Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 104766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
It's too soon to jump to conclusions, too soon to let fear and worry take over, but her words are hanging in the air like a damn storm cloud threatening to burst.
I take a deep breath, my voice steady despite the turmoil within me.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” More whispered words.
“I think so.”
Does that mean she’s not pregnant anymore?
I clear my throat around the lump forming there, needing to actually ask what’s only in my head. “Does that mean you’re not pregnant anymore?”
She pauses, and I swear I hear her nodding. “I think so.”
I think so.
She’s not pregnant anymore.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask, “How?” Or “Why,” but that would only make me sound stupid and possibly insensitive, so the next thing out of my mouth is, “I’m so sorry.”
Although…
My shoulders sag.
With relief?
With grief?
I have no idea.
All I know is that I’m starting to feel sick in my stomach.
I wish I could reach through the phone and wrap my arms around her to offer the comfort and reassurance that I know she needs.
"I’m so sorry,” I say again on account of I literally have no idea what else to say.
I might be the Sensitive Colter, but I’ve never claimed to have a way with words.
"Honestly, I still hadn’t been to the doctor, figuring that a dozen tests would suffice," Tess says with a strangled laugh. "And I was you know, researching after I went to the bathroom because I wasn’t really sure—and then I called my mom because—moms know stuff. And yeah, that’s what this was.”
She’s talking in circles, words and thoughts not making sense to me, but I don’t interrupt to ask questions, keeping my mouth shut and letting her speak.
“I’m glad you called your mom. What did she say?”
“She said what the internet said; that I can take a test in a few days so I’m sure I’m not pregnant anymore but not for a few days because my body is still full of hormones.”
That makes sense.
“What do you need from me, Tess? Do you need me to fly out there?”
“No. No, no, I’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.” She pauses, breathing in a long breath. “Can I be honest with you?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“I’m confused.”
“You are?”
“Yes. I know we weren’t ready, and we barely know each other—even though I’ve known you half my life, and now I’m just freaking out because I don’t want to lose you because I feel like I need you. That’s what went through my mind first, you know? Is that bad?”
I hear sniffling on the other end of the line.
She’s crying.
“No, it’s not bad.” I reassure her, softly. “You’re allowed to feel however you feel.”
“So are you. I wouldn’t blame you for being pissed.”
“Tess. Not to sound cheesy, but…everything happens for a reason. You got pregnant for a reason, and you got…unpregnant for a reason.” I have no idea how else to say it. “That’s how the world works, and not to bring God into it but he has a plan, you know?”
I will not cry. I will not cry.
I hope she doesn’t think I’m preaching, but I honestly believe that the things that happen to us, the people who come in and out of our lives, are all supposed to, regardless of the circumstances.
I feel fucking horrible, mostly for her.
I had it easy, if you consider being hounded by the media, getting my ass chewed out by your coaches, brothers, mother, and everyone else with anything to do with my football career—easy. There’s going to need to be damage control for this, too, but it’ll pass the way things always do. For me, but maybe not for her.
All I had to do sit and take it. Listen to my coaches and brothers insert themselves into my personal life.
All I had to do was suck it up and keep my thoughts and opinions to myself in the face of so many people bitching at me, lecturing me, telling me I may have ruined my career.
Tess? Had most of the emotional and all of the physical burden.
“You get that none of this is your fault, right?” I say, my words steady and sincere. “I don’t want you to carry any guilt or feel bad about what’s happened. Life is unpredictable, and what we’re going through isn’t something you should blame yourself for.”
Don’t I sound so altruistic?
Cause I am.
And none of this was her fault.
I don’t know jackshit about pregnant people, but I know that things can change in the blink of an eye, and they did.
“I appreciate you saying that. But it’s hard not to feel responsible, you know?”
“I know,” I reply gently. “You know I’m not mad, and I don’t want you to feel guilty. We’re in this together, and we’ll face whatever comes our way as a team.”