Chapter 11 Frost
FROST
The cool night air hits me as I burst through the door like my ass is on fire. I breathe hard, and my hands shake from the adrenaline coursing through my veins. The parking lot is full of bikes, and the distant sound of music and laughter spills out from the clubhouse.
Everything was perfect. Christmas, the proposal, the bachelor/bachelorette party, the carnival, and, despite the food poisoning, the rehearsal dinner.
Paige even made it back in time for the wedding.
Now I want to call it off. Because what if Hope doesn't have a choice?
What if she's only marrying me because she's pregnant and feels trapped?
What if none of this was ever real?
“What the fuck was that?”
I spin around to find Chaos storming toward me, and he looks pissed.
“Not now,” I growl.
“Yeah, now.” He gets right in my face, his jaw tight. “You want to tell me what the hell you're doing? You just walked out on your woman.”
“You don't unders—”
“No, brother, it's you who doesn't understand.” His voice is sharp, cutting through the haze in my head. “You want to explain to me why you just screamed at Hope in front of everyone? Why you smashed a shot glass and stormed out like a goddamn child?”
“She lied to me!” The words rip out of me, raw and jagged. “She's pregnant, Chaos. She's only marrying me because she has to.”
Chaos stares at me and shakes his head, his expression shifts from anger to something that looks more like pity. “Jesus Christ, Frost. You really are a fucking idiot.”
I step close to him so we’re chest to chest. “What the fuck did you just say?”
He pushes me, and I stumble backward. “She's not pregnant, you dumbass.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. “What?”
“This morning,” Chaos says, his voice quieter now but no less intense.
“The florist called Hope. Canceled her flower order because of some Valentine's Day bullshit. Then the florist, being a complete bitch, by the way, asked Hope if she was pregnant. You know, because why else would someone get married in a hurry, right?”
My heart sinks into my stomach.
“Hope was pissed,” Chaos continues. “So, she said, 'Yeah, I'm pregnant. Sure, why else would I be getting married in a hurry’. She was being sarcastic, Frost. She was pissed at the florist, not confessing some big secret.”
Oh God. What have I done?
“Hope thought you were just stressed from being sick,” Chaos says, and his voice is getting quieter, more dangerous.
“She had no idea you overheard, no idea you misunderstood. Right now, your woman is in there breaking down because the man she loves just humiliated her in front of everyone and walked out.”
The weight of his words crashes down on me, and I can't fucking breathe. “I…” My voice cracks. "I-I thou—”
“You thought wrong.” Chaos steps closer, his eyes hard. “You let your fear turn you into someone you're not. You didn't trust her. You didn't even give her a chance to explain.”
I drop my head into my hands, my chest heaving. He's right, and I fucked up. I fucked up badly.
“Hope was trying to fix the flower situation without bothering you,” Chaos says. “She spent the whole day making silk flowers with Amy and her mom so you wouldn't have to worry about it. And you just... You destroyed her, man.”
I feel like I'm going to be sick.
Hope. My Hope. What have I done?
“So, how are you going to fix it?” Chaos asks, his voice softer now.
I look up at him, my vision blurry. “I don't know if I can.”
“Bullshit.” He grabs my shoulder and squeezes hard. “You're going to march back in there, and you're going to make this right. You hear me?”
I nod, swallowing hard.
“Come on.” He jerks his head toward the door. “Let's go.”
The clubhouse goes silent when I walk back in. Every single person stares at me in disbelief. The music's still playing, but no one moves.
My eyes scan the room until I see Hope standing at the bar where I left her with Amy and Paige. Her eyes are red, and her mascara is smudged. Even though she’s hurt, her chin is up, and her shoulders are pulled back.
I did that to her.
I walk straight toward her, my heart pounding so hard I think it might break through my ribs. When I reach her, I drop to my knees.
“Hope.” My voice cracks on her name. “I'm so fucking sorry.”
She stares down at me, her eyes wide, her lips parted.
“I fucked up,” I say, and my throat is so tight I can barely get the words out. “I heard you on the phone this morning, and I thought… I thought you were only marrying me because you had to. I let that fear turn me into someone I don't want to be.”
Her breath hitches.
“I should have talked to you,” I continue, and my body trembles. “I should have trusted you, but I didn't. I let my insecurity destroy the best thing in my life, and I'm so fucking sorry.”
A tear slides down her cheek, and it guts me.
“You deserve better than that,” I say, my voice breaking. “You deserve a man who will listen to you. A man who will fight with you, not against you. One who will trust you even when he's scared.”
“Fro—”
“I love you,” I interrupt. The words are raw, desperate. “I love you so much it terrifies me. And I'm asking… No, I’m begging you to forgive me even though I don’t deserve it. I’ll spend the rest of our lives making it up to you.”
For a moment, she just stares at me. Then she drops to her knees in front of me, reaching for my face.
“I'm sorry too,” she whispers, her voice shaking. “I should have told you about the florist right away. I was trying to fix it without bothering you because you'd been sick, but that was a mistake. A huge mistake.”
“Hope you were sick, too.”
“I should have let you in,” she says, tears streaming down her face now. “I should have told you what was happening instead of trying to handle it alone. I promise I'll do better.”
I pull her into my arms, holding her so tight I'm afraid I might break her.
“We'll both do better,” I murmur against her hair. “Together.”
She nods against my chest as her fingers clutch my shirt. For a moment, there’s no one in the world but us. Hope’s in my arms, and her heart beats against mine.
It doesn’t last, though, as Amy's voice cuts through the silence. “Well, thank fuck that's over. Can we party now, or are you two gonna keep making everyone cry?”
The tension breaks, and laughter ripples through the room. Someone whoops, and the music kicks back up, louder than before.
I stand and pull Hope to her feet, but I don't let her go. “I'm sorry,” I whisper again, just for her. “I'm going to be the husband you deserve. I swear.”
“I’ll be the wife you deserve,” she whispers back, her eyes bright despite the tears.
I dip my head and press my lips to hers. The kiss is soft at first, and then deeper. I pour everything I feel into it. The fear, the love, the desperation, and the relief that she forgave me.
My hands slide into her hair, and she presses against me, her body fitting perfectly against mine. The kiss is intense, raw, and I don't care that everyone's watching. I don't care about anything except her.
The clubhouse erupts into catcalls, whistles, and cheers.
“Get a room!”
“Save it for the wedding night!”
“That's our boy!”
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. I rest my forehead against hers, my hands still tangled in her hair.
“Two more days,” I say, my voice rough. “And you’ll be my wife. No doubts, no fear… Just you and me.”
She smiles, tears still on her cheeks. “It can't come soon enough.”
I kiss her again, softer this time, and the brothers cheer louder.
When I pull back, Chaos is grinning at me, shaking his head. “You're still an idiot,” he says.
“Yep,” I agree. “But I'm her idiot.”
Hope laughs, and it’s the best sound I’ve heard all day.