Chapter Twenty-Three
TRAVIS
A gainst my better judgment, I scowl and look at the pregnant woman before me, anger multiplying at the rate of knots. I refuse to look down. What the fuck is she doing here having not been around for months? And why the fuck is she showing up now, full to the fucking brim? Palpitations start stealing my calmness.
It can’t be.
She can’t be… comprehension rains down on me like an unwanted hailstorm. The power behind what I’m looking at is strangling. If she’s here to tell me the kid inside her is fucking mine, I’m about to explode.
This isn’t the time nor the place to be dealing with whatever the fuck is going on here, but even I—a man with little experience when it comes to these things, can clearly work out having watched Tanya grow over the past few months, that there’s every possibility the baby growing inside her is mine. I slept with her the night Mollie first came to the clubhouse. I shouldn’t have. But I did.
But I was safe? It can’t be.
No . I gather my fucking composure, steeling my spine.
I have shit to do. People counting on me.
My attention scatters to Mollie. “Let’s go.”
She looks at me, her chocolate eyes wild with bewilderment. “Travis?” She knows. I can hear it in her soft voice. Clear as fucking day, my girl can see what’s right in front of us.
I don’t like it. “I said let’s go.” Grabbing her hand, I begin dragging her towards the door because right about now that’s all I feel I can do.
“Wait.” She wrenches her hand free from mine before looking at Sophie. “ What are you doing here?” she asks, slowly stepping towards her and Tanya, who’s now stood by Sophie’s side.
I don’t miss the way Tanya scrunches her face at me like I’ve done something wrong. I step closer behind Mollie, oddly needing to protect her from what I fear is coming.
“We were just talking about you, earlier, I mean,” Mollie starts. “Where’ve you been?”
Sophie rubs at her large bump. “Busy.”
“Clearly,” I mutter under my breath at the same time as Mollie.
She gives me a look over her shoulder.
“Baby, I need you to come with me now.”
“Hang on,” she fires at me, her aura shifting. “Why are you here, Sophie?” Having presumably worked out why Sophie’s here, she sounds oddly protective. God love her.
Sophie’s hands drop to her sides. “I needed somewhere to stay. Tan said she could help.”
“Right. And, why do you need somewhere to stay?” I ask, my voice low and commanding.
“Isn’t it obvious,” she says so passive aggressively, I feel my hackles rise.
“Look, whatever’s going on here, you take yourself away from the club.”
She half laughs, pointing at her stomach. “What, because of this?”
I take a steadying breath. “Yes, because of fucking that.” Looking around, my brothers who are still here begin swinging their heads.
“What’s it to you?” she asks casually, her eyes lifting.
I step in front of Mollie, no longer willing to put up with this shit. “I think you know. In fact, everyone in this fucking room appears to know what you’re on about. So, if you’ve got something to say, just fucking say it. I’m a real busy man.”
Then she laughs. “You want me to tell you this baby is yours?”
I can’t stop myself from snapping. “No!” I bark. “I don’t want you to tell me that the fucking baby is mine. I want you to tell me that you’re not here expecting handouts and love and protection. My baby or not, you’ll get fuck all from me. I don’t need a kid in my life fucking everything up, not now, not ever. So take your fucking child, and get the fuck away from here. From me. From my club. Do you hear me?”
There’s a gasp behind me. I go to turn but Mollie’s gone before I can grab her. Jesus Christ. What the fuck is going on? She’s leaving? Fuck!
Dean, who I forgot was here, follows after her. I catch a few more of the men looking at what’s unfolding. Shit like this should be dealt with in private, not for prying eyes and ears to witness.
Tanya laughs as the door slams shut. “Travis you dumb fuck.”
“What?”
“The baby isn’t yours.”
The biggest breath leaps from my chest but I keep my composure.
Sophie takes a step closer to me. “You didn’t even come inside me,” she says. “I may have been a virgin, but give me some credit.”
My arms hang heavy, my palms turned to the ceiling. “Then why the fuck did you make me think it was mine? And why the fuck are you here?” I harshly shout, my chest rising again but feeling an unwanted weight shifting.
“My ex, he…” Sophie’s eyes scan up and down me, “well, I guess I’m a bad judge of character.” I scoff at her dig as she crosses her arms rather angrily. “Anyway, you assumed right away,” she argues, and it pisses me off because she’s right.
“You might want to go after Mollie,” Tanya tells me, interjecting, her eyes jumping to where Mollie left.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Why?” I snap.
“Again, dumb fuck, you just professed that you never want kids.”
