Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
CHLOE
Tank flips burgers on the grill, his movements slower than usual. He’s quieter too, like he’s got something heavy on his mind. Sophie and I finish up in the kitchen, putting the last touches on the mac and cheese and coleslaw. We’ve been doing this Sunday dinner thing for a while now—Tank grills, Sophie and I handle the sides. It’s easy, kind of comforting, like a routine. But tonight, something feels different.
Tank doesn’t say much once we sit down at the patio table. The food’s great, as usual, but the tension in the air is thick enough to choke on. Sophie keeps glancing at him, her brows pulling together like she wants to say something, but she stays quiet.
I can’t take it anymore. I set my fork down with a loud clink and look straight at Tank. “Alright, what’s going on? You’ve been quiet all night.”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares at his plate, his jaw working like he’s chewing on the words. Finally, he exhales heavily. “I’ve been thinking about… everything. About Dagger. About the baby.”
My chest tightens, and my eyes snap to Sophie. “You told him about me and Dagger?” I ask, my voice jumping an octave.
Sophie’s eyes go wide, and she shakes her head quickly. “Of course not! You told me not to, and I didn’t!” We both look at Tank for the answer.
Tank leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. His voice is quiet but serious. “Dagger told everyone at church yesterday.”
The words slam into me like a brick wall. “ Everyone? What the hell?” I gasp.
Tank nods, his expression apologetic. “Mason made him. They were dealing with why he left and... well, it all came out.”
The room spins. My stomach twists. I think about Hawk—what must he think? What did Dagger tell them? Does he know the baby is his?
Tank shifts in his seat, looking straight at me now. His jaw tightens. “Chloe, I’ve given you your privacy since you told us you were pregnant. As far as I’m concerned, it isn’t my business. But now, I have to know... is Dagger the father?”
I freeze. The words hang in the air like a heavy weight pressing down on me. “I... um...” My eyes dart to Sophie, hoping she’ll jump in and help me out, but she just gives me a small, encouraging nod.
Tank exhales sharply, dragging a hand over his face. “Dagger told the club he left that morning because he had messed up. He knew he wasn’t supposed to fuck you, but he did anyway. Jesus, Chloe, why didn’t you tell me?”
I shake my head, frustration bubbling up. “Tank, it’s not that simple. It’s not what you think.”
He leans back, crossing his arms. “Then explain it to me.”
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “He didn’t take advantage of me, if that’s what you’re thinking. I wanted him, Tank. That night I wanted it as much as he did.”
Tank narrows his eyes, his brows furrowing. “Chloe—”
“No,” I interrupt, my voice firm. “I’m not a kid, Tank. I made my choice, and so did he. Neither of us knew what would happen. We didn’t know that night would lead to a miracle…” I trail off, resting a hand on my belly. A small smile tugs at my lips. “But it did. It gave me this baby. And I’m not upset about it.”
Tank leans back in his chair, rubbing his hands over his face. “The club was supposed to protect you,” he mutters. “Dagger was supposed to protect you. And now this…” He shakes his head, his voice softer. “It feels like I failed you.”
“You didn’t fail me,” I say, meeting his eyes. “No one did. This isn’t about blame. It’s about figuring out where I go from here.”
Sophie reaches across the table, placing a hand on my arm. “We’ve got you, no matter what.”
Tank nods slowly, “You’re strong, Chloe. I just… I want you to be happy. That’s all.”
“I will be,” I say, trying to sound confident. “I’m working on it.”
We’re sitting on the patio, the evening air heavy with the smell of charred burgers and coleslaw when Dagger appears from around the side of the house. My heart stutters, and my breath catches in my throat. He’s walking toward us, his steps slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on me.
Tank notices him too and is on his feet in an instant, his fists clenching at his sides. “What the hell are you doing here?” he barks, his voice sharp and full of fury.
Dagger doesn’t answer right away. His gaze shifts from Tank to me, his expression unreadable. “Chloe?” he says, his voice rough but direct.
Tank steps forward, his posture stiff, his jaw tight. “You talk to me, motherfucker,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous.
The tension crackles in the air, so thick I feel like I can’t breathe. My chest tightens, my hands trembling slightly as I glance between the two of them. This is about to go south fast.
Sophie stands quickly, her hand resting lightly on Tank’s arm. “Tank,” she says softly, her voice steady but firm. “Let’s go inside. They should talk.”
Tank’s glare doesn’t leave Dagger, but Sophie tugs gently on his arm. After a tense moment, Tank exhales sharply, his shoulders still stiff as he turns and heads for the door.
Sophie glances at me, her eyes full of concern. “We’ll be inside if you need us,” she says gently before following Tank into the house.
The door slides closed behind them, leaving me and Dagger alone on the patio. My heart pounds in my chest as the silence stretches between us, the weight of his presence pulling at me.
I swallow hard, my voice barely above a whisper. “What are you doing here, Dagger?”
“I think it’s time we talked,” Dagger says, his voice low and steady as he stands a few feet away, his eyes fixed on mine.
I nod slowly, my heart thudding in my chest. “Yeah,” I say quietly, “I guess it is.”
He hesitates for a moment, his hands shoved into his pockets, before tilting his head toward the driveway. “Want to go for a ride?”
I blink at him, surprised by the question. My hand instinctively moves to my belly, rubbing over the small curve. “Probably not the best idea,” I say softly, giving him a look.
Dagger follows my gaze, his jaw tightening slightly as realization sinks in. “Right,” he mutters, his voice gruff.
The silence stretches for a moment, awkward and heavy, before I take a breath and gesture toward the chairs on the patio. “We can talk here.”
