45. Brielle

Irush out the door, leaving whispers in my wake. My feet pound the pavement. The weight of the sexy society's secrets constrict me like a too-tight necklace. I run faster. They're professors, my dad's friends—God, what have I done?

Callie's house looms ahead. Sanctuary. I don't knock—I never do.

I burst into Callie's living room, my breath ragged. She jumps up from the couch, eyes wide.

"Whoa, Brie, you okay?" Callie steadies me with a hand on my arm.

I nod, trying to find my voice. "Yeah. Just—need to talk."

"Let's sit." She guides me to the couch, her thumb rubbing circles on my back.

We sink into the cushions, the fabric cool against my overheated skin. I take a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of vanilla from her candles. It does little to calm the storm inside me.

"Spill," she says gently, her brown eyes locked on mine.

My heart races, a drumbeat loud in my chest. "I'm dating them, Cal. All three."

"Wait—what?" Her eyebrows shoot up, shock etched on her face for a split second before it shifts into something else. "The professors? That's…wow."

"Wow good or wow bad?" The words tumble out, laced with anxiety.

"Definitely wow good." A grin spreads across her face, mischief sparking in her gaze. "Sexy even. Tell me everything."

I let out a shaky laugh, relief mingling with fear. "It's crazy, right?"

"Definitely crazy." Callie leans forward, elbows on her knees. "But hot."

My fingers tremble as I pull out the letter, unfolding its creases with hands that don't want to cooperate. The paper crackles under my touch, a sharp sound in Callie's silent living room.

"Look at this." My voice is barely a whisper as I hand it over.

Callie's eyes scan the words quickly, and her playful spark vanishes like smoke. "Brie, this is serious."

I nod, swallowing hard. "I know."

"Who could have put this in your bag?" Her voice is steady, but her knuckles whiten where they grip the letter.

"I have no idea. It could be anyone." A shiver runs down my spine as I glance around the room, half expecting the walls themselves to hold answers.

"Okay, think. What are you going to do?" She leans back, the letter now lying forgotten on the coffee table.

I wrap my arms around myself, hugging tight. "I don't know. I really don't know, Cal."

She chews on her lip, thinking. "Maybe…maybe you should tell your dad."

My heart skips a beat. "Tell him? How can I?"

"It might not be as bad as you think. He cares about you." She reaches out, taking my hand.

"Or he'll disown me," I say, the words tasting like ash.

"Your dad loves you, Brie. He wants what's best for you." She squeezes my hand, offering strength I'm not sure I possess.

"Callie, he's friends with them. With all of them." I stare at the floor, the carpet blurring through unshed tears. "This could ruin everything."

"Then we need to figure out who sent this." Her voice is firm now, decisive. "Before it goes any further."

"Right." I let out a shaky breath. "We will. We have to."

A swirling pit forms in my stomach, a churning mess of fear and dread. My palms are slick against the fabric of my jeans, and I can't get enough air into my lungs.

"Callie, I—I can't breathe," I gasp, my voice thin and reedy.

"Hey, hey, Brie, look at me." Callie's face is a blur as she guides my gaze to hers. "You need to slow down your breathing."

But it's like trying to hold back the tide with my bare hands. The room spins, and I'm on my feet before I even realize I've moved. I stagger, almost tripping over the edge of the rug as I beeline for the bathroom. The door slams behind me with a thud that echoes in the small space.

I barely make it to the toilet before it happens. My body convulses, and I'm heaving, the bitter taste of bile stinging my throat. The harsh sound fills the room, over and over, until there's nothing left but the hollow ache in my gut and the tremble in my limbs.

I collapse onto the cold tiles, the chill seeping through my clothes, grounding me, if only just a little. The nausea lingers, a constant reminder of the chaos unraveling inside me.

Sitting on the tiles, I draw in shaky breath after shaky breath. The coolness against my skin is a stark contrast to the heat flaming my cheeks. Callie's hand rests lightly on my back, her touch steady and calming.

"Are you okay?" Her voice cuts through the fog of my panic.

I nod, not trusting my voice yet. My heart is still racing, thumping hard against my rib cage, as if trying to escape the confines of my body and the reality that waits outside this small room.

"Talk to me, Brie." Callie's eyes search mine, brimming with worry.

The words spill out of me in a whisper, my confession hanging heavy in the air between us. "I'm scared, Callie. If my dad finds out about…about them, he'll never forgive me."

"Them" hangs like a code word for the impossible situation I've tangled myself in—Conrad, Levi, Grayson. My secret shared with three of my father's closest friends.

"Your dad loves you," she says softly, but her reassurance feels like a Band-aid over a bullet hole.

"Love has limits," I reply, the tremor in my voice betraying the fear that love might not be enough to bridge the gap this truth could create. "And I might have just crossed his."