“So?” I say, like a fucking idiot.
“ So ,” she says, dragging out the word. “How do think that makes Mollie feel?”
How do I think that makes Mollie feel? Mollie and I have never spoken about kids or a family. That was until she mentioned her dream and I all but had a meltdown.
Shit. Did she see that? Christ, I’m a cunt.
Without another look back I swing open the door, heading towards the sound of her car’s engine. I’m too late. Fuck. I quicken my pace, going after her.
What the fuck is happening? “Mollie!” I shout, seeing the red lights disappearing behind the smoke bellowing from the exhaust.
Dean’s stood lighting a smoke, also watching. “Why didn’t you stop her?” My breath is slightly ragged .
He passes me the smoke he just lit. “She told me not to,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. I look at him blankly. “The kid yours then?”
I take a grateful inhale, eventually blowing out the smoke with my head pointed to the heavens, eyes closed. What the fuck is going on. Mollie wants kids ? “No.”
“That’s a good thing?”
“Of course it is.” It’s just apparently not a good thing to hear the man you moved in with doesn’t want kids, period. “Why do I get the feeling the shit’s only just about to hit the fan?” My question is solemn.
Dean lights his own smoke, slipping his lighter back in his pocket once he’s done. “Do you mean with the club or with Mollie?”
“Both.”
Dean turns on his heels. “I don’t know much about women, mate. Can’t say I ever will. If you think you can sort things with her, then go. I’ll call Elvis, get an update on the coke. But,” I catch his hollowed gaze, double taking when I see the darkness behind his eyes, “whatever happens with her, I’m going to need you, should we have to retaliate.”
Pressing my lips together, I maintain eye contact as I make sure I’m hearing him right. “You mean eradicate them?”
His reply is instant. Rehearsed. “They wiped the south off the map and never paid for that. The way Rocco handled it,” he shakes his head, zoning out momentarily, “I won’t rest until I’m either dead, or we’ve won.”
“I get it.”
“We’ve got rebuilding to do, that’s obviously going to take time. First, we need to stop them dealing. With Elvis pushing for King, we’re strengthening our pipelines. We’ve almost taken all of Nathan’s distributors and buyers as our own. We see this out, we can start to take some fucking control.”
I nod, liking the sound of that plan. I take another drag of my smoke feeling another weight being reapplied. “What work have we got lined up?” He knows I mean with our business.
“Nothing taxing. Haven’t booked much in since finishing yours.”
Rubbing my eyes, I flick the rest of the cigarette to the ground. “Give me tonight. I’ll catch up with you in the morning. Just keep me in the loop about the coke.” I hold out my hand and he takes it, pulling him into a quick embrace. I slap his back. “Wish me luck. ”
He laughs. “Good luck, brother. You’re going to need it.”
I smile as I pull away, but it drops as soon as I see his face. He looks tense before he’s turning, giving me his back.
“How do you mean?”
He throws a hand above his head, signalling his goodbye.
“What the fuck do you mean? What did she… Dean?”
Motherfucker.
Shaking my head, I make my way to my bike, checking my location app before heading off. I see Mollie heading in the direction of the farm. At least she’s heading home. She’s a smart woman. She has work in the morning. After everything that happened today, she’ll be wanting a decent sleep before she has to get up.
My need to suddenly have her in my arms and know that she still needs me becomes desperate. Like the beating of a drum, my heart bangs in my chest, indicating what I fucking need to do, which is get to her.
Racing haphazardly back to the farm, I pull up outside our place not too far behind her. I watch the door close, and I run along the path following her inside. I’m expecting a fight. Some sort of showdown.
But there’s nothing.
No argument. No waiting for me by the door. No punch. No hit to the face. I know she’s pissed. The way she left without saying a word… it’s clear the thought of me having a baby with another woman has crushed her. But as I watch her drop her keys in the dish then begin peeling off her clothes as she walks to the bathroom, I’m not sure what I should do.
I follow cautiously behind her, watching her body sway as she drops my shirt, followed by her t-shirt to the floor. Her hands then unbutton her jeans, and once she’s made it to the sink, she steadies herself, peeling them off her long legs in one fluid motion.
Beautiful.
Her peachy, toned arse looks plush and round. The lace she’s wearing, utterly, jaw-droppingly hot. My greedy eyes absorb every movement as she removes her bra, dragging the straps down her arms and dropping it to the floor. She removes her knickers, discarding some tissue in the toilet, and it’s then I spot the blood from earlier still on her thighs. Turning on the shower, she elegantly walks in and begins washing her body, the soap foaming up evenly across her smooth skin .
