I found myself playing with Dallas's business card again during the lull before dinner, just after I'd come on shift. I'd never had such a hard time shaking a man from my system, but one night, and Dallas seemed to have poisoned me for just about anyone else. It had been a month, and I'd turned down every offer, even from fuck buddies who I always enjoyed spending time with. No one sparked my interest the way he had.

"Just call him already," Kit complained, crashing down a tray of clean glasses.

"Hey, careful with that! I don't want to be picking glass out of my clothes for a week.”

Kit's dad, Uncle Toby, came out from the back then and we quickly turned to putting the glasses away.

Why won't you call him? You've been mooning over him for weeks!

It was a fling, nothing more. He only gave me his card for if that coyote dude came back. Surprisingly, he hadn't. I couldn't help but wonder if he'd gotten wind of Dallas looking for him. The coyote seemed like the type to cut and run. 

This was insane. I was mooning over a guy I'd slept with once. Enough was enough. Before I could change my mind, I marched over to the trash and threw the card in.

"What are you doing?" Kit hissed.

"Letting go." I blocked her from going after the card. "I'll tell you what I'm going to do. Tonight, I'm going to get laid. And I'm going to forget all about Dallas."

Kit's eyes were big and wary. "Are you sure?"

I nodded firmly. "Absolutely." I was anything but. "Keep an eye out for me. No bears, though—shifter or human." I didn't want anyone who reminded me of Dallas. Kit gave me another skeptical glance, but took the empty tray back to the kitchen without a word.

I shook my hands and rolled my head, trying to jazz myself up. Despite my words to Kit, hooking up with someone was one of the last things I felt like doing right now. I was determined to break Dallas's spell, though, and if that meant hooking up with a new guy every day this week, so be it.

* * *

My "shake Dallas out of my system" plan took a hard turn to the south during dinner. After working years at the bar, the scent of grease and frying food didn't even register most days, but for some reason, tonight, it was turning my stomach over something fierce.

"Is that look of nausea from the wrinkly Kardashian wanna be who keeps eyeing you like a fresh cream puff? Because ew." 

I couldn't add to Kit's assessment like I normally would, because I was too busy concentrating on not throwing up. Unsuccessfully. I shoved her out of the way as I sprinted to the staff bathroom before losing the contents of my stomach. Kit was hard on my heels. 

"Dude..."

I collapsed against the bathroom wall, my face cold with sweat. "On a ten point scale?"

"I give that an eleven in grossness. You didn't make yourself sick just so you could get out of this stupid sleeping with a random stranger quest you put yourself on, right?"

My eyes fell closed, feeling as though weights were hanging from my lashes. "I think this is food poisoning. Or a stomach bug."

"Then you sure as shit aren't going back out into the woods, Typhoid Mary. Home and bed for you. Dr. Kit's orders."

Home and bed sounded amazing. "You sure?" I croaked.

Kit waved an airy hand. "I'll find someone to cover for you. Do you need me to walk you home?"

I forced myself to stand up, gripping tightly to the handicap railing. "Don't you worry about me," I said. "I'm going to curl up in bed with a mug of tea and sleep through as much of this as possible. I have a feeling it's a twenty-four hour bug. I'll probably feel better tomorrow."

"Well, don't plan on coming back to work until Saturday. Keep your germs away from here. I'm already going to have to Lysol everything you touched."

"Okay. I'll get out of here before I turn the area into a biohazard." I stumbled a little as I pushed past Kit.

"You're really, really certain about that?"

I patted her cheek lightly. "I'm fine, baby Kit. I'll tell you what, you can come check on me in the morning. Maybe bring some of your mom's chicken soup?"

She pushed my hand away. "Stop calling me that. I'm not a baby anymore. I'm not even the baby anymore with all the babies running around the den."

"Don't lie, you love being the baby."

Kit tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Only when it suits me. Now go. I'll call Carson. I'll see you tomorrow."

Carson was a good choice. He wouldn't get overwhelmed if things got too busy. I didn't even make a token offer to stay until he arrived, I was already wiped out, and what little energy I had remaining was rapidly declining.

I threw up twice more, once over the stairs up to my apartment, into the alley, and again as soon as I unlocked the door, rushing to the kitchen sink. I hadn't even been able to make it to the bathroom. Afterwards, I collapsed on my bed and slept like the dead.

* * *

I woke slowly to a pounding in my head. It was incessant, and then a voice started yelling at me. It took me a while to realize both the pounding and yelling were coming from outside my head—in fact, they were coming from outside my apartment. They stopped, giving me a moment of relief before my phone buzzed on my nightstand. I fumbled for it, managed to knock it on the floor, and then managed to slide off my bed with a thump when I tried to reach for it without moving too much. 

