Chapter 41
Hank
The music in the bar is blasting, feeding my brewing headache. I’d rather be at the door, checking IDs of the patrons, but instead I’m on the inside tonight. The crowd’s been a little rowdier tonight than usual, and they need my muscle.
I didn’t object because it gives me time to see her. Vee.
The hours she spends here are the only time I get to see her these days, and when I’m working the door, that time gets cut far more than I want it to.
She rushes past me again, mumbling a soft ‘excuse me’ to the waitress she bumps into. Again. One hand covers her mouth, and the other holds her stomach as she sprints down the hallway to the bathroom.
This is the fourth time tonight. If she’s sick, she should be home resting.
Curled up in her bed, with medicine working its way through her system as she eats some soup and drinks liquids to stay hydrated.
Instead, she’s here, running an obstacle course across the club floor, playing the game of risk to see if she's going to make it to the porcelain throne in time.
I glare across the room at Luke, who’s leaning against the bar talking to Javier.
He has a beer in his hand and he’s laughing.
Fucking laughing, while Vee, his woman, is sick as a dog.
He turns his head as I clench my fist, almost like he can hear my thoughts.
He looks at me, or rather past me, because I notice his gaze rises over my shoulder; focusing on the hallway Vee disappeared down.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t go after her. His expression eases, as if he isn’t worried.
All I can think about is punching his face until he gets some fucking sense knocked into him.
“Is she okay?” I ask my voice deep and angry as I approach him
Luke glances at me, truly seeing me this time, but doesn’t even bat an eye when he answers me.
“She’s fine.”
My temper spikes at his cavalier tone. My hands clench into fists, shaking at my sides. I take a step back and take a deep breath, doing my best to calm myself. I let my mind remember all the things my therapist discussed with me: ways to calm down before I speak, choosing the words I want to say.
“How the hell…” I pause and rephrase the question. “How can you say that?” I gesture toward the hallway. “That’s like the fourth time tonight she’s had to make a mad dash to the bathroom.”
Javier’s brows lift, and he holds his hands up as if he’s throwing in the flag.
Luke lets out a sigh and acts as if I’m the problem.
I take another step closer, flexing my hands at my sides. “If she’s sick, maybe you should take her home instead of standing here drinking and talking shit.”
I’m seconds away from losing my temper and knocking him the fuck out. Screw what the therapist told me. He’s obviously unconcerned about her health.
He must see it in my face because he pushes off the bar counter and rubs his hand along the back of his neck.
“Calm down, man.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down.” My voice rising higher with each word.
He exhales slowly, eyes darting toward the hallway again before he leans closer.
“We haven’t told anyone yet,” he mutters.
My brow furrows. No, fuck, please don’t tell me it’s something worse than just being sick. All my mind can jump to is that she has cancer or some sort of terminal illness.
“Only Ash, Arizona, and Earl know. ”
“Know what?” Of course they would need to tell Earl. If they need to be out for treatments or something, then their duties with the club will have to be placed on hold.
He hesitates a second, like he’s debating if he should even tell me..
“Luke…” I step closer, holding his attention as he lowers his voice, barely a whisper between us.
“You can’t tell anyone.” His gaze narrows. “I mean it. She’ll kill me.”
I nod. Of course I wouldn’t tell anyone. This is Vee, we’re talking about here. I’ll pick up their slack as much as I can so they can be with her, if that’s what it takes.
If that’s what she needs…
His words detonate between us as he says, “She’s pregnant.”
I blink as his words strike me, hard in the chest. My mouth falls open, but no words come out. Still Luke continues, rendering me frozen where I stand.
“Just shy of finishing her first trimester,” he adds quietly. “At least that’s what Doc says.”
For a second the entire room goes silent in my head.
Javier’s voice cuts through my haze first. Reminding me we’re not alone. Not completely.
“You’re gonna be a dad?” he blurts in shock
Luke gives him a stern look. “Yeah. But keep it quiet. I mean it.”
My chest feels tight. Too tight. Like it’s going to collapse in on me.
So I take a step back. Then another step. They keep talking, but I don’t hear a damn thing they’re saying. It’s white noise. All I can focus on is that one word.
Pregnant.
Vee’s pregnant.
She’s going to have a baby.
My throat goes dry as I swallow, hard as the reality hits me.
His baby or Doc’s baby.
“Who’s the dad?” I ask, curious which one of them was the lucky fucker.
“Both of us.”
I raise an eyebrow. I’m not the smartest man but that just doesn’t seem fucking possible.