Dagger nods, pulling out a chair and sitting across from me. His movements are stiff, like he’s not sure how to start. And I don’t help him. I just sit there, watching him, waiting for whatever he’s come here to say.
The air feels charged, every second dragging out like it’s stretched too thin. Finally, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looks me in the eye.
“I’m here to make things right,” he says, his voice rough but steady. “For you. For the baby. For all of it.”
His words hit me harder than I expect. This conversation was bound to happen, but now that it’s here, I have no idea what to say. The silence between us is almost unbearable. I fidget in my seat, glancing at Dagger as he sits across from me, closed off, his shoulders stiff and his jaw tight.
“Long time no see,” I joke weakly, trying to cut through the tension. But the words fall flat, and the small smile I force doesn’t stick.
Dagger doesn’t react, just shifts in his chair, his eyes flicking away from mine. The awkwardness settles even heavier between us, and I let out a quiet sigh, leaning back in my seat.
“Look,” I start, my voice firmer now. “We hardly know each other. Yeah, it sucked that you left without saying anything, but I’m not here to guilt you into anything. You have no obligation to me.” I pause, glancing down at my belly as I rub a hand over it. “The only obligation you have is to this baby—if you want to be part of their life.”
His head snaps up at that, his eyes locking on mine. “You think I don’t want to be part of their life?” he says, his voice low and sharp.
I shrug, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I don’t know, Dagger. You left, and I haven’t seen or heard from you since. What am I supposed to think?”
Dagger exhales heavily. He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, his calloused hands clasped loosely in front of him. His jaw tightens before he finally speaks, voice low and rough. “It wasn’t about not wanting to be here. It was about not knowing how to be here. Not after everything.”
I snort, the sound sharp. “After,” I echo bitterly, the word twisting in my mouth. “Everyone keeps talking about what happened like it was some kind of crime. Like you—” I jab a finger toward him, “—took advantage of some naive little girl.”
His head snaps up, his dark eyes flashing with something I can’t quite place. Guilt? Anger? It doesn’t matter. I plow ahead, crossing my arms tightly over my chest holding myself together.
“I’m twenty-one, Dagger, not sixteen,” I say, my voice steady but laced with heat. “Yeah, you’re older than me. So what? I knew exactly what I was doing that night. I made that choice. And after the hell I’ve been through, I think I’ve earned the right to make my own damn decisions without everyone acting like I need protecting.”
His gaze locks onto mine, intense and searching, but I don’t back down. Not this time.
“I wanted you,” I spit, my voice rising with every word. “I wanted you to fuck me that night, and that’s exactly what happened. You didn’t force me. You didn’t trick me. I wanted it, and I don’t regret a single second of it.”
The silence that follows is suffocating, thick and heavy like a storm cloud ready to burst. Dagger drags a hand down his face, his fingers brushing over the dark stubble on his jaw. His throat bobs as he swallows hard. “You think this is just about regret?” he finally says, his tone sharper now, but quieter, like he’s barely holding something back. He leans back in the chair, his gaze piercing. “You think it’s just about what people will say? Chloe, it’s not that simple.”
“Then make it simple,” I fire back, my chest heaving with frustration. “Stop hiding behind everyone else’s opinions and tell me what you want.”
For a moment, the tension stretches so taut I think it might snap. Then, he shifts, his hands gripping the edge of his knees as if anchoring himself. But he doesn’t answer. Not yet.
And I don’t know whether to feel triumphant or shattered by the silence.
Dagger drags a hand through his hair, his fingers tugging at the strands like he’s trying to yank the frustration out of his head. His jaw tightens, the muscles ticking as he looks at me with a mix of determination and regret. “Because I can’t ignore this anymore,” he says, his voice strained but firm. “I screwed up, Chloe. I know that. But I’m here now, and I’m trying to make it right.”
The words hang in the air, suffocating and heavy. I can’t take it anymore. I push up from the chair. “Fuck you and your ‘making it right,’” I snap, my voice shaking as I glare at him. “You want to fix something? Fine, but not this. Not me. Leave.”
“Chloe,” he says, his voice softening, but there’s a thread of desperation in it that only fuels my rage.
I shake my head, my arms crossing tightly over my chest as if holding myself together. “No, Dagger. Just leave. We had sex. It happened. It’s not a big deal. You and everyone else need to get over it!”
That’s a lie, and we both know it. My chest feels tight, my throat threatening to close up with the weight of the truth I’m choking down. It was a big deal. A hell of a big deal. It wasn’t just sex to me—it was the first time a man touched me in a way I wanted. It was the first time I felt like I mattered. That night was everything to me.
But I don’t say any of that. I can’t.
Instead, I take a deep breath, my voice colder now. “You need to think about whether you want to be in his life, Dagger. If you do, we’ll figure something out. I grew up without a dad, and I don’t want him to have to go through the same thing.”
I see the way his face shifts—his eyes widening slightly, his mouth opening like he wants to say something—but I don’t give him the chance.
I turn, heading toward the small shed in the backyard that I’ve turned into my refuge, my sanctuary. I don’t look back. I don’t care what he’s doing, whether he’s still standing there or walking away. I’m done. Done with the conversation, done with the regret that’s written all over his face. Done with pretending I’m not still reeling from the way that one night changed everything for me.
As I close the door behind me, the tears I’ve been holding back finally spill over, silent and hot against my cheeks. I press my back against the wall, sliding down until I’m sitting on the floor, my knees pulled to my chest. I want to scream, cry, something, but all I can do is sit there, staring at the floor, trying to convince myself that I don’t care if he stays or goes.
But deep down, I know I do.