I don’t know if I can live the rest of my life knowing I’d ended a pregnancy by choice. I mean there has to be some sort of guilt that comes with that, right? Something that weighs heavily on you, that makes you constantly wonder, what if?
There was life inside of me.
That was something.
Something that maybe I should fight for and not against.
Maybe my Pea was the detour I needed to give me purpose. Maybe I could turn this around, if not for me, for my baby.
I could find a way.
My mother found a way, and she had two children.
I blew out a deep breath, bracing my hands on the steering wheel and glanced down at my flat stomach.
There was a piece of me inside there.
There was a piece of Riggs in there too.
There was life.
Me: #SheCameOutSwinging
I don’t know why I texted her. Scratch that, I one hundred percent know the reason and it wasn’t because I was drunk. I had slept that shit off and when I woke up I felt as fresh as a daisy. A wilted one, but whatever.
I text her because I wanted to fix what I broke.
I wanted her to stop looking at me like I hurt her.
Yes, I texted her a hashtag. Yes, I thought it was a good idea at the time. Yes, I stand by my decision because it might make her smile and she had a killer smile. I don’t think she knows the power of her smile, or that she even has a beautiful one. She does it more often, maybe she’d understand how it affects people.
Like me.
I’m doing what I swore I wouldn’t do.
I never rekindle things after I’ve blown out the flame.
But I’m doing just that because of her smile.
Because it’s missing from her face and I might be to blame.
Me: Come on Kitten, talk to me.
Me: I thought we were friends.
That was a stupid move.
Me: #ImAnAsshole
Nothing.
Not even a thumbs up or an emoji.
She gave me a dose of my own medicine and she gave it good.
I chucked my phone across the room and gave up.
You can smell doom, it’s the stench of death, lurking at every corner. The Dog Pound was reeking of doom and I wasn’t the only one noticing it. We all kept our mouths shut because we had no idea what the fuck was going on. I might be new to the brotherhood but there was some kind of code being obstructed by our president and vice president.
The tension was mounting between Jack and Blackie and with my eyes on Wu, I knew it had nothing to do with the gun deal we had going on. They had something else brewing and whatever it was had Blackie hitting the bottle more than usual.
The man was still grieving his wife who died of an overdose, an overdose supplied on the product he was pushing before Jack became the head honcho of the Knights. Bones thinks Blackie’s guilt will be the death of him if he doesn’t get a handle on it.
I think he’s dead already, just waiting for the reaper to call him home.
I parked my bike next to Blackie’s, noticing it was the only one in the lot aside from the few cars. I hung my helmet off one handlebar and strode into the compound.
Bianci was off doing father-to-be crap and luckily for me I wasn’t invited to that sort of shit. After the night I text Lauren, I kept my distance and respected she wanted nothing to do with me. Which sucked, because with the afternoon to myself all I wanted to do was take a ride on my bike with her. I don’t know what the fuck was wrong with me. I guess it’s the game of temptation, wanting what you can’t have.
I stopped in my tracks when I heard a sob and turned around to see Jack’s daughter running down the stairs. She froze, mascara streaking her pretty face, as she buttoned up her shirt.
Well, now.
“Lacey,” I started.
“I was never here,” she sniffled, straightening her back as she stared at me.
I raised an eyebrow. Daddy’s little girl didn’t fall too far from the badass family tree.
“I was never here,” she repeated.
“Never saw you,” I agreed, biting the inside of my cheek. She waited a moment, assessing me to be sure she had my word, before grabbing her keys off the bar and jetting out of the Dog Pound.
I think it was safe to say she wasn’t visiting daddy looking for a handout.
I glanced toward the stairs and decided this afternoon just got a whole lot more interesting.
Who needs Kitten when you got a clubhouse full of demons?
I climbed the stairs, remembering the only bike in the lot was Blackie’s and made my way toward his room.
If I had any brains whatsoever, I would’ve turned the fuck around and minded my own business. But I was bored and stupid. I’ve been doing a lot of stupid shit lately. I needed to get that shit under control, but not until after I saw why Lacey was running down the stairs crying.
I opened the door to Blackie’s room and found him sitting on the foot of the bed with his head in his hands. He slowly lifted his face and the whites of his eyes were so red he looked like he had pink eye.
“Get out,” he seethed.
“You the reason Lacey just ran out of here crying?”