She focuses on what she’s doing whilst I watch, unsure whether I should be joining her. My body wants to, but I get caught in a trance. Every pop of her hip, every time she arches her back washing herself, my eyes take it all in. She doesn’t even know Sophie’s baby isn’t mine, yet she’s here.
Her silence still unnerves me, but I mimic it, gazing when she steps out and dries herself. Her hair is still dry, her skin prickled with goosebumps. I can’t tell if it’s pleasure or pain that’s making her skin stand on end. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she removes what little makeup she has on before brushing her teeth. It’s only when she bends, giving me with a perfect view of her arse as she rinses her mouth, do I make my move. Stood behind her, she spits out the water then flits her gaze to me. Still no words. Still this deafening silence.
I don’t like it.
This isn’t our language. I know what she’s doing but it’s making me feel like a fucking arsehole.
“You don’t have to do this.”
Mollie straightens, her bum brushing my cock.
Still silent.
My breathing shallows when glassy eyes meet mine in the mirror. She watches me, watching her, silently assessing me. I wish she’d say something. It’s like the oxygen has been stripped from the air around me. Each breath gets shorter and harder to consume. Every moment she doesn’t say something, anger and terror start clawing away under my skin. Anger because she isn’t behaving normally, and terror because after today, Mollie’s in deeper with the other half of my life than I ever could have imagined. It’s everything I didn’t want for her.
Fear begins crippling my sense. I begin imagining the ways I could force her to talk to me. I could pull her hair and march her to our room. Better yet, I could bend her over the vanity unit and fuck her like I did on my bike. It’s what a dog would do when he feels backed into a corner. He’d fight his way out. Ensure his survival. The only way I’ll survive is if the woman stood before me is with me. Needs me.
She turns, and it’s only when she slowly looks up do I realise, nothing I could do will take away the pain I made her feel tonight. God damn me. All the way to fucking hell.
Placing a hand on her nape, I pull her head to mine, resting my forehead to hers. Her body relaxes when my thumb strokes her neck tenderly up and down. “I need you to talk to me, baby. I’m going out of my fucking mind.”
Still silent.
How long will this go on for? How much longer must she punish me for something that isn’t an issue. “The baby isn’t mine,” I tell her passionately. “You hear me?”
Still. Fucking. Silent.
Because of course, that isn’t the real issue. The real issue is that Mollie clearly wants something I don’t. Where that leaves us, our future, our life that we’re building together, I don’t know. But it will never change the way I feel about her.
Pulling my head back, I watch a single tear slip from her eye. It dances across her cheek, hitting her top lip. I swipe it with my thumb. “Please, say something.”
Mollie’s chest rises and falls. Her mind whirs, the cogs inside banging so fucking loud I can hear every single one. Then she takes a deep breath. “What do you want?” she asks, her voice shaking.
I study her, the softness of her voice mixed with the sadness behind her eyes is crippling. My hand lowers to the towel wrapped around her. Rather than releasing the knot, though, I press my palm flat to her chest. Her heart races in anticipation of my answer. What does she think I’m going to say? “Isn’t it obvious?”
Rolling her lips together, I know she’s trying not to let her emotions fully show.
My hand slides to her chin slowly. Angling her head back, I lower my mouth to her warm, still dampened skin. My lips softly kiss her collar bone, watching as she breaks out in pimples again. And again, I’m left wondering whether it’s in pleasure or pain.
Pleasure at my touch. Or pain from my words.
I kiss my way up, dropping another below her ear, her head angling further back when I gently glide my tongue over her lobe.
She grips the unit behind her, one leg slightly hitching to gain some balance.
I pause before doing it again, retracing my kisses from her ear back to the base of her neck.
Mollie’s breaths become shallow, her inability to ignore the pull toward me so fucking hard. My hands then take her head between them and I pull her towards me, dipping myself closer. Eyes wide open, I watch hers remain closed as our kiss deepens, not missing the small pools that begin gathering in the corners.
Fuck.
Heads tilting, I coax her lips into letting me in, licking and gently pushing past them with my tongue. I command her mouth, kissing her deeply, but making sure I remain slow, letting her know this isn’t about me claiming her. This is about me and her being in this moment together. I’m here. Right fucking here with her.
