I buy the pregnancy test at a gas station forty-three miles from home.

Not the CVS where I filled prescriptions for two years. Not the Walgreens where Mrs. Henderson from church works the register. Not anywhere in the county where someone might recognize me, might see what I'm buying, might start counting backward from today to that night three weeks ago when everything went to hell.

Three weeks since I woke up in Cade Mercer's bed.

Three weeks since he called it a mistake.

Three weeks since I broke Evan's heart and his mother told me I was trash.

Three weeks of nausea and exhaustion and a period that should have come but didn't.

The fluorescent lights in the gas station bathroom flicker like they're having a seizure. There's graffiti on the stall door—Destiny loves Marcus 4ever—and I wonder if Destiny knows that forever is a fucking lie.

My hands shake as I unwrap the test.

I've Googled this. I know what to do. Pee on the stick, wait three minutes, watch your entire life implode.

Simple.

I sit on the toilet in this disgusting bathroom that smells like industrial cleaner and something darker, like desperation, and I try not to think about how I got here.

Except that's all I can think about.

Cade's hands on my skin. His mouth against my throat. The way he said my name like it was dragged out of him against his will.

The way he looked at me the next morning like I was his biggest regret.

I finish, cap the test, set it on the grimy sink.

Now I wait.

Three minutes.

One hundred eighty seconds.

I lean against the stall door and count my heartbeats instead. They're too fast, rabbiting against my ribs like they're trying to escape my chest.

I should have been more careful. We used a condom—I remember that much through the whiskey haze—but clearly something went wrong. Or maybe the universe just decided I hadn't suffered enough yet.

My phone buzzes. Another text from Evan.

I don't read it.

I haven't read any of them. Thirty-seven messages in three weeks, each one more desperate than the last. I love you. We can work through this. Just talk to me. Please.

I can't talk to him.

What would I even say?

Hey, remember that night I broke up with you for no reason? Funny story—I'd just fucked your brother. And now I might be pregnant with his baby. But other than that, how's your week going?

My laugh echoes off the tile, sharp and slightly unhinged.

The timer on my phone goes off.

Three minutes.

I stare at the test sitting on the sink like it's a live grenade.

Maybe if I don't look, it won't be real. Maybe I can just walk out of this bathroom, get in my car, drive home, and pretend this never happened. Add it to the list of things I'm pretending never happened.

That night with Cade.

The way my body still remembers his touch.

The fact that I haven't been able to eat breakfast in two weeks without wanting to vomit.

Fuck.

I pick up the test.

Two pink lines.

Clear as day. Undeniable.

Positive.

I'm pregnant.

I'm pregnant with Cade Mercer's baby.

The test slips from my fingers, clatters against the sink. I grip the porcelain edge hard enough that my knuckles go white, and I stare at my reflection in the spotted mirror.

Twenty-three years old. Copper-streaked hair falling out of its bun. Freckles standing out stark against skin that's gone pale. Green eyes too wide, too scared.

I look exactly like what I am.

Completely fucked.

"Okay," I whisper to my reflection. "Okay. Think."

But I can't think. My brain has short-circuited. All I can process is the reality of those two pink lines and what they mean.

I'm carrying Cade Mercer's child.

Cade, who left town the day after he fucked me.

Cade, who I have no way to contact.

Cade, who made it crystal clear that night was a mistake he wanted to forget.

Even if I could find him, what would I say? Hey, remember that night you regretted? Congratulations, you're going to be a father!

No.

God, no.

And Evan—

My stomach lurches. I barely make it to the toilet before I'm retching, bringing up nothing but bile and terror.

If I tell Evan, he'll know. He'll know I slept with his brother. He'll know I betrayed him in the worst possible way. And his family—Jesus Christ, his family. His mother already thinks I'm garbage. What will she think when she finds out I'm pregnant with her other son's baby?

They'll destroy me.

This town will destroy me.

I flush, rinse my mouth at the sink, avoid looking at the test still sitting there like an accusation.

I can't tell anyone.

Not Evan. Not the Mercers. Not my coworkers or my landlord or the few friends I've made in this town.

