training wheels. // evan 'buck' buckley

liii. one step at a time

my hand hovered over my phone, my stomach twisting as another wave of nausea hit. it was the third time that week i'd felt this way, and there was no ignoring it anymore. i set my phone down and paced my apartment, replaying every possibility in my mind.

it's stress. i've been working overtime. or maybe something i ate...

my hands trembled as i reached for my keys. the short drive to the pharmacy passed in a blur, my thoughts racing faster than the streets passing by.

the cashier barely looked at me as i paid, shoving the test into my bag and heading straight home. the silence of my bathroom was suffocating as i stared at the small box.

"okay," i whispered, my voice shaking. "it's probably nothing."

my hands worked mechanically, opening the box, reading the instructions. the seconds felt eternal as i waited for the result.

and then it appeared: two bold lines.

my breath hitched as the world seemed to tilt on its axis. "oh, God," i murmured, clutching the edge of the sink. my legs gave out, and i sank to the floor, staring at the test.

hours passed, but the panic didn't fade. i couldn't call buck - not with this. the thought of telling him, seeing his face when i admitted i wasn't even sure the baby was his... it was too much.

i grabbed my jacket and headed out, my feet leading me to an old haunt: a bar i hadn't been to in years.

the low hum of voices and clinking glasses was oddly soothing. i slid onto a stool and ordered a whiskey. the bartender set it in front of me, amber liquid catching the light.

i stared at it, my mind racing. this will help. just one drink to numb the panic.

but my hand froze as i reached for the glass. i saw my reflection in the bar's mirror - haunted, pale, and fragile. and then i thought about the baby.

my hand dropped to my lap. "i can't do this," i whispered.

the bartender glanced my way. "everything okay?"

i shook my head, slipping off the stool. "i'm fine. sorry."

later, bobby sat across from me, watching me fidget with the sleeve of my hoodie. my hands trembled slightly as i avoided his gaze, my face pale and blotchy from crying.

"you don't have to say anything until you're ready," bobby said softly, breaking the heavy silence.

i shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping me. "it's not that, bobby. it's that i don't even know where to start. i feel... so stupid. so reckless."

"why don't you try starting with what brought you here?" he prompted, his voice calm and steady, the kind that always made me feel grounded.

i sighed, tears welling up again. "i... i'm pregnant," i finally admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. "i wasn't feeling right, so i took a test earlier today. it was positive."

bobby's expression didn't shift, remaining calm and supportive as he nodded for me to continue.

"i freaked out," i said, my voice cracking. "i didn't know what to do. so i grabbed my keys and drove to a bar. i mean, of all the places to go, i went there." my voice grew louder, frustration with myself pouring out. "i sat in the bar, just staring at the glass, thinking how easy it would be to drink everything away for one night."

"but you didn't actually drink," Bobby pointed out, his tone encouraging.

"no, i didn't." i sniffled, my hands gripping the hem of my hoodie tightly. "but the fact that i even went there... what kind of person does that make me, bobby? what kind of mother does that make me?"