9. Morgan
MORGAN
I lie cocooned in the warmth of Creed’s arms. I savor it, committing every detail to memory before I have to pull away. Last night was a moment of wild emotions and letting them out, but now it’s time for reality.
He doesn’t move as I slide out from under him and tiptoe to the kitchen to start my coffee. It’s my only solace now that I’ve had to give up energy drinks, my dad’s heart attack scaring me off them.
A single cup of coffee, and I’ll treasure it like a dragon protecting his hoard.
My fingers run over the small bump of my belly; it’s not from a baby, obviously.
It’s a stubborn ten pounds I could lose, but don’t care to.
I imagine how it would feel if it stretched, pulled tight growing a child.
Our child. The thought feels foreign, a concept I can’t yet grasp.
Could I have had Creed’s baby?
I’m not sure I want to be a mother. It’s not something I’ve really thought of before.
My parents divorced when I was in elementary school, and my father got me full-time until they sent me to boarding school after my mother remarried within the next year.
It was easier on both of them, and over time, she was too busy with her new family to reach out too often.
Never been in a long-term relationship to consider it either. Didn’t have much time when I was doing everything I could to get a degree and get into the police academy to follow in my father’s footsteps.
I never really thought past that, and now I’m here in this small coastal town spending my night with a man I never imagined. My life pales in comparison to the joy of being near Creed. It makes me want to rethink everything else, and that feels crazy.
A sane woman wouldn’t completely redesign her life for a man they just met? Yet, he makes me want more than this…this life that is forever being the shadow of someone who simply can’t stand me.
Footsteps have me looking over my shoulder, catching his eyes as he watches me from the doorframe of the kitchen. “Morning.”
His lips twitch. “Morning. Mind making me a cup as well?”
I grab another cup, standing straighter as he moves closer to lean against the counter. “There’s creamer in the fridge. Though, I'm not fond of sharing my hazelnut one.”
Creed grunts, a somewhat humorous sound, and I don’t miss the blue hint of a bottle in his hands as he reaches around me to grab the cup I set on the counter. When the fridge closes, I blow out a breath and face him.
His eyes move up, not a bit ashamed that I caught him staring at my ass.
“I have an appointment tomorrow in Cedar Cove so they can confirm there’s no pregnancy.”
Creed’s jaw tics. “Are you telling me or inviting me?”
My heart thunders for a second, nervous for any rejection. “If I invited you, would you want to come?”
“Yeah, Morgan. I’d want to be involved in everything with my kid.” There’s no anger in his tone, at least not that I can tell. It surprises me, but I latch on to his other statement. That he would have wanted to be involved with his kid, not necessarily me. That’s fine, easier that way anyway.
“And if there’s not one?” I’m pretty positive there isn’t. I don’t think the test is false, but he seems so interested in the possibility it is. What if that’s the only reason he’s sticking around? He doesn’t seem like the type, but my lifelong abandonment issues are riding me hard.
Creed is silent for a moment. “We could always just keep trying for one.”
My mouth drops open, my heart skipping wildly. Did he really just say that, and why am I not immediately running for the hills. “Are you serious?”
He sighs. “Look, do I want the kid? Yeah, I do. Ever since I found out you could be pregnant, it’s all I can think about.
My best friends—my brothers—have kids, and I fucking love them.
But…I also heard their women moan about how hard pregnancy was, so I get why you wouldn’t.
Yet would the idea of you being pregnant make me happy? Yeah, I’m a selfish jackass.”
I blink at him, looking around the same apartment. “I’m not sure if I’m ready for kids yet.” It’s the semitruth.
Fuck, where’s my birth control? We weren’t exactly careful last night or this morning.
Creed shrugs. “Okay, then we wait.”
* * *
My fingers pause over my laptop, my ears straining as the laughing men in suits pass by. Something about them gives me the ick, as if their mere presence is coated with evil.
The sheriff claps their backs, my father lingering a few steps behind.
Our eyes catch, and I drop my gaze to my desk.
He knows I won’t say anything, but ever since Creed and I starting seeing each other, I have this growing paranoia that they’ll find out.
And every day in this town, I realize how much some of the townsfolk don’t like Devil’s Tide.
Warner moves to my desk, blocking my view as he clears his throat. He drops a file before me and I glance at it.
“What is this?”
He sighs. “String of break-ins around town. Chief is asking you to hold on to it until he needs it.”
A rock sinks in my stomach. I haven’t had anything to do with the break-ins; there’d be no reason for the file to sit on my desk other than to bury it. My eyes shift to my father’s as he watches with crossed arms and a tight jaw.
I swallow, moving my attention back to Warner, and slide the file under the others on my desk. “And how long does he expect me to hold on to it?”
He shrugs. “Didn’t say.” Warner has enough decency that guilt flickers in his stare before he rubs at his jaw. “Don’t go asking, Morgan. You won’t like the answers.”
My shoulders straighten. “Yeah, I’m starting to get that feeling…”
He nods, returning to his desk next to mine. “Better for us all.”
His words don’t give me any comfort. In fact, they do the opposite. I have the urge to up and quit, right then and there, but then what would I do?
My whole life, my degree and career, have been for the force. And yet, my heart pulls me to explore it more. I’d bet a lot that it has something to do with the club, Devil’s Tide, and I don’t know how I feel about not warning Creed if he’s in danger.
I keep to myself the rest of the day, not that it’s hard. Everyone ignores me for the most part, only approaching at the request of Warner or my father, which isn’t often.
As soon as both of them leave for the night, I slip over to Warner’s desk, looking through his files until I see the club’s name, and take the files back to my desk.
The urge to vomit rises in my throat the longer I sift through the papers before I stuff them under the pile on my desk.
I’m not sure what I’m going to do with the information just yet, but I know I have to make a decision soon.
If not for me and my moral obligation, then for the man I’m quickly growing feelings for.