Page 3 of Always My Comfort

I had plans for when I was twenty-six. I wanted to be married with two kids and a dog. At least, that was my ten-year goal from when I was sixteen. The same goal I had told my best friend, Scarlet, who had laughed at me and swore she would never marry before thirty.

Ironic since she tied the knot last summer, and I had stood at her side as her maid of honor, silently questioning how our lives had been reversed.

There was a soft knock on the door, and then my doctor finally walked in. Doctor Williams smiled at me, her hair pulled back into a ponytail that swished with each calculated step she took into the small room.

“How are you, Logan?” She was only a few years older than me, but her voice was hoarse from years of smoking. The stale scent of nicotine filled the space, and I fought the cough building in my chest.

Clearing my throat, I licked my dry lips and smiled at her. “Never been better.” The same lie I repeated every year slipped easily from my lips. There was no point in telling this woman, who I only saw once a year, that I was downright miserable.

“So, you’re here for your annual exam and prescription renewal?” She wasn’t looking at me but instead at the clipboard of my charts, I presumed.

“Yes, although, I don’t see a point of the birth control now.” I sighed, and she looked up, brows drawing.

“Are you planning on trying with, uh, what’s his name again?” She tried to recall my ex’s name, and I cringed. We’d spoken extensively about him last time I was here. I had told everyone and anyone who was willing to listen about my Major League Baseball-playing boyfriend. I had told Dr. Williams how I knew he was going to propose soon and how we were going to make the prettiest babies.

Look where that got me.

“We broke up a few months ago actually, and I don’t see any men in my future.” I tried to laugh it off, but my voice was strained. I crossed my arms over my chest. She nodded and looked back at her chart and then at me, not voicing the question in her hollow eyes.

“Ms. Shaw, you were right about the birth control. I can’t renew the prescription.” She wrote something down and then put the clipboard down and focused on me.

“And why not? I was only joking.” She plastered on a smile that I didn’t like. One that I knew was going to bring bad news.

“Because you’re three months pregnant.”

“No, no, no.” I shook my head so hard, my head hurt. “You must have my results mixed up with someone else’s.” I stood and paced the room. My heart was beating loudly in my ears, making it hard to listen to Dr. Williams as she told me all about the wonderful news. I reached for the hand tightening around my throat and came up empty.

I had been fighting anxiety attacks for a few weeks now and knew the signs.

This is not happening.

It isn’t possible.

“You haven’t had any symptoms?” she questioned, remaining calm, while my mind was running haywire.

I pulled at the chain around my neck, at the silver cross my mom had given me for my eighteenth birthday. The one that usually kept me calm.The only piece I had left of her.

It didn’t ease my nerves, but fidgeting with a piece of her eased my racing heart just a little, just enough that I could think clearly without the darkness clouding my judgment.

“No, I haven’t even had sex in months! I mean, shit, I haven’t even missed a pill.” I started recounting the last couple of months.

Richard and I broke up four months ago. We hadn’t been intimate in months. The relationship had been fizzling out for longer than I cared to admit, but he was always away from home. Playing away games in other states, late-night practices, and extra time at the gym.

There wasn’t any time for us.

He didn’t make time for me. Baseball was more important. It was his life. Hence our breakup.

“When was the last time you were intimate with your ex?”

“Nine months ago on New Year’s Eve.” It had been the worst sex of my life. He was drunk, and I wished I was, too. More than that I wished I had been strong enough to say no because, as usual, he got what he wanted and fell asleep while I was left there staring at the ceiling, wondering if this was what the rest of my life would be like.

“Anyone else? It’s not his baby, Logan,” she gently reminded me, and I wracked my brain, trying to remember someone else.

Shit.

“It’s Jaxon Dexter’s,” I whispered. He’d been in the bar that night.

The night I came home to another girl in Richard’s bed and fled to the local bar, where Jaxon and his team were celebrating their win against Richard’s team. My perfect boyfriend had been just like all the other players. A no-good, piece of shit.