"Hello?" I grumbled when I finally grabbed it and answered it.

"You really should give me a key if you're going to tell me to come over and check on you."

Even in my half-awake state, maybe especially in my half-awake state, I shuddered at the idea of giving my cousin free reign to my apartment. "I'll be right there."

"Don't bother." I heard the click of my front door and a few seconds later, Kit was standing over me and the call ended. "You're a mess," she pronounced. 

"I'm sick. And asleep."

She grabbed my hand and helped me to my feet. "Well, let's get you tucked in and then I'll warm you up a mug of soup."

I let her fix my covers, but drew the line at letting her literally tuck me in. My brain was slowly booting up, but my stomach was still uneasy. 

"How did you get in, anyway?" I called to her. I didn't have to yell, thankfully. The apartment was small enough she could hear me from the other room.

"Jimmied the lock. We really need to put a deadbolt on that door. I'm surprised you've never been broken into."

"I'm just a lucky fox." The chicken soup smelled amazing, and I realized I was hungry. I couldn't remember eating since lunch the day before.

"Here we are!" Kit brought two mugs of soup, one for each of us, and I scooted up to sit, taking it from her gratefully.

I buried my nose in the steam. "No one makes comfort food like Aunt Dorie."

"Don't let your mama hear you say that," Kit cautioned as she took a sip.

I shook my head. "She's the one who says she couldn't cook her way out of a paper bag."

"I've always thought that was such a strange expression. Why would you want to cook your way out of a paper bag?" Kit climbed up the bed to lean against the headboard next to me.

"I don't know, but if Mom tried, the paper bag would catch on fire. How did Carson do?"

"Not bad. He mixed up a Kentucky Mule and an Old Fashioned, but who in their right mind orders complicated drinks outside of dinner time?"

"Chicks," I teased, leaning over to bump her shoulder with mine. Oh no... my stomach rose up in protest. That was a bad idea.

"Nick, you okay?" 

I was trying to push the nausea down, but it kept growing. "Just a—" I clamped my lips shut and scrambled to set down my mug and make it to the bathroom in time. I only just made it, losing what little soup I'd managed to get down so far, but mostly dry heaving, my stomach still empty from the day before.

Kit turned the sink on behind me and was waiting with a cool cloth when I sat back. "Was it a rough night?"

I took the cloth and pressed it to my forehead. "I threw up a few times right when I got in, but then I collapsed in bed and didn't get up until you got here."

Kit patted my arm. "Wait just a minute."

Like I was going anywhere.

When she came back, she thrust a box in my hands. I blinked at it a few times, not understanding what she had just handed to me. "What's this?"

"It's a pregnancy test," she said slowly.

"You're pregnant?" I exclaimed.

Kit rolled her eyes. "No, asshole. It's for you."

"Why would I need a pregnancy test?"

Kit slid her back down the wall across from me, nailing me with a look. "Why does anyone need a pregnancy test?"

I tossed it back at her, pressing the cloth against my eyes. "I always use protection."

"Always?"

"Of course! What kind of idi—" Except for the one time when I didn't, because Dallas pulled out...

Kit tossed the test back to me as the cloth fell from my eyes. "Exactly. I've been wondering for about a week now. So take it." She closed the door behind her.

She stood and left me alone with my thoughts and the test. Surely not. It was such a minor chance... he'd pulled out well before he came. Okay, a few seconds. But that should have been enough, right? There was no way I was pregnant. I'd take the test and prove Kit wrong.

A few minutes later, I was staring at the positive double lines. Kit knocked and I went to the door. She took the test from my hands and then pulled me into a hug. 

"I've gotta find his number," I said, remembering with sudden and sinking clarity that I had tossed Dallas's card into the trash. 

Kit pulled back, understanding dawning on her face. "Oh shit, it's pick up day. We've gotta go now."

I scurried to throw on some shoes, still in my clothes from the night before, and held the nausea back with my sense of urgency. We rushed across the street and behind the bar to the dumpsters. I slid the door of the giant bin open with a bang.

Empty.

With any hope of contacting Dallas gone, the nausea overcame me once more. Once I finished retching, Kit took me back to my apartment and called in sick for me for the rest of the week. My mind was a jumbled pile of emotions, I was pregnant, a single omega, with no way of contacting the alpha who had knocked me up. I'd never thought I'd become a statistic. I had no idea what this changed, or how I needed to face it. Kit bundled me up on the couch and turned on Netflix, taking care of me without being overbearing. I didn't have to figure everything out today, I realized. Today, I could pretend the world was normal, and binge watch television to carry my mind away. Tomorrow I could start making a plan.