“How.”
“It doesn’t matter who got her pregnant. The baby is both of ours.”
My heart warms at that. I like it. If I hadn’t fucked up thenthe baby could’ve been mine too.
My legs move of their own accord; though my body feels numb as I turn around and walk back toward the front of the club.
The familiar noise slams into me again as I push through the crowd.
I should feel nothing but happy for her.
And I am happy for her. God, I am. But the regret sitting in my chest is heavy enough to crush bone.
Because this baby’s not mine.
But once upon a time, it could’ve been.
I slide onto a stool at the ID counter and stare down at the wood grain, memories punching through my head whether I want them to, or not.
Her laugh. Her hands on my cut. The way she used to look at me like I was her whole damn world…
I fucked it all up, And now…now she’s having a baby with my brothers.
I rub a hand down my face,then my brain starts doing what it always does—analyzing.
Planning. Solving the problem.. Her apartment flashes into my mind.
That tiny place across town. One bedroom, and barely enough space for two people.
Let alone the three of them occupying it. And soon there will be four.
I sit there most of the night thinking about it. About Vee. Her baby. About what she’s going to need. And by the time my shift is over, I know exactly what I’m going to do.
The house has just been sitting there, anyway. Empty. For the last two years, since my grandparents died. I kept up the yard and had a cleaner come in once a month and make sure it was clean. When I got with Vee, I was hoping it would be our home. That we’d fill it with kids of our own.
Funny how life works. It will still be her home. Just a little different from how I planned it would be. I won’t be living there with her. It will be her, Doc, Luke, and their children; starting with the baby she’s carrying now.
She’ll have a nice yard, and a room for the baby. And for more to come, if they want that. They’ll all have room to breathe.
It just needs one thing.
Once the store opens, I’m heading out to pick it up.
I spend the night scouring the website for the perfect crib for her baby.
Then I check the paint. I don't know if it’s a boy or a girl, so I go with a neutral color.
Mint green. I add in some animal decals for the wall and check-out my cart requesting an immediate delivery.
Once my shift is done, I head for the apartment and crash on the couch so I can get a couple hours of sleep before cleaning out the room for the nursery. It’s on the first floor, right by the master bedroom. She can always change it later if she doesn’t like what I’ve done.
As soon as the store opens, I call and pay extra for a rush delivery. Thankfully, they aren’t busy.
Three hours later, the delivery truck is pulling out of the driveway. A huge box sits in the middle of the living room, along with the paint and all the supplies I need.
I spend the majority of the next couple of hours rolling paint across the walls, music playing low on my phone while I work.
By the time I finish the second coat of paint, my arms are burning, but I keep going.
I stop long enough to step over to the window and lift it, letting in some fresh air to clear out the smell of paint.
I think I read something somewhere one time that it’s bad for pregnant women, or it could’ve been something my mom told my dad when he would paint the house and she’d gag on the fumes.
After the paint dries, I start on the animal decals I picked out. There’s a big, sleepy-looking elephant near one of the corners of the room. Then there’s a giraffe stretching its neck up to the ceiling. On another wall is a lion curled up in tall grass.
They were just peel and stick designs,but I feel proud of the work I’ve done.
It’s the nursery I’d want for my child, but I’d want motorcycles instead of animals.
I wasn’t sure what Vee would want, but if she doesn’t like the animals, I’ll fix it.
Get whatever she likes. It’s as simple as peeling them off and putting up what she wants.
Now, the last piece that needs to go in the room sits in the middle of the floor.
The crib.
I cut open the box and pull out the pieces.
“Guess I better learn how to build this thing,” I mutter.
Because despite the kid not being mine, I’m making damn sure they have a home.
A deep breath escapes me as I lay out all the pieces on the floor in front of me.
My hands are steady as I work; tightening bolts, lining up the rails, making sure every screw is perfect. I take my time. Partly because I want it done right, and because I’m delaying what comes next.
Seeing her.
She told me to stay away. And I’ve respected that.
I debate just telling the guys and letting them surprise her with it as if it came from them. But a part of me knows they wouldn’t do that.
They’d tell her.
But I need to talk to her. To apologize for how I acted.
The harsh words I said about her in anger.
Then I’ll tell her how much I love her. How I’ve been working on myself and that I want to be in her life.
To be with her. That almost losing her made me realize that sharing her doesn’t mean she’d love me any less.
It’s just one more person making sure she’s okay.
It’s something I’ve been putting off. Until today.