mine {h.s.} | {b3}

CHAPTER ONE

— CHAPTER ONE —

july, year four.

"Oh, my God." I croak out, reaching with shaking hands to grab the test from where I had set it down to wait. Beneath me, my legs grow weak like jell-o. Sensing this, Harry is quick to reach out and stabilize me with a firm arm running around my waist. "Oh, my God." They seem to be the only words capable of leaving my mouth. Again and again I repeat them, my hands trembling as I try to make sense of what I am seeing. I'd suspected it all along, though I'd never planned for what I would do or how I would feel when my suspicions were confirmed.

"Okay, okay, kid, I got you. I got you, Gray. I'm right here," immediately, Harry is aware. Aware of what a moment this is for me. Pregnancy has horrified me in the years since I lost Harriet. Regardless of how much I want a child, the notion of getting pregnant provides me with enough potential for nightmare to consume most my sleeping nights. It even did prompt one of my more recent nightmares; the one in which woke me up in the middle of the night to hash out with Harry. Losing another child is a fear that is fresh on my mind at nearly all times. "Right here," he continues to soothe as he pulls me back into his arms. In his arms I find that I am out of harm's way. He holds me so tightly there, secure. Fingers thread through my hair and I can hear the erratic thumping of his own chest. Two different reactions, though neither invalid.

Temporarily he is staying his own reaction. That much I know with certainty as my breathing begins to accelerate. My fingers clutch at the fabric on the chest of his t-shirt—not able to fully wrap around his body. The material easily cinches beneath my trembling fingers. "Pregnant," I mutter, my voice sounding entirely foreign to me as I debate the practicalities of my new reality. "I'm pregnant. We're pregnant."

"We're pregnant," he repeats, his voice more obviously enthused than mine.

"We're going to have a baby."

"We're going to have a baby!" Radiance doesn't begin to adequately describe him. I'm not even looking at him fully in the face. He's tucked me away neatly into the chest of his shirt and he holds me there with all of the certainty of someone who knows exactly what I need. In this moment, he does. Hell, in most any moment he knows exactly what I need.

"Harry," my voice is limp and numb. Even while holding on to him, I begin to shake. My entire body feels weak as possibilities flash through my head. Reminders of how I had spent months crafting a safe environment for Harriet to live, yet, in a second all of that was gone. I don't regret the end of my relationship with Will. I think that was inevitable. But losing Harriet is something that I doubt if it will ever truly leave me. "I can't—I'm not—"

Incomplete sentences fall from my lips with an alarming frequency as I poorly attempt to verbalize my fears and qualms. Of course, Harry knows me. I have never tried to hide this part of my life from him. He knows as well as I do the ample amounts of conversation that I had with Will about the fact that I'm not ready to be pregnant. Harry and I ourselves even had a conversation that approached that territory ourselves.

So, let me get this straight. You had a dream where you and Will—

Were still together.

And Harriet hadn't—

Died, yeah.

Oh. Gray.

It was weird. It was like Will and I drifted apart anyway. Besides, it's not like it was a dream world or anything. You and I were hardly in touch.

No.

Yeah. I was pregnant again, too. You were driving me to my abortion.

Of course I was.