Chapter Thirteen
"What took you so long?" was the first thing Isabella heard when she opened the door. She knew to wipe the smile off of her face before she entered the house, sure David would read something into it, and he wouldn't even be too far from the truth this time. It was clear Austin still had a bigger hold on her than she cared to even admit to herself. She kept thinking about the what ifs, what if he hadn't gone cold overnight, what if she'd stayed in town and forced him to explain himself? Would she be with him still? Would they be happy together?
"I bought some groceries, and I couldn't exactly get those tests in the shop here in town," she told him, sounding more defiant than she really should. His eyes flared and she knew she hadn't heard the last of this. He clenched his jaws when Tatum appeared in the hallway with a thankful expression on her face. Isabella wordlessly handed the pregnancy tests over.
"Thanks Izzy," Tatum breathed, rushing to the bathroom, praying to the stars she wasn't pregnant.
The second she closed the door behind her, David grabbed his girlfriend by her arms. She dropped the bags on the ground, thankful they didn't contain anything breakable. "I don't care for that tone you're putting up," he told her in a low voice, his fingers digging in her arms as he pulled her closer to him.
Her heart raced as she tried to keep her expression as blank as possible, showing him fear only made him angrier, and crying was even worse. "I just meant that—"
"Why are you arguing with me?" he asked, shaking her a little when he really wanted to throw her against the wall.
"I'm not tryin'—"
"Stop arguing," he said to clenched teeth. "You know I don't like hurting you, but you always need to have something to say," he sighed, looking like it pained him more than it hurt her when he bruised her arms.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, taking shallow breaths and feeling her eyes sting. "Please let go," she begged when his nails dug into her skin.
He squeezed her a little tighter before he pushed her away. "Go clean this shit up," he said, waving at the bags on the floor. "And change your clothes," he added as he looked at her arms before he stormed into the living room.
Isabella looked at her sweater and noticed some small red stains where David's nails had dug into her, apparently hard enough to break her skin. She rushed to the kitchen where she dumped the bags on the counter before she headed into her bedroom to put on a different sweater. It wasn't until she looked at her reflection in the mirror that she let the tears go, for a few seconds. She looked pathetic, her arms had almost been back to their normal colour, but now they had scratches on them. Blood trickled down her arm, and she quickly wiped it away before she changed into darker clothes. She knew the bruises would start to show in the next hour or so, but if she pretended like she was fine, no one would know.
Tatum paced the small bathroom, trying not to look at the pregnancy test where it lay on the side. She couldn't believe she now had to wait two minutes to find out. Two minutes. It didn't sound long. You could do a lot of things in two minutes. But waiting for an answer from one of those little sticks... it felt like an eternity. She had no idea how to feel. She still felt nauseous, which really did not help matters. She'd never considered as such whether she wanted to have kids or when, assuming it would happen when it felt natural in her life. When she was with someone she wanted to start a family with. Not when she'd just broken up with a douche bag and was trying to figure out the ropes at her new business with her half-sister. But did that mean she didn't want it if she was pregnant? Would she want to keep it? Or if not, would she be able to go through the whole pregnancy and give it up for adoption? Or worse, have an abortion and terminate the pregnancy before anyone found out?
At this thought Tatum stopped pacing, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to try and calm down. She was getting ahead of herself. The test could come back negative, in which case she probably was just suffering from a stomach bug. She opened her eyes and looked at her phone to see how much longer she had to wait. Thirty seconds left and it had already felt like forever since she'd peed on that stupid stick. She resumed her pacing, praying this wouldn't make her dizzy and throw up again.
The buzzing and ringing of her phone's alarm made her jump. And having gone from being too impatient to wait for the result, she now wasn't sure she wanted to know. The redhead took another deep breath and edged closer to the test, inch by inch. The line was faint but getting stronger and, as she picked the test up, saw a second line appear. Wait. A second line. Did that mean it was positive? She couldn't remember what the instructions had said. Trying not to drop the test or hold it at the wrong end, she scrambled to find the box with the instructions in them. She shook the box to get the leaflet to flutter out and grabbed it, her eyes frantically scanning the words until she found what she was after. Her breath whooshed out as if she'd been slammed into the wall; two lines meant she was pregnant. Oh god... "I'm pregnant," she whispered to herself, still not sure how to feel or what that actually meant. Tatum sank down onto the closed toilet lid, taking another look at the test in her hand. There were definitely two lines now, both thick and convincing. There was no doubt in those lines.
The only doubt there was, was in her head.