“Another three minutes.”
I twist my fingers together. “Why is this taking so long?”
“Camreigh, just breathe, babe.”
“Easy for you to say. You might not be pregnant by some biker you had a one-night stand with. And need I remind you I don’t even know his fucking name. How embarrassing is that?”
“You won’t be the first or last single mother. Though I guess you could always go back to that bar and see if you run into him.”
I snap my eyes shut and bite back my tears. What the hell am I going to do? I’m in no way, shape, or form prepared to be a mother. I work part time at a daycare. I struggle to support myself as it is. I’m on the verge of an eviction notice every month. I don’t have any savings. I’m a damn mess.
The timer on her cellphone beeps. “It’s time.”
I suck in a breath and walk into the bathroom. I grab the two plastic sticks and shove them toward Tina. “You look. I don’t think I can.”
“Fine. You big baby.” She takes the two tests and looks at them with a straight face.
“Well? No. Wait. Don’t tell me yet. I’m not ready.” I shake my hand and suck in a breath. “Okay. Just give it to me straight. I’m a big girl I can handle it.”
I look at my best friend in the whole world not knowing what I want her to tell me. I have gone my whole life thinking that a child of my own was out of the question and now there is a possibility that it could happen. Part of me wants to be like wow but then the practical side of me knows that I’m not ready for the responsibility, but who is?
“Do you want to sit down?”
“Just tell me!”
“Congrat…ulations,” she says the word slow and uneasy. “You’re pregnant. Both are positive.”
I think I am going to pass out. “I need to sit down.” I collapse on the couch and put a hand to my forehead. I feel faint.
**
One month later
“Oh man.” I gag and sniffle as dust motes swirl around my face. “When was the last time anyone was in here?” I look to my Uncle Cooter for an answer, but he ignores me. I fan my arms around hoping to clear some of it away but don’t have much success. I look down at my fingers and wipe the muck off on my pant leg. My jeans are filthy anyway from moving these old boxes and crates around that have probably been sitting in this room longer than I’ve been alive.
“Cooter, you around?” I hear a deep voice boom as heavy footsteps start thundering up the stairs. A shadow falls over the doorway. I look over and my eyes land on large black boots attached to long thick legs. My eyes flit up to his broad chest that is covered in a leather vest over a white tight-fitting t-shirt with the name Saw sewn onto it that houses two very tattooed and muscular arms. “Cooter,” the deep voice barks again at my hard of hearing uncle.
“What?” the old man crows.
“Rebel said you needed some help.” Our eyes meet and he rolls his lips inward. Saw has dark hair that flops over his forehead but is cut short on the sides and just enough stubble on his jaws that it would tickle my thighs. I blush at the thought as his green eyes move over me.
“Yeah. My niece, Camreigh, is moving in. Whatever she needs you do it. Got it.” He shoves past him without another word. My uncle is a grouchy old bastard, but I love him.
“Got it.” Saw enters the small apartment over the bakery. It belonged to my cousin, Owen and his partner Jude but they’ve been in California for years and aren’t returning anytime soon. Aunt Char has used the place for storage for her bakery downstairs.
“Camreigh, like the car?” he wears an amused grin.
“No, as in the girl who will be riding your ass today to do the heavy lifting. Can you handle that?”
“What’s in it for me?”
I plant a hand on my hip. “A cookie.”
“A cookie?” He chuckles with a shake of his head and runs his fingers through his hair brushing it back from his forehead. The action is wasted. The dark strands fall back in place.
“Works on my kids.”
“You don’t look old enough to have kids.”