Callie's eyes narrow, probing, as she watches me huddle against the cold porcelain of the sink. She leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and brow furrowed with concern.

"Could you be…pregnant?" she asks, her voice a soft intrusion into my spiraling thoughts.

"No." The word is out before I even process it—a knee-jerk denial. "I can't be."

"Are you sure? Because if you are…" Her sentence trails off, but the implication hangs in the air, thick and suffocating.

"Conrad, Levi, Grayson—they're careful. We're careful," I insist, but my voice cracks, betraying the doubt that festers within me. My pulse quickens, each throb echoing the growing dread.

"Symptoms can slip by unnoticed," Callie says, her practical tone slicing through my cloud of denial. "Nausea doesn't always come from stress."

My breath hitches. "It's just stress. It has to be."

"Let's just check, okay?" She moves toward the cabinet beneath the sink, her movements deliberate.

"Callie—" My protest is weak, feeble.

"Better to know," she insists, pulling open the door with a creak. The contents clatter slightly, bottles and boxes shifting as she rummages. She retrieves a small box—a pregnancy test—and holds it out like an olive branch or a verdict waiting to be read.

"Take it. For peace of mind," she urges, her gaze locking onto mine.

My hand trembles as I reach out, the box feeling heavier than it should. The plastic wrapper crinkles under my fingers, the sound unnaturally loud in the stillness of the bathroom.

"Okay," I whisper, the word barely audible over the roaring in my ears. "Okay, I'll do it."

Gripping the test like it's a lifeline, I rush through the instructions. My hands shake, but I manage to unwrap it. The clinical white stick feels foreign, a harbinger of a future I'm not ready to face.

"Here goes nothing," I mutter under my breath, and Callie gives me a small nod, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and encouragement.

I do what needs to be done, my heart pounding so loud I barely hear the sound of running water. Placing the test on the bathroom counter, I feel like I'm laying down a part of me, vulnerable and exposed. I grab my phone, fingers slipping on the screen twice before I successfully set a two-minute timer.

"Okay," I say, more to myself than to Callie. "Now we wait."

The silence is stifling as the seconds tick by, each one stretching longer than the last. Callie leans against the sink, arms folded, watching me with eyes that try to offer comfort.

"Whatever happens, you're not alone," she says softly.

I nod, trying to believe it. I know Callie means well, but the thought of facing Conrad, Levi, Grayson—it twists my stomach into knots. "It's just stress. It has to be."

"Stress can do crazy things to your body," Callie agrees, inching closer. "But this will clear up any doubts."

"Right," I breathe out, forcing a smile that doesn't reach my eyes.

My gaze flicks to the test then away, the digital clock on my phone blurring as I blink rapidly, willing the tears not to fall.

"Hey," Callie whispers, gently touching my arm. "It'll be okay."

"Will it?" The question escapes before I can catch it. A surge of fear that tastes like bile rises in my throat. I swallow it back down.

"Of course," she insists, though there's a tremor in her voice that tells me she's scared too. "You're strong, Brielle. Stronger than you think."

Her words are meant to bolster me, but they're like bandages on a wound too deep. I force a breath in and out, trying to ground myself.

"Maybe," I finally whisper, uncertainty lacing the edges of my resolve. The timer continues its relentless countdown, and I can't help but wonder if every second ticking away brings me closer to a reality I'm not prepared for.

The shrill beep of the timer slices through the silence, stabbing at the bubble of suspended time. My hand shakes as I reach for the phone, thumb jabbing the screen to stop the noise. It's done. No going back.

I pivot, a slow-motion twirl toward the counter. The test sits there, innocent and damning all at once. I snatch it up, the plastic cool against my heated skin.

My breath catches. Eyes widen. A single line would mean relief, freedom—a continuation of the life I know. But it's not one line.

It's two.

A gasp escapes me, a silent scream that echoes in the stark white of the bathroom. My knees buckle, betraying me, and I crumple to the floor, the test clattering beside me.

"Positive…" The word doesn't sound real. It's a whisper, a ghost of sound that hangs heavy in the air.

I cover my mouth, smother the sob that threatens to spill out. This can't be happening. Not now. Not with everything else teetering on the edge of disaster.

Callie kneels beside me, her eyes wide with concern. She reaches out, her touch tentative on my shoulder. "Brielle?"

Pregnant. The thought swirls, a maelstrom in my mind. Conrad's laughter, Levi's smirk, Grayson's intensity—all crashing together in a wave of what-ifs and how-could-I's.

"Callie…" I choke on her name, on the reality crashing down around me. "I'm pregnant."

Tears threaten, but I blink them away. Can't show weakness. Have to think. Have to plan. But the thoughts are slippery, elusive.

"Okay," Callie breathes, squeezing my shoulder. "Okay, we'll figure this out. Together."

But "together" has never felt so utterly alone.