Chapter 2

I lay awake for a long time.

The dull ache in my abdomen didn't let up.

I fished the box of progesterone out of my suitcase and read the instructions by the light of my phone.

Two tablets per dose. Swallow with warm water.

But there was no warm water.

I took a mouthful of bottled water and forced the pills down, biting back a cough.

Through the wall, laughter drifted from the main room.

I could make out Chloe's bright voice.

Lucas's low murmur in reply.

And the clink of glasses.

I put the remaining four pills away and tucked them back into the inner zip pocket.

I laid my palm against my belly.

I couldn't feel anything.

But it was there. It really was.

...

In the early hours of the morning, another knock came.

Weakly, I got up and opened the door.

Lucas stood in the hallway light, a thick ceramic mug in his hand, steam curling from it.

I glanced at him, said nothing, turned and went back to bed, propping myself against the headboard.

He came in and stood at the side of the bed.

"Still angry?"

I didn't answer.

He sighed, set the mug on the table, and sat down on the edge of the bed. He reached out and touched my forehead.

"You're freezing."

"You have to say something when you don't feel well, honestly."

His palm was warm.

His fingertips brushed the loose hair at my temple.

My eyes stung.

I had said something.

He just never remembered.

I slid my hand into my pocket and clenched the lab report, its edges gone soft with wear.

He propped me up and brought the mug to my lips.

The sweet-hot smell of honey ginger tea filled my nose.

"Drink. I borrowed a pot from the lodge owner—took forever to brew."

I was just about to open my mouth—

His phone buzzed.

The ringtone was jarring in the quiet room.

It was the specific ringtone I had heard countless times in our life together. The one that belonged exclusively to Chloe.

He glanced at the screen.

Set the mug down immediately.

Without a moment's hesitation.

"You drink it yourself. Chloe's window is broken—I'll go check on it."

He stood, not even bothering to grab his coat.

I reached out, trying to catch the last thread of hope.

"Lucas, can you stay?"

He was already at the door. He only paused long enough to say, over his shoulder,

"Don't wait up. Get some sleep."

The door opened.

The door closed.

Cold air rushed in through the crack.

The steam rising from the mug dissolved before my eyes.

That cup of ginger tea. I never took a sip.

Not until it had gone completely cold.

...

Later that night, the dull ache turned into a wringing, downward pull.

I curled up, cold sweat running down my spine.

Something warm gushed out of me.

Damp and sticky against my skin.

Dark red again.

I called Lucas.

Fifteen rings.

No answer.

I called again.

Still nothing.

The fifth time, it connected.

The person who answered wasn't him.

"Ava."

Chloe's voice, lazy and languid.

In the background, the steady breathing of a sleeping man.

"Lucas is exhausted. He's already asleep."

She paused, her voice lower, laced with a small laugh.

"Don't worry, nothing happened. He passed out on the couch—I didn't have the heart to wake him."

"Whatever it is, can it wait till morning?"

I opened my mouth.

No sound came out.

She hung up with a soft chuckle.

I clutched the phone.

I didn't call a sixth time.

...

Bracing myself against the wall, I made it to the sink.

The water was ice cold.

I soaked a towel, wrung it out, folded it into place.

Lay back on the cot with my palm on my belly.

The pain dulled into numbness.

At daybreak, I washed my face and changed into clean pants.

I pushed open the door.

Everyone was in the dining room having breakfast.

Maggie was the first to spot me.

"Ava, you don't look so good today."

I gave a small smile.

"I want to head back early. You all keep having fun."

The whole table froze.

Lucas looked up from the sofa.

He was still holding his thermos.

"What are you throwing a fit about now?"