Page 130 of Old Habits

I look down at my shoes as panic seizes me. “Okay.”

“I need to know what he meant by that.”

“Not here,” I mutter.

“What?”

I take a wide step around him. “We shouldn’t talk about this here.”

He reaches out to grip my arm. “Just say it, Jove.”

“Will, please.”

“What did he mean?”

I pull my hand free and shove open the hallway doors, startling a few people lingering by the bathrooms across the hall. I spin in the opposite direction toward the gym, feeling Will’s presence over me with every bounding step.

He latches onto my arm again. “Jovie—”

“Don’t do this here,” I beg.

“Is it true? Were you preg—”

“Not here.”

“I have a right to know,” he argues.

“Do you have to know right now?”

He bolts out in front of me, stalling me in my tracks. His eyes pierce into me with accusation and distrust. He squints, obscuring the whites of his eyes even more until only a black pupil peeks out.

“What did you do?” he asks.

My throat burns. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Jovie, what did you do?”

No, not like this. Not here in a place like this. Not with this much anger in his face. Not with people glancing over at us—

“Don’t look at them,” he says. “Look at me.”

Tears fill my eyes. “Will, stop it.”

“Jovie—”

“I miscarried.”

It comes out so quietly I’m not even sure he hears it but as his grip loosens and his stiff face falls, I know he did.

I take a step backward and he just stands there, staring right through me as if I were made of glass. For a second, I think he might cry but he forces the pain from his eyes and turns away from me.

I look over my shoulder, seeing the inquisitive faces of those lingering nearby. I ignore them and walk as fast as I can toward the exit. The more steps I take, the farther away the door feels. My ankles ache and my vision blurs. I just want to get out of here, as far from the pounding music and stabbing guilt as I can.

I make it to the parking lot before I start sobbing.