Breaking The News

Jeremy’s standing in the hallway watching me and the second he sees my face his whole expression shifts, concern replacing everything else.

“Cam—”

“Tracker,” I cut him off, and my voice sounds strange in my own ears, too high and unsteady. “What tracker was he talking about? How does he know where I’ve been?”

Jeremy exhales slowly, runs both hands through his hair until it stands up in different directions.

“Ryan has this thing he does. Puts tracking apps on people’s phones—girlfriends, business partners, anyone he thinks he needs to keep tabs on. It’s something he’s been doing for years.”

“And you knew about this?”

“I knew he did it to other people. I had no idea he was doing it to you.”

The floor seems to tilt under my feet and I close my eyes, trying to process what that means.

Every coffee shop I’ve been to, every time I met Reina, every doctor’s appointment, every single place I’ve gone for who knows how long—he knew.

He was watching me.

Monitoring my every move.

“How long?” My voice cracks on the question. “How long has he been tracking me?”

“I don’t know, Cam. Could be months. Could be the entire time you’ve been together.”

Nausea rolls through me and I lean back against the wall because I need something solid to hold me up.

“You need to tell me what’s going on,” Jeremy says quietly, stepping closer but not touching me, giving me space. “I’ve known Ryan for years and I’ve never seen him like that. What happened between you two?”

I open my mouth to say I don’t want to talk about it, that it’s too complicated, that I need time to think, but what comes out instead is:

“I’m pregnant.”

Jeremy goes completely still.

His face drains of all color and for a long moment he just stares at me like I’ve spoken in a language he doesn’t understand.

“You’re—” He stops, swallows visibly. “Wait, what? You’re pregnant?”

I start to respond but stop because my head is starting to feel strange, light and disconnected, and there’s this pressure building behind my eyes that won’t go away.

Jeremy’s staring at me and I can see him processing, can see the questions forming, and there’s something else in his expression too—doubt, maybe, or confusion.

“Cam,” he says slowly, carefully, “whose baby is it?”

The question hits me like a slap.

“What?”

“I just—Ryan’s been gone for three months, and if you’re-”

“It’s his,” I cut in, the edge in my voice slipping out. “It’s Ryan’s baby. The timeline matches, I promise you it’s his.”

“Okay.” He holds up both hands. “Okay, I believe you. I just had to ask because—”

“Because you thought maybe that’s why I left?” My voice is rising now and I can’t seem to control it. “You thought maybe I was running away because I cheated on him or something?”

“No, that’s not—I didn’t mean it like that, Cam. I just needed to understand what’s going on because Ryan was acting like—”

He stops, shakes his head.

“Like what?”

“Like he’s hunting you. And I need to know why.”

I open my mouth to answer but suddenly my stomach lurches violently and I press a hand over my mouth.

“Cam?”

The nausea hits in a wave and I barely make it to the kitchen sink before I’m throwing up, heaving until there’s nothing left, and this is the first time this has happened, the first time in twelve weeks I’ve actually gotten sick, and I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy or the stress or everything combined but I can’t stop.

Jeremy’s behind me, pulling my hair back with one hand, and when I finally stop and straighten up he’s looking at me with this expression I can’t read.

“You need to sit down,” he says. “And you need to eat something. When’s the last time you ate?”

I try to remember and come up blank.

“I don’t know. Yesterday maybe?”

“Jesus, Cam.” He guides me toward the couch. “Okay, sit. What sounds good? What can you keep down?”

“I don’t know, I just—” And suddenly the only thing I can think about is, “Milk. Do you have milk?”

“Milk?”

“Please, Jeremy. I really need some milk right now.”

He’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind but he nods.

“Okay, yeah, let me check—” He opens the fridge, moves things around, closes it again. “I don’t have any. I haven’t been to the store in a few days. But there’s a corner store two blocks away, I can run down and grab some. Will you be okay here for a few minutes?”

I nod even though I’m not sure that’s true.

“Okay. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

He grabs his keys off the counter and I hear the front door open and close, hear his footsteps retreating down the stairs.

And then I’m alone.

I sink down on the couch, pressing my palms against my eyes because everything is spinning now and I can’t make it stop.

Pregnant.

Ryan tracking my phone.

Hiding in a closet in Jeremy’s apartment.

This morning I woke up thinking I was just sick, just stressed, and now my entire life has detonated.

I need to calm down.

Need to breathe.

Need to figure out what I’m going to do next.

But I can’t hold onto a single thought, and the room won’t stop moving, my heartbeat tripping over itself and—

The front door opens.

“Got the milk,” Jeremy calls out, and I hear his footsteps coming closer. “Cam, you still—”

I try to stand up to meet him but my legs won’t cooperate and the gray edges of my vision are spreading inward and the last thing I register is Jeremy’s face going from concerned to alarmed as my knees give out completely.

The floor rushes up to meet me.

But Jeremy catches me before I hit the ground, one arm wrapping around my waist, the other cradling my head, and I can hear him saying my name but it sounds distant, muffled, like he’s speaking from the other end of a tunnel.

“Cam? Cam, can you hear me?”

I try to answer but my mouth won’t cooperate and the darkness is pulling me under and I can’t fight it.

“No, no, no, stay with me—” His voice is panicked now and I feel him lowering me to the floor, feel his hand against my cheek. “Cam, come on, open your eyes.”

Everything sounds far away—his voice, the rustle of fabric, something clattering to the floor.

I think he’s moving me, lifting me, and then there’s something soft beneath me. The couch maybe, or the bed, I can’t tell.

“Someone’s coming, okay? I’m calling someone, just hang on—”

His voice is shaking and I want to tell him I’m fine, I’m okay, it’s just the stress and the pregnancy and everything crashing down at once, but I can’t make my voice work.

“No,” I manage to whisper, forcing my eyes open just enough to see his face hovering above me, pale and terrified. “No doctors. Please. No—”

“Cam, you just passed out, I have to call someone—”

“No.” I grab his wrist with what little strength I have left. “No doctors. They’ll call Ryan. They’ll tell him. Please, Jeremy. No doctors.”

He stares at me and I watch him struggle with it, watch the fear in his eyes war with whatever promise he’s making himself.

“Okay,” he says finally. “Okay, no doctors. But you need to tell me what to do. Tell me how to help you.”

I close my eyes again because keeping them open is taking too much energy.

“Just stay,” I whisper. “Don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, and I feel his hand close around mine. “I’m right here, Cam. I’m right here.”

My ears ring- and everything goes black.