pink + sign filling the tiny display window, I know a pure and paralyzing fear the likes of which I’ve never encountered before.
Pregnant?
How the fuck can I be pregnant?
I know the answer to that very obvious question: I was sick. I took antibiotics that screwed with my birth control, and then I had wild, animalistic sex with my boyfriend, and he came deep inside me. I remember the particular incident all too well. But that’s not what I’m asking. How could fate have permitted such a thing to happen? How could the universe have stood by and let life spark and form inside me, when I am who I am, a woman constantly balancing on the precipice of danger? A woman in love with a man who will probably end up shot and killed someday? I knew what I was getting myself into when I allowed myself to fall for Zeth. I was all too aware of the dangers and the risks, and I accepted them all because the reward of loving him was far greater than the fear of losing him. But this little baby inside me? This baby doesn’t have a fucking clue who its father is. It doesn’t know who its mother is, either. It didn’t get to choose us, the way I chose Zeth. It seems outrageous that such a tragic thing has been allowed to come to pass.
My eyes have misted over. I don’t know how long I lean up against the wall of the bathroom, staring at the pregnancy test in my hands, but when I finally manage to pull myself together my shoulder is aching like a bitch and my eyes feel very dry, like I haven’t blinked in a really long time. I want to cry. I want to dash over to the hospital and grab another three tests so I can do them all again, praying as I wait for each result to develop that the first was wrong somehow. It would be a waste of time, though. I know the test isn’t wrong. The body doesn’t lie. As if to prove that point, my stomach heaves and roils as I hurry out of the bathroom and downstairs into the kitchen. The house is filled with an oppressive silence, as though the walls were inhaling and exhaling a little while ago but now they have stopped, now holding their breath, now waiting for what comes next.
I have no fucking clue what comes next.
Ernie raises his head as I enter the kitchen. The small nub of his docked tail slides back and forth on the tile like a windscreen wiper as he watches me pour myself a glass of water from the tap and down it in one go. He makes a comical yowling sound, little schnauzer eyebrows raised, head angled to one side, like he’s trying to ask me what’s wrong.