Chapter 25

It's beentwo weeks since I've set eyes on Roman. After the hours-long police interview at the station, Lucas brought me back to campus and found me emergency placement in the William West Residence Hall—a building funded by Lucas and Christian's grandfather.

I just needed space, some room to breathe.

So tell me why after getting that space, it feels like I'm dying inside. The last two weeks have been absolute hell. My every thought comes back around to Roman, always. I'm desperate to know how he's doing. How he's coping.

I remember how I felt right after Bree was killed. Grief like that consumes and suffocates. But I had Roman. He was there, taking care of me when my entire world looked like an apocalyptic hellscape. Who does he have? His guys, I guess.

With a sigh, I unlock my phone and re-read my last text to Roman. It was the morning after James was killed, and I asked him how he was doing. He never responded. He never even read my text. And that silence is so damn loud, it's deafening.

And if I'm being honest, there's a part of me that wonders if Roman blames me for what happened. If James and I had never met, then none of this would have happened, and his brother would still be alive.

Bree would still be here, too.

The worst part of this whole thing, though, is the relief I feel knowing James is gone. Just thinking that feels so selfish, especially knowing the pain Roman must be grappling with. But it's true. For the first time in a long time, I feel safe. I feel free.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. It's morning, but I'm skipping class because I have really bad cramps. Like, I can hardly walk kind of cramps. They're brutal.

And, honestly, I'm really missing my old roommate, Emily, right now. When he parents dropped her off at college, her mom left her with a little plastic tote filled with cold medication, bandaids, antihistamines, and all sorts of things. I know she'd have ibuprofen.

Rolling over onto my side, I shoot a text to Wyn.

Hey, do you have any ibuprofen, by chance?

I could text Roman. It'd be a good excuse to see him. And I know for a fact that if I were to text him a request like this, he'd answer. No question. He can't resist being the hero. But, I don't know, that feels a bit manipulative, and I just can't bring myself to do that to him.

Wyn texts me back about thirty minutes later.

Sure, I'll bring some by on my way to class. You in your new dorm room?

I type out my response.

Yup. TY.

Clutching my phone against my chest, I curl into a ball. For some reason, the deep, pervasive throb lessens just slightly when I'm in this position. It feels like period cramps, but a million times worse, the bone-deep ache radiating to my lower back.

I did a quick internet search earlier, and according to the articles and forums, cramps can be completely normal in pregnancy as the uterus grows to accommodate the baby.

But this isn't a slight cramp. This feels like I'm being ripped apart from the inside.

I must drift off to sleep at some point because I'm awoken by a knock on my door.

"Come in," I call out from my bed. "It's unlocked."

The door inches open, and Wyn walks in. Thank God. I'm desperate for pain relief. She shuts the door and turns to me with a smile on her face, her wavy blond hair a wild mess around her shoulders.

"Hey, girl." She shakes the ibuprofen bottle she brought. "I come bearing drugs. Sorry, I took so long. All my stuff is in boxes, and it took me a minute to find it."

Ah, right. Wyn recently moved out of the sorority house, and into a little studio apartment. Living with fifteen other girls was getting too chaotic, I guess. Plus, she's going through something with Gabriel right now, and I get the feeling she just really needs space to think. I'm not exactly sure what's happening with Gabriel—she doesn't ever want to talk about it—but I hardly ever see them together anymore.

I straighten, and sit up a little, wincing at the pain. "Thank you," I whimper. "You're a lifesaver."

Her smile melts. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

Smoothing my comforter over my stomach, I make a face. "I've been having some pretty wicked cramping, and it just seems to be getting worse."

I realize now, I should have also asked her if she had a heating pad. Maybe I can get one online and have it delivered? I make a mental note to order it after she leaves.

Wyn's brows pinch together, and she sits down on the end of my bed, handing me the bottle of ibuprofen. "Have you called the doctor?"

Opening the bottle, I pour two pills into my palm. I doubt two pills are going to cut it, but I don't want to take too much, and risk hurting the baby. "The internet says it's normal."

She lifts a brow. "The internet, really? That's the medical advice we're going with?"

I shrug. "The people on those forums seem pretty knowledgeable. One lady said she's had five kids and had cramps with all of them. So that's reassuring."

Wyn's eyes flick briefly to my stomach. "So I'm guessing you've decided to keep it, then?"

I avoid her gaze. The truth is, I haven't really made a conscious decision about it, but the more I think about not having the baby, the more my chest aches. And even now, the threat of something possibly being wrong has me completely freaked out.

"I haven't officially made a decision yet," I answer, staring down at my hands.

"You're what, seven or eight weeks along?"

"Something like that."

"Well—" She tilts her head to the side. "—you know that no decision is still a decision, right? And it's okay if you want to keep it. There's nothing wrong with that."

I nod, swallowing hard. She's right. It's terrifying to think I could be a mother because God knows my own mother didn't give me a great example of what parenting looks like. But I could do it. Plenty of people do school and kids, right?

"Yeah, you're right. Thank you for that."

She flashes me a smile. "Speaking of babies...have you heard anything from your baby daddy?"

I make a face at the term baby daddy, then shake my head."He still hasn't texted me back," I say with a sigh.

Wyn is looking down, playing with a thread on my comforter. "Oh, I was just wondering if he'd mentioned moving or anything."

I pause at that, taken aback. "Moving? Why would he mention that?"

She looks up at me and shrugs one shoulder. "Someone said they saw boxes stacked up in his room like he was moving out."

I sink back against my pillows, wincing again at the pain. Roman moving? No. His family has walked this campus for generations. Even his house is here, for God's sake. Where would he go?

She takes in my expression, and clarifies, "Or, I don't know, maybe he's just remodeling or something? Could be anything. Forget I mentioned it."

I swallow past the emotion rising in my throat. Roman basically ghosts me for two weeks, and now he's moving away? I try to wrap my head around the idea that I may never see him again, and a deep, dark hole opens up inside me.

Tears sting the backs of my eyes, but I clear my throat and blink rapidly to keep them at bay. This is so stupid. Roman and I were never meant to be together. Things were so unbelievably complicated between us, and our toxicity was next level. So tell me why I'm suddenly emotional about the thought of him moving away.

I swallow. "Well, if you hear anything…"

"Yeah," Wyn says quickly, placing a hand on my leg. "You want me to grab you some water for the ibuprofen?"

Oh, right. I fling my covers off and move to get up. "I think I have a bottle of water in my backpack."

Wyn leans back with a gasp. "Oh, my God. Lux."

My feet haven't even touched the white linoleum floor. I look at Wyn, really confused. "What? What's wrong?"

Her green eyes are wide in alarm and focused on my mattress. I follow her gaze and blink. There's something red spilled all over my sheets. What is that?

"Is that blood?" Wyn gasps.

Oh, shit.The second she says blood, it clicks. The cramping. This is blood. I'm bleeding. Panic grips me, and I stand up despite the pain. I feel a slight gush and warm liquid trickles down my legs.

"Oh, my God," I choke out.

Wyn gets to her feet. "I'm calling 911."

I open my mouth to tell her not to call the ambulance, but a sudden wave of dizziness washes over me, and I have to sit back down on the bed.

There's some delusional part of me that's hoping this is normal. And if I just stay calm, then everything will be okay. But, even as I comfort myself with that possibility, I know in my gut this isn't supposed to be happening. Something is very, very wrong.