She never once touches me though. Never allows herself to get more of a fix. It’s fucking painful, but it’s her way of keeping guarded. She wants a truth I’ve already spoken to be erased. I just can’t deny how I feel. I can’t shake the fear that comes with the prospect of having my own children. That small broken part of me has never been an issue because we’ve only ever needed each other. When we found what we have, no one else mattered. The peace we sought without realising that’s what we needed, set us both free.
We haven’t needed anyone else. When she could have turned her back on me, she chose me. She chose us. I don’t think I could share her with anyone, not even a kid. And as fucking stupid as that sounds, it’s the very essence of why my parents left me.
They loved each other too God damn much that even a baby, their fucking child , couldn’t steer them away from each other. I never want to be like them. I never want to inflict the way I felt on a child. The harshest truth I’ve come to realise is that the feelings I have for Mollie, run deeper than anything my parents had.
I grip her cheeks harder, my emotions gripping and twisting my insides so vehemently, if I let them go, I fear I’ll never get a hold of them again. That’s what she does to me.
Her skin blushes, and my hands slide to her hips, love taking over.
I’m stopped from scooping her into my arms when a soft hand presses against my chest. She’s panting gently, her lips red, her eyes downcast. She wants me. She just needs more. “What do you want?” she asks me again, an unsure edge to her words.
Instinctively, I wrap my hand around her waist and pull her into me, her front pressed to my chest. “The only thing I need. You, Mollie. I want you.”
She smiles, but it’s faded.
A great pain suddenly grips my heart. “Is that not enough?” I whisper, hoping my outer calmness is masking my inner turmoil.
The slow movement of her hand from my chest to the side of my face steals my breath. “For now.” Her thumb dusts my cheekbone.
For now? For now means that one day my love for her won’t be enough. “Mollie I—”
“I see the way you love. I watch the way you fight for those things too.” Her thumb runs another delicate trail across my rugged face. Her penetrating gaze slices through mine. “You’ll never be like your parents.”
Those words. Her ability to just know exactly what I’m thinking. It’s proof that she is everything I fucking need. Still, “You don’t know that,” I say, sighing a heavy, depleted sigh.
Her cheeks lift slightly as she attempts another smile. “Yes, I do.” Then her hand’s no longer touching me. The feeling of loss and distance—even though she’s standing right in front of me, is terrifying.
She tries to step away.
I take her hand in my grasp, stopping her, lifting it to my lips and kissing her palm gently. She watches me loving her, presumably fully aware of my need to show her just how much brightness she has brought to my life.
One day she wasn’t there. The next, she was. I don’t know why she was sent to me. Whether it was a higher power showing me what I needed or whether it was a just a case of two lonely people happening to fall for each other, completely out of the fucking blue. All I know is that anything that could jeopardise that, isn’t welcome.
I’m just about to take her mouth again when I hear her take a breath. It comes out more like a sigh. “I’m not feeling great,” she tells me in a rush, leaving me raking my eyes all over her face. She looks plaintive, an almost unsure look washing over her delicate features.
“Baby?”
“I’m just tired. I’ll be fine in the morning.”
I kiss her palm again before dropping her hand. “Okay,” I reply. But I’m not okay. Far fucking from it. It’s as though a giant barricade has landed between us. I’m unable to get to her. Unable to love her the way I do best. We’re treading uncharted territory and it’s all my fault .
She waits for me to leave the bathroom before the sound of her using the loo and washing her hands can be heard from our bedroom. I take off my clothes and climb into bed, checking my phone before I place it on the side.
Dean is with Elvis checking the coke. That’s something at least. Means we’re one step closer to finding where it came from.
This shit with the club couldn’t be more proof that bringing a baby into our world would not only be dangerous, but would bring added fear and worry. Loving Mollie is easy. But she would love a baby more than me. She’d have to. I hate myself for thinking it, but I’m too fucking selfish to allow that to happen.
I hear her coughing and I think about getting out of bed to check her, but her feet pad across the floor and with a few steps, she’s in our room.
“I’m taking you to the doctor in the morning.”
She gives a subtle nod of her head, not arguing. “Okay.” She really is tired.
Mollie dresses into her pyjamas, and I drag back the covers for her to climb in once she’s ready. She kneels on the bed, then lowers, facing away from me rather than curling her body to mine how she usually does.
The sting of my empty, outstretched arm burns like a wildfire in my gut. Any reprimanding words I could have said get stuck in my throat, strangled by the heat now flooding my veins. My teeth grind together as I give her no choice, flinging my other arm heavily over her waist and dragging her into me. She doesn’t have to talk to me. She can have the peace that she needs.
But she’ll sleep where she belongs.