Two is a Lie(68)

“I’m burning up.” I kick the sheet off my legs as an inferno blazes beneath my skin. “Just…please, go let him in and try not to kill each other.”

I feel a little delirious, because one second, Cole is glaring down at me. Then I blink, and it’s Trace’s blue eyes sweeping over me.

“Did you swap bodies?” My mumble sounds logical, but I don’t really know what I’m saying.

“You’ve been asleep for a while.” Trace touches a hand to my forehead then my cheek. “Fever’s still high. Think you can keep down some fluids?”

He holds up a bottle of clear fruit juice.

I nod. “Where’s Cole?”

The instant the question leaves my mouth, my insides contract for reasons unrelated with nausea.

I had sex with Cole, and guilt stabs painfully hard as I look at Trace. Can he see the shame in my eyes? Smell the betrayal on my body?

“I’m right here.” Cole’s voice rumbles from behind me.

I turn my neck and find him sitting in a chair next to the bed, his disgruntled gaze locked on Trace. If Cole loses his temper, I’m in no condition to intervene. I can’t even work up the strength to worry about it.

Trace slides a hand beneath my head and helps me sit up.

“Just a few sips.” He holds the juice to my lips.

The cherry flavor trickles down my throat, cool and refreshing. I grab his wrist, wanting more, but he sets it out of reach.

“I talked to the pharmacy.” He lifts a plastic bag from the floor and places it on the bed. “There’s a stomach bug going around.”

“I hope I don’t get you guys sick.” I rub my head, swaying with dizziness. “You should probably fumigate or something.”

“I’m not concerned about that.” Trace reaches into the bag and looks at Cole, hesitating. “I also picked up this.”

He removes a rectangular package and drops it on my lap.

A pregnancy test.

Denial slams into me, tightening my shoulders. I have an IUD, and it doesn’t expire for years.

Cole surges from the chair, his features twisted in pain and horror. He paces a tight circle beside the bed, his hands raking through his hair and shoulders bunching. Then he stops at the window and stares outside.

“I’m not pregnant,” I say to his back.

If I were, the baby wouldn’t be his. I got sick before last night, and he knows that.

“Take the test.” Trace straightens and clasps his hands behind his back. “We need to know for sure.”

He looks unruffled and indifferent in his fitted navy suit and pinstripe button-up. His wide stance and natural scowl emanates intimidation and sternness, but I see beneath it. The brightness in his blue eyes, the twitch in his clean-shaved cheek, and the way his body leans slightly toward me—all of it radiates emotion. Eagerness. Hope.

I don’t know if he wants to be a father, but if I were carrying his child, that would certainly give him the fate he’s waiting for. It would tie us together forever.

“Let’s get this over with.” I slide off the bed, waving them away when they move to help me.

I’m not going to pee on a stick while they glare and growl at each other. The bathroom isn’t big enough for the three of us anyway.

My legs shake, and the floor spins as I trudge toward the toilet and take the test. I’m so certain it’ll be negative, I don’t wait for the results before returning to the bedroom.

Trace plucks the stick from my hand while Cole tucks me in. Then we wait.

The tension in the room is so thick it’s hard to breathe. Cole and Trace want different results from the test, and one of them will be disappointed. I wish I can say or do something to make it easier for them, but I’m struggling just to keep my eyes open.

Trace doesn’t take his focus off the plastic stick. Another minute passes before creases bracket his scowl and his shoulders fall.

“It’s negative.” He tosses it in the wastebasket, staring at it with unblinking eyes.

My heart hurts for him, but he must know that a baby would’ve put a terrible wrench in an already confusing situation.

Cole releases a heavy breath and lowers into the chair beside the bed. He doesn’t smile or shout for joy, but relief is evident in his soft expression.

Since he returned, he’s mentioned numerous times he wants a family. I don’t know how I feel about that, and this is probably the worst time to bring it up, but it’s on my mind.

“Can we talk about this?” I lean back on the pillow.

Two pairs of eyes turn to me and widen.

“Don’t freak out.” I pull the sheet over me and instantly feel too hot. I kick it off. “What I need to say has to do with both of you.”