No one can know.

The realization settles over me like ice water.

I'm completely alone.

No family—haven't had that since my mother chose her latest boyfriend over me when I was seventeen. No real friends—I've kept everyone at arm's length since I moved here, too afraid of being hurt. No support system. No safety net.

Just me and two pink lines and a future that's suddenly, terrifyingly real.

I pick up the test with shaking hands, wrap it in toilet paper, shove it deep into the trash can. Like burying the evidence will change anything.

Then I walk out of that bathroom on legs that don't quite feel attached to my body.

The kid behind the counter doesn't even look up from his phone as I leave.

I sit in my car in the parking lot as the sun sets, painting the sky in shades of orange and red that look like fire. Like everything burning.

I have $8,247 in my savings account. I checked this morning, some instinct telling me I needed to know exactly what resources I had.

It's not much. But it's enough to disappear.

The thought crystallizes slowly, taking shape like ice forming on glass.

I could leave.

Just... go.

Pack up my apartment, quit my job, get in my car and drive until I'm somewhere no one knows me. Somewhere the Mercer name means nothing. Somewhere I can have this baby without everyone in town counting backward and doing the math and figuring out exactly what happened.

Somewhere I can start over.

Again.

My phone buzzes. Evan. Again.

I know something's wrong. Let me help. Please.

I turn the phone off.

He can't help. No one can help. This is my mess, my consequence, my choice.

And I'm choosing to protect this baby from the shitstorm that would rain down if anyone found out the truth.

I'm choosing to protect myself from the Mercers and their money and their influence and their ability to take everything from me.

I'm choosing to disappear.

The decision should feel harder. Should require more deliberation, more weighing of options, more something.

But it doesn't.

Because deep down, I already know there's no other choice.

I can't stay here. Can't face Evan's hurt and his mother's disgust and the whole town's judgment. Can't risk them finding out, can't risk them trying to take this baby from me, can't risk—

Can't risk Cade coming back someday and looking at me with those storm-gray eyes and seeing his child and knowing what I did.

No.

Better to vanish. Better to become someone else somewhere else. Better to raise this baby alone than to stay here and watch everything fall apart.

I start the car.

The drive back to town takes forty-three minutes. Forty-three minutes to plan. To think. To become someone who can do this.

I'll give my landlord notice tomorrow. Two weeks. I'll tell him I got a job offer in another state, something too good to pass up. He won't care—I've been a quiet, reliable tenant, always paid on time. He'll probably just shrug and cash my last check.

Work will be harder. I like my job at the veterinary clinic. Dr. Morrison has been good to me. But I'll tell her the same story. Job offer. New opportunity. She'll understand. She might even write me a reference.

I won't tell anyone where I'm going.

Not because I think they'll care enough to follow, but because I can't risk anyone finding me later. Can't risk the Mercers deciding they want to know about their grandchild. Can't risk Evan showing up and demanding answers I can never give.
But there's one call I make first.

Cade's number. Still in my phone from when Evan had given it to me two years ago in case I ever needed to reach him in an emergency.

I try three times. Straight to voicemail, each time. His voice, rough and unfamiliar, telling me to leave a message.

I don't leave a message. What would I say?

I drive to his apartment building next—the one Evan mentioned off-handedly, the one on the edge of town near the highway. The woman who answers the buzzer has a tired voice.

Cade Mercer? A pause. He left. Few days ago. Took everything. Alaska, I think someone said.

Alaska.

Of course.

He was already gone.

By the time I pull into my apartment complex, the plan has solidified into something concrete.

Two weeks to pack up my life.

Two weeks to erase every trace of Sloane Hartley from this town.

Two weeks to become someone new.

Someone who didn't make the worst mistake of her life three weeks ago.

Someone who can raise a baby alone and pretend that's what she always wanted.

Someone who doesn't wake up every morning thinking about Cade Mercer's hands and the way he said her name and the fact that she's carrying a piece of him inside her.

I climb the stairs to my second-floor apartment, unlock the door, step into the space I've called home for two years.

