[Holly's POV]
The yellow line on the pregnancy test stares back at me like a tiny miracle.
My fingers tremble as I set it down next to the other three, all lined up on the edge of my dorm room sink like little soldiers bearing the same message. Four tests. Four positives. Four confirmations of what I already know deep in my bones.
I'm pregnant with Danny's baby.
A laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep in my chest, giddy and wild. My bruises have finally faded, the purple and yellow that decorated my face for weeks now nothing but a bad memory. The taped glasses got replaced last week. On the surface, I look normal again. Healed.
But everything's different now.
I press my hand against my still-flat stomach, feeling nothing but the same soft flesh that's always been there. But underneath, invisible and impossibly real, cells are dividing. Growing. Creating a person who's half me and half him.
"This has to be fate," I whisper to my reflection, watching my lips form the words. My blue eyes, stare back at me with an intensity that makes me look almost manic. "It has to be."
Even if Dan thinks I raped him. Even if he married my mother and disappeared to some tropical paradise while I was getting my face beaten in by whoever Mom hired. Even if he never wants to see me again.
This baby is his.
This baby is ours.
My hand spreads wider across my abdomen, possessive and protective all at once. The scholarship covers my tuition, but I'll need to figure out how to afford everything else. Prenatal vitamins. Doctor's appointments. Baby supplies.
Mom is going to lose her fucking mind.
The thought makes me smile despite myself. Emily Sampson, the ice queen escort who kicked her own daughter to the curb, is going to become a grandmother. Whether she likes it or not.
I grab my new prepaid phone from the counter, my fingers hovering over Mom's contact. Should I tell her now? Let her know that her precious Danny left something behind?
No. Not yet. I need to savor this for a little while longer. This secret is mine, this proof that Daniel, can't just erase me from his life like I never existed.
I created a life with him. Inside me. Growing.
The knock on my door shatters the moment.
I glare at the door, irritation flashing hot through me. Who the fuck would interrupt me right now? I'm having a moment here. A life-changing, reality-shifting moment, and someone's pounding on my door like the building's on fire.
Three more sharp raps echo through my tiny dorm room.
I storm across the space, yanking the door open with enough force that it bounces against the wall. "What, Stacy? What the fuck do you want? I'm busy."
Stacy frowns, her eyebrows drawing together in genuine confusion. "Didn't you tell me you wanted me to try train club with you?"
The words hit me like a bucket of cold water. Train club. Shit. I completely forgot about that.
"Oh fuck," I say, pressing my palm against my forehead. "It completely slipped my mind."
Stacy's frown deepens, disappointment flickering across her features. She shifts her weight from foot to foot, her backpack sliding down one shoulder.
"I'll be right back," I say quickly, already turning back into my room. "Don't go without me."
Her face lights up immediately, that sunny disposition breaking through like she wasn't just frowning at me two seconds ago. "Choo choo!" she says, making little train motions with her arms.
I can't help but crack a small smile despite myself as I grab a sweatshirt from the pile on my desk chair. The fabric smells faintly of laundry detergent, clean and normal. I pull it over my head, my hand instinctively going to my stomach again as the material settles over my torso.
Still flat. Still secret.
When I emerge from my room, Stacy's waiting in the hallway, bouncing slightly on her toes with that infectious energy she always carries. I lock the door behind me, double-checking it out of habit even though there's nothing valuable in there except four pregnancy tests I should probably throw away.
"Ready?" Stacy asks, already starting down the hallway.
"Yeah," I say, falling into step beside her.
We walk in silence for a few minutes, the sound of our footsteps echoing off the linoleum floors. The hallway smells like stale pizza and whatever industrial cleaner they use to mop these floors.
"So what do you actually do in train club?" Stacy asks, glancing at me with genuine curiosity.
I shrug, shoving my hands into the pockets of my sweatshirt. "Mostly we talk about rolling stock specifications. Like, the technical differences between EMD SD40-2s and GE Dash 9s. Horsepower ratings, traction motor configurations, that kind of thing." The words come easily, flowing out without thought. "Sometimes we discuss railway signaling systems. The differences between absolute permissive block and centralized traffic control."
Stacy blinks at me, her expression blank.
"We also catalog different locomotive paint schemes," I continue, warming to the topic despite myself. "Track which railroads use which liveries, when they changed their branding. Union Pacific's Armor Yellow versus BNSF's Heritage schemes." I pause, realizing I'm probably losing her. "And sometimes we just watch videos of trains going through mountain passes. There's this one channel that does cab rides through the Rockies that's really soothing."
"Oh," Stacy says, and I can hear her trying to inject enthusiasm into her voice. "That sounds... detailed."
"Yeah its fucking sick."