I look down at myself, puzzled. I’m not dressed weird.
Although I am wearing Noah’s muddy old riding boots, and my jeans are a little dirty from chores this morning.
After Jake cleared the roads, we decided to get dressed, get our individual jobs done, and get to town. Best to rip off the Band-Aid quickly and get used to being in the world again. We met up with Noah for cheeseburgers, stocked up on gas in case another storm comes in, and hit the grocery store, loading up on all the fresh produce.
Kaleb went to the hardware store, and I detoured for candy.
I stare at my clothes. I’m not so out of place. Maybe less manicured than I was in September, but…
I look down at my nails, seeing the dirt underneath, and the little cuts on my hands from all the labor I’ve been up to over the winter.
Okay, I’m not manicured at all anymore. I catch myself in the mirror on the back of a shelf, seeing the loose threads in my dark blue cable knit sweater that also has a black stain from lying too close to a fire. My hair desperately needs a trim, and I’m tan from being outside, my freckles popping like never before.
I haven’t worn make-up or straightened my hair in months. Mirai won’t recognize me.
I laugh and head to the register.
“My mom told me to bring home a girl like you someday,” someone says.
I look over, setting my bag on the counter as a young guy approaches me. Spencer weighs my bag, and I study the stranger. He looks vaguely familiar. One of Noah’s friends?
“You’re their cousin, right,” he asks, leaning on the glass candy case. “Noah and Kaleb Van der Berg’s?”
I nod, seeing Spencer hand me the candy again. “I’ll put it on your tab,” he says.
I smile. My tab. Cool.
Turning my attention back to the guy, I hold out my hand. “Tiernan, hey.”
He shakes it. “Kenneth.” He stares at my face. “Would you like to get some pizza?”
Oh. Uh… I open my mouth to refuse, but then someone is there, pulling my hand away out of Kenneth’s. I look up to see Kaleb glaring down at the him, the blond guy standing up straight and drawing in a breath like he knows to back off.
Kaleb threads his fingers through mine and leads me away from the handsome young man, out the door, and across the street.
“He’s just flirting,” I tease.
Kaleb’s eyebrow cocks, and his lips twist to the side.
“I know, right?” I joke. “It’s hard work, guarding a beauty like me.”
He snorts, and I smile as we stop at the truck.
“I gotcha some candy worms.” I dangle the bag in front of him, but he’s not the least bit interested. Taking my face in his hands, he steals a kiss instead, and I revel in his smooth chin, jaw, and cheek. I love to kiss him. Especially when he’s clean-shaven.
“Come on. We’re going to be late,” I tell him, reaching for the door handle.
He moves to open the door for me but stops, his eyes rising and looking over my shoulder, the color draining from his face.
I follow his gaze.
Cici Diggins strolls past us, her steps slowing and her eyes locked on Kaleb.
But my stare falls to her stomach. Her pregnant stomach.
My lungs empty. No.
I jerk my eyes to Kaleb, seeing his jaw flex and his chest rise and fall in shallow breaths. How far along is she? We’ve been away from town for six months.
Unless she’s carrying twins, she’s farther along than that, which would mean…
Is it Kaleb’s?
I can’t swallow. I can’t breathe.
I look over my shoulder again to see her saunter up to us. “Let me guess,” she says. “You’re going through the math in your head right now?”
She smirks, looking between us. “We’ll be in touch,” she whispers to Kaleb.
She walks away, and I blink, trying to keep the tears away. Please. I hold my stomach because it hurts. Not this.
“Kaleb?” I murmur.
She was pregnant before the snow. She was pregnant well before the snow.
But he says nothing, simply opening the truck door and ushering me inside quickly.
He slams the door, rounds the front of the vehicle, and climbs into the driver’s side, speeding off toward home. The lumber in the bed bangs against the tailgate, and the groceries spill in the backseat.
I hold the handlebar above the door, staring over at him. “Did you know she was pregnant?” I asked.
His knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel, and he won’t look at me.
“She’s been pregnant a while. Is it yours?”