It's not much. Cheap furniture from Goodwill. Walls I never bothered to decorate because I learned a long time ago not to get too attached to places. A kitchen I barely use. A bedroom that still smells faintly like the lavender soap I buy in bulk because it's the one small luxury I allow myself.

In two weeks, someone else will live here.

And I'll be gone.

I walk to my bedroom, pull out the duffel bag I've kept packed in the back of my closet since I was seventeen. Old habit. Always ready to run.

Guess some things never change.

I set it on the bed and start adding things. Clothes. Toiletries. The few photographs I have of my mother from before everything went to shit. The journal I've kept since I was fourteen, filled with thoughts I'd die before letting anyone read.

My hands move on autopilot while my brain tries to process the reality of what I'm doing.

I'm running away.

Again.

Because that's what I do. That's what I've always done. When things get hard, when things get complicated, when things threaten to destroy me—I run.

And this time, I'm running from a man who doesn't even know I exist anymore.

Running from a baby I never planned for.

Running from a future that terrifies me more than anything ever has.

My phone, still off, sits on the nightstand like an accusation.

Thirty-seven unread messages from Evan.

Zero from Cade.

Because Cade is gone. Left town the day after he fucked me and hasn't looked back. For all I know, he's in another state, working another job, forgetting I exist.

He doesn't know about the baby.

He'll never know about the baby.

And that's how it has to be.

I press my hand against my still-flat stomach, feel nothing but the familiar plane of muscle and skin.

But something's there. Growing. Changing. Becoming.

Someone who's half me and half the man who called our night together a mistake.

"It's just us," I whisper to the empty room. "Just you and me. And we're going to be okay."

It sounds like a lie.

But I've gotten good at lying to myself.

I've gotten good at surviving.

And I'll survive this too.

I have to.

Because in approximately eight months, I'm going to be responsible for another human being. Someone who didn't ask to be born into this mess. Someone who deserves better than a mother who can't even keep her life together.

Someone who deserves better than me.

But I'm all they're going to get.

So I'll pack up my life, disappear into the night, and start over somewhere new.

I'll build a life for this baby that's safe and stable and nothing like the chaos I grew up in.

I'll be the mother I never had.

I'll be enough.

I have to be enough.

Because there's no one else.

Just me and two pink lines and a future I never saw coming.

I zip up the duffel bag and set it by the door.

Tomorrow, I'll start the process of vanishing.

Tonight, I'll lie in this bed one last time and try not to think about Cade Mercer and the way his body felt against mine and the fact that I'm carrying his child.

Try not to think about Evan and his unanswered messages and the life we could have had if I hadn't destroyed everything.

Try not to think about how completely, utterly alone I am.

I turn off the lights and climb into bed fully clothed.

Sleep doesn't come.

Instead, I lie in the dark and count the days until I can leave this town behind forever.

Fourteen days.

Three hundred thirty-six hours.

Twenty thousand, one hundred sixty minutes.

And then I'm gone.

Just like Cade.

Except he left because he wanted to.

I'm leaving because I have to.

Because staying would mean watching everything I've built crumble.

Because staying would mean facing the consequences of one night that changed everything.

Because staying would mean risking someone taking this baby from me.

And I won't let that happen.

This baby is mine.

Mine to protect. Mine to raise. Mine to love.

Even if I have to do it alone.

Even if it means running away from the only place I've tried to call home.

Even if it means never seeing Cade Mercer again.

My hand rests on my stomach, and I make a promise to the life growing inside me.

"I'll keep you safe," I whisper into the darkness. "No matter what. I'll keep you safe."

Outside, the wind picks up, rattling the windows.

Inside, I start counting down the hours until I can disappear.

Fourteen days.

Then Sloane Hartley will cease to exist.

And whoever I become next will be someone who never made the mistake of falling into bed with Cade Mercer.

Someone who never broke Evan's heart.

Someone who can raise a baby alone and pretend that was always the plan.

Someone strong enough to survive this.

I close my eyes and try to believe it.

Fourteen days.

Then I'm gone.