Chapter 16: The Pregnancy Scare

Two days after Mom’s SUV pulled back into the driveway, the house had slipped into its old rhythm—her humming in the kitchen, the faint scent of her lavender lotion drifting upstairs, everything looking perfectly normal from the outside. But inside me, nothing was normal. I stood in the upstairs bathroom with the door locked, heart hammering so hard the pulse echoed in my ears. The little white stick lay on the sink edge, two stark lines staring back at me. Negative. But my period was still three days late after the nonstop breeding marathon of Mom’s business trip—the hotel window fuck, the garage anal creampie on the truck hood, the couch rides while Dad worked, every load pumped deep while he whispered about swelling me with his baby.

Terror and twisted excitement crashed through me in equal waves. What if the test was wrong? What if Dad had actually knocked me up? What if I was carrying my own father’s baby right now, my belly already starting to round with the secret we could never tell anyone? The fantasy hit harder than the fear—me sneaking to the garage every morning for him to feel the swell, his hands possessive over the proof that I was his in the deepest way. My thighs pressed together, fresh slick blooming despite the panic. I was soaked. Again. The same shameful heat that started the night I peeked through the garage door and recorded him fucking that stranger on the very truck now parked outside.

Mom’s laugh floated up from the living room—she was watching some reality show, wine glass clinking against the coffee table, completely oblivious. My fingers shook as I typed the text to Dad.

Period still late. Just took a test. Negative ... but I’m scared. Garage. Now.

The reply came before I could even set the phone down: Garage. Now.