WORST WAY | T. Thomas

14 | 'Subtle'

She leaned forward, bracing both hands on the counter, the sudden wave of nausea making her feel unsteady. Her face had drained of color, and she blinked rapidly, as though trying to focus on something that refused to stay in place.

"I don't know," she breathed, swallowing hard. "I just got—God, I just got nauseous out of nowhere."

Tanner hovered beside her, his presence warm, protective, and immediate. "Was it something you ate?"

Mae shook her head, still leaning over the counter. "No... I felt fine two minutes ago."

He ran a hand over the back of his neck, glancing at the sink. "You sure it's not the dishes? That leftover fish from last night was... sketchy."

"No offense, babe," she said, turning her head slightly toward him, "but I think it was you."

He blinked, confused. "Me?"

"Your cologne," she murmured, still hunched slightly. "It just... hit me weird. Like, really weird."

Tanner looked down at his shirt, then back at her. "This is the same one I always wear."

"I know," she said, rising slowly as the wave passed. "That's what makes it so weird."

He gave a half-laugh, but there was hesitation in it now, a nervous edge. "Okay... should I be concerned that I'm suddenly repulsive to you?"

"You're not," she said quickly, then winced, pressing a hand to her stomach. "Usually. Right now... I don't know. My stomach might disagree."

Mae turned off the faucet and dried her hands, leaning against the counter. The nausea was fading, leaving her with a strange sense of unease, like her body had detected something she hadn't yet named.

"You okay now?" Tanner asked, his voice gentle, laced with lingering worry.

"Yeah," she said softly, quieter than she intended. "Just... caught me off guard."

He stepped closer again, cautiously, as though afraid another wave might hit. He didn't touch her immediately, but his presence was palpable, his hand hovering near her as if unsure whether to comfort her or give her space. "Do I need to throw this shirt away?"

Mae smirked faintly. "Maybe just... don't wear it around me for a bit. Or, like, six years."

Tanner chuckled, though it sounded a little strained. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her gently against his side, but there was a certain hesitancy in his movements, a subtle caution that hadn't been there before. "Noted. I'll burn it later."

She leaned into him, still feeling a little off, but grateful for the way he always made things feel lighter, even when her insides were doing backflips.

He kept his arm around her a moment longer, sensing the subtle stiffness in her spine. Normally, when he pulled her close like this, she melted against him — soft, warm, pliant. But now, there was a tension, a hesitation, as though her body were caught between grounding and bolting.

He pulled back slightly, searching her face. Her color had returned, but something in her eyes lingered, a flicker of unease that hadn't disappeared.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked, quieter this time, the concern deeper now.

Mae nodded, but the gesture was almost automatic. "Yeah. It passed."

Tanner raised a brow. "You sure you're not coming down with something?"

"No," she said, too quickly, catching herself mid-response. She offered a weak smile. "I mean... I don't think so."

"Because that wasn't just a little dizzy. You looked like you were gonna throw up right there on the sponge."

Mae gave a dry laugh. "Great. Just what I want to be remembered for."

"I'm serious, though."

"I know."

He studied her for a beat longer, arms dropping loosely to his sides. His fingertips tapped lightly against his thigh, restless. "You've been off today," he said finally, his tone casual, but under it a subtle thread of worry pulled tight.

She froze slightly.

"You didn't finish your coffee. You said breakfast made you feel weird. And now... you're gagging over my cologne," he added, gesturing vaguely at himself. "Which, by the way, has never done anyone wrong."

Mae rolled her eyes, forcing a lightness into her voice. "If this is an elaborate ploy to guilt-trip me into loving that cologne, it's not gonna work."

But Tanner didn't smile. Not this time. His gaze was steady, almost taut, like he was holding back a thought that refused to leave him.

"Mae."

The way he said her name made her stomach twist again — but not from nausea. From something else entirely: dread, anticipation, a flutter she couldn't quite name.

"I'm not trying to pry," he added, rubbing the back of his neck, quick, nervous. "I just... I don't know. Should I be worried?"

Mae hesitated, her hand drifting almost unconsciously toward her stomach. Tanner caught the movement, his brow furrowing as his mind raced to catch up.

"Wait... are you—? I mean... are you saying...?"

Mae looked at him, eyes wide, uncertain, and whispered, "I don't know. Maybe."

Tanner blinked, swallowed, and pointed vaguely to her midsection. "Like—that?"

"Maybe," she said again, voice small.

His jaw worked as he rubbed a hand over it. "Okay."

"Okay?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," he said quickly, then paused. "I mean—yeah, okay. I'm just... um. Processing."

"You look like you're buffering," Mae murmured, a tiny smile tugging at her lips.

"That's fair," he said with a face that was half amusement, half disbelief. "This is just... sudden. I didn't even know nausea could happen this early. Isn't that, like, second-trimester stuff?"

"No," she said, laughing softly despite herself. "It can happen immediately. Everyone's different."

"Cool. Awesome. I love that for us."

His voice cracked slightly, and Mae reached for his hand.

"You're freaking out," she said gently.

"Not freaking out," he lied. "Just... minor panic spiraling."

"Tanner."

"Okay, like... mild-to-moderate panic. But I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I just—my brain's running fifteen scenarios and they're all loud."

Mae smiled softly, squeezing his fingers.

"You can panic," she said. "It's okay. I did, too."

He exhaled a long breath, shoulders dropping slightly. "You did?"

"Oh yeah," she breathed. "Right after I realized my favorite coffee made me gag."

Tanner let out a real laugh this time, quiet, tired, relieved.

"So what now?" he asked. "Do we wait? Test? Ignore it and hope it was the fish?"

Mae gave him a look, half amused, half exasperated. "We test."

"Right. Yeah. Obviously. That makes more sense than fish denial."

He stepped closer again, slower, deliberate, wrapping his arms around her. His chin rested lightly atop her head, and she could feel the steady warmth of him through her hair.

"I'm not saying I'm ready," he murmured, voice low, hesitant. "But if this is happening... I want to be ready with you."

Mae let her eyes flutter closed, leaning fully into him.

"Same," she whispered.