Chapter 69: Bryn

My mind is in a panicked mess that I barely hear anything Tabetha says until she waves a hand in front of my face.

“Hello? Earth to B! You aren’t having dirty thoughts right now are you because as hot as you are I’m not talented enough to help your problem.”

That makes a laugh burst out past my lips. “What the heck? I’m not an animal in heat.”

She shrugs. “I mean, the stories you’ve told me say otherwise, but whatever. You do, you, girl.”

I lay my head back and try to let my body relax. I was overthinking when I should be focused on school right now. Everything else can wait until I’m done for the day. Well, at least until my shift at the coffee kiosk is over. I have to work there once a week to help with my work study credit and it looks good on a resume to have past work experience. Not that I need it. I’ve had a job back home since I was twelve. That’s the thing about small towns. Everyone helps everyone. Even young kids have small jobs during the summer.

Now it’s more of a formality because of my scholarship.

“Oh, hey! Did you hear about the new TA for the med department? Apparently he’s super famous. He’s one of the youngest up-and-coming professors in the medical department in, like, the last fifty years or something. I might have to sneak into your class to get a look at him.” She wiggles her eyebrows, but I narrow my eyes on her.

“Don’t you have a sexy boyfriend already?” Her words, not mine.

She sighs. “Yes, and even though I love that guy with my whole heart…I can still appreciate the male form of someone else. I can look without touching…maybe.”

I laugh and we move into more PG topics as we drive the rest of the way to campus. When we make it, we part ways and I get a text notification as I’m entering the medical building.

***Sawyer: Hey baby, just letting you know Coach put a good word in for Maddox and the dean is open to letting him transfer here.

Me: Really? Man, you really have a way of getting things done.

Sawyer: (smirk emoji) I sure do, Little Bee.*

The implication of his text has me swallowing a tight knot in my throat. He sensed what I wanted last night and made it happen and it was…world shattering. I push through the door to the building and nearly hit someone coming out.

“Crap, I’m sorry. I don’t have any spacial awareness.” I say quickly.

I also have a habit of not looking people straight in the face right away. Other wise I wouldn’t be put in such awkward social encounters so often. Hence…Maddox. So imagine my frustration when I finally look at the person and find another very attractive guy standing in front of me. I groan and drop moved back to look at the heavens.

“Seriously? I mean, come on!” I say up to the ceiling.

“Is there a reason you’re having an argument with the man upstairs?” The guy asks with an annoyingly sexy smirk.

This guy isn’t like Sawyer and Maddox. Those guys are ripped athletes and, in Maddox’s case, pure beasts. No, this guy is wearing a button up under a pullover sweater, khaki pants, Oxford shoes, and black-rimmed glasses. His hair is tousled slightly, but it doesn’t make him look unkept. No, he’s perfect. I hate him.

Why is my libido on such high alert? It’s like my body is searching for any attractive male specimen to fulfill its needs. Even after last night! I meant what the heck?

“Sorry, I just need to have a talk with fate later.” I side step him and try to quickly walk off.

If I don’t look at him, then I won’t fantasize. Man, I’m sick in the head. Last night rattled all my common sense and now I was turning into a person who is addicted to sex. This is all wrong, but then I stop short when realization hits.

“Oh, no.” I pull out my phone and put in a quick search.

I read over a few articles and immediately make an appointment with my OBGYN.

You see…people with bipolar disorder often deal with high sex drives and will often experiment. Now who does that sound like?

Why hadn’t I put it together before? My meds must be not working right and that’s why I want to jump so many guys. It’s one of the telltale signs of my disorder.

“Are you okay?” The guy asks.

I had forgotten that he was there.

“Uh yeah. Sorry, I just…” Why am I telling this stranger anything? “Never mind, I need to go. Sorry for almost plowing you over.”

“That’s alright.” He might have said something else, but my ears ring as worry and panic start to settle in.

How far would I have allowed things to go in my current state? Would have taken things so far that I could have hurt the baby?

On instinct, I rest my hand over the small bump that I’m usually able to hide under one of Sawyer’s sweatshirts. What I didn’t expect was for one of the puck bunnies to see me and snap a picture. The sound of it catches my attention and I look her way to find her smirking with her phone still held up.

“Well, is that a baby bump I see? So is that why Sawyer married you? You got knocked up and trapped him? I guess that’s one way to force someone like him to marry you.” She sneers.

I swear the mean girl thing is getting on my nerves. There is a retort on my tongue, but she’s probably recording this, and I don’t want to make things worse than they are. I’m also not confirming her allegations until I talk to Sawyer. What would I say? Anyway I spin it, it looks bad. It makes me look like I tried to snag an NHL prospect before he makes it big and I’ll be set for life and he’ll be linked to me for a lifetime.

So I ignore the girls and walk into my class with my head low. This day is about to get a whole lot worse because I have no doubt that photo and video are already online. I shuffle into the class and choose a seat in the back hidden by a broken light. People start filing in and every time I see someone on their phone, I wonder if they know. Does Sawyer know?

That has me scrambling to pull my phone out of my bag and I’m shocked when I don’t see a dozen notifications from social media. I quickly pull up my conversation with Sawyer and type out a quick message.

***Me: hey, so someone got a photo of me with my bump showing. I’m not sure when, but they probably have video as well. I just wanted to warn you.***

I bounce my leg nervously while I wait for his reply.

***Sawyer: Okay***

That’s it?

***Me: You might want to warn the coach and team. Who knows how big this will get.

Sawyer: I will*

Okay, what the heck?

***Me: Are you upset?***

Another too long wait…

***Sawyer: What? No, why would I be?***

***Me: because this will come out as some sick rumor instead of us telling everyone ourselves. Those girls said exactly what I suspect everyone else will. They think you married me because I’m pregnant and they aren’t wrong. You hadn’t mentioned getting married before I told you.***

My heart races as I imagine what Sawyer must have been thinking. Did he feel obligated to marry me? I don’t doubt how he cares about me, but we could have had the baby and not got married. Oh god…

My chest starts to feel tight and my head starts to feel tight with pressure. My ears start to ring and my vision gets a little blurry.

“Hey, you okay?” A familiar voice says.

I blink through the fog and see a pair of black-rimmed glasses on a handsome face, but before I can say anything, my whole body feels heavy.

“Shit. Someone call 911!” I hear him yell before I’m swallowed by darkness.

The same voice talks to me calmly through the darkness until I open my eyes and see bright lights overhead.

“She’s waking up.” The sound of Sawyer’s voice makes me burst into tears. “Hey baby, don’t cry. Everything’s fine.”

He brushes my hair back and kisses me on the forehead.

“Look who else is here.” He whispers before turning his head toward the end of the bed.

Maddox smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s worried.

“Hi.” I blubber out and hold my hand out to him.

His body relaxes, and he walks around to take it.

“Shit, sweetheart, you had me worried.” He says before leaning down to kiss me on the top of the head.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. We just need to make sure you’re okay.” He says, squeezing my hand.

“How did I get here?” I ask.

“I brought you.” My eyes snap to the door to find the man with the black-rimmed glasses.

Oh…