Page 227 of Where We Stay

Fuck.

“I’m sorry.” My voice barely works. “Come again?”

“You’re pregnant, Miss Morgan.”

I stare at him, waiting for the words to rearrange themselves into something that makes sense.

They don’t.

Pregnant.

Pregnant.

“How—how far?”

“We can’t determine that from this test alone,” he explains gently. “You’ll need to make an appointment with your doctor for follow-up blood work. An ultrasound will give you a clearer idea once you’re far enough along.”

My hand moves to my stomach before I even realize I’m doing it.

There’s a baby in there.

A fucking baby.

“Would you like me to ask your partner to come back in?” the doctor asks.

My eyes snap toward the closed door.

Dean.

“Not yet,” I whisper. “Can I just have a minute?”

“Of course. The nurse will be in shortly to discharge you.”

The doctor quietly leaves, and the room falls silent again. Only this time, I barely notice.

I’m pregnant.

Dean and I made a baby.

Holy fucking shit.

* * *

Dean’s been gone for ten minutes. He came back in after the doctor left, took one look at me and proceeded to hunt the poor man down so he could ask all the same questions himself.

Apparently, my word isn’t good enough when it comes to whether I’m medically okay.

Now, he’s disappeared again because hospital vending-machine food doesn’t count as dinner, and apparently I’m “not allowed to survive on crackers after nearly being murdered.”

His words.

Not mine.

Which leaves me alone with the bruises, the concussion and one very fucking new piece of information.

Pregnant.

I still can’t make the word feel real.