Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
DRIFTER
Things with Hell seem to have settled down over the last couple weeks. She’s still on edge, and it’s clear in the way I catch her staring into space sometimes, and in the way she stares longingly at Meli. But she isn’t accusing me of sleeping with the club girls, so we’ve found some sort of peace.
Red and Bella have helped. They’ve been keeping her busy, and although I hate them leaving the confines of the clubhouse at the moment, with everything going on, I know she desperately needs her girl time.
There’s a light tap on my office door, and as I look up from my phone, Hell slips in. Her eyes are alight with excitement, and her smile is contagious. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her like this.
She sits on the edge of the seat opposite me, wiping her hands along her jeans as her knees bounce nervously.
I laugh. “Spit it out then, Hell.” I place my phone on the desk, giving her my full attention.
“I’m late.” She giggles nervously.
I frown. “Late for what? You didn’t tell me you had an appointment.”
She throws her head back, laughing. “You fucking idiot.” She shakes her head, grinning.
My frown deepens. “You lost me.”
“My period,” she explains. “It’s late.”
My eyes widen in realisation, and my heart stutters in my chest. “No way.” She nods enthusiastically. “Have you tested?”
“No. I thought we could do it together.”
I stand, making my way to her. This could be it. Finally, all her dreams could be about to come true.
We sit side-by-side on the edge of the bed, the pregnancy test resting between us like it has weight of its own. I glance at my watch again, then again, the seconds dragging out longer than they should. Hell shifts beside me, her knees bouncing, her fingers twisting together in her lap.
“Is it time yet?” she asks, her voice thin, already cracked with emotion.
“One more minute,” I say quietly, reaching for her hand and squeezing, trying to still the nervous tremor running through her.
She looks up at me then, eyes glassy, searching my face. “You have to check it,” she whispers. “I can’t.”
I smile at her, nod once, trying to be steady for both of us. Her phone pings beside us, the alarm shrill in the silence, bouncing off the walls and straight into my chest. My hand slips from hers as I reach for the test.
The moment stretches, and my breath catches.
Negative.
I lift my eyes to her, and she knows before I say a word. Her face crumples, her brow knitting as hope drains from her eyes.
“I’m sorry, baby.”
Her lip trembles as she squeezes her eyes shut, and a soft, broken sound slips past her teeth as she fights to hold it together.
The test drops to the floor as I pull her into me, tucking her against my chest, my arm locking around her as her body shakes with sobs.
My heart hammers uselessly, every beat wishing I could take the pain from her, wishing there was something I could do to make this hurt less.
I stroke her hair, slow and steady, saying nothing, just holding her whilst she breaks.
“I’m so sorry, Drifter,” she cries, and it feels like my chest caves in all over again.
I lift her onto my knee, cradling her closer. “Shh,” I murmur, my hand moving up and down her back. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Not a damn thing.”
She sniffles, her forehead pressed into my chest. “I thought . . . I really thought this was it.”
“We’ll keep trying,” I tell her gently. “This was only month one. We knew it might take time.”
She nods slowly, settling against me, her breathing uneven but easing. I rest my chin against her hair, holding her close.
“It’ll happen,” I say softly, more a promise than reassurance. “I know it will.”
I’m not sure how long we sit like that before her sobs subside and are replaced by gentle snores. I lift her off me, her body completely spent. She doesn’t stir as I carry her around the bed and place her down, covering her with the duvet.
I hate seeing her so broken. I leave after giving her a tender kiss on her head, closing the door quietly and making my way down to the bar. I need a fucking drink.
“Vodka, Hazel,” I order, seating myself at the bar.
It’s quiet. Most of the guys are out front. The warmer weather has finally arrived, meaning most evenings are spent in the yard. I’m thankful for the quiet—I need the space to clear my head.
Hazel slides the glass along the bar, and I catch it, bringing it to my nose and inhaling before knocking it back in one and sliding it back for a refill.
The club doors open, and Siren strolls in. I inwardly groan. There goes my bit of peace. She smiles as she saunters over to the bar, lowering herself into the seat beside me. As she assesses my face, her smile fades.
“You okay, Pres?” she asks, her voice laced with concern.
I realise it’s the first time in a long while anyone’s asked me that and actually waited for an honest answer.
I knock back the next vodka and place my glass on the bar. Hazel goes to refill it, but I place my hand over the top. I need to keep my wits about me, especially when there’s a giant crosshair on the club at the moment.
“I’m good,” I tell Siren, keeping my eyes fixed to my empty glass.
“You sure?” she asks, placing her well-manicured hand on my kutte. I pull my arm away, running my hands over my face and sighing heavily. “You can talk to me, you know,” she adds.
I arch a brow in doubt. After all, she’s a club girl. “Siren, I do appreciate it—”
She interrupts. “Listen, I might just be a club girl, but I genuinely care. I swear, there’s nothing in it but concern.”
I give a slight nod, my shoulders dropping as I feel the weight of everything.
“It’s just a lot sometimes,” I mutter, my voice low.
“All the drama with the club. Hell trying to conceive. Everything rests on my shoulders, you know?” I give her a side glance, and she nods, placing her hand on my shoulder.
I groan, scrubbing a hand over my face. “What if she doesn’t conceive? I mean, I know I keep telling her it doesn’t bother me, but shit . . . I hope to God she does.” The words tumble out quickly, like they’re pushed out before I can stop them and before I can take them back. Fuck, what am I doing?
“It must be hard,” she sympathises, dragging her stool closer.
“You’ve got a lot of shit to deal with, and it must mess your head up.
” She waits a beat. “But if I know you, you’ll work it out.
You always do. That’s what makes you a good president.
And I know I give Rochelle a hard time,” she admits with a small smile, “but, yah know, it’ll happen at the right time.
And when it does, she’ll make a great mum.
” She shrugs. “Better than mine ever was. And you’re gonna be the best dad a kid could want.
” Her eyes shine when she looks at me. “Protective, strong, all the qualities of a good man. These struggles will pass, Pres. Trust me. Shit, I should know, I’ve had enough of my own.
And I’ve learned that everything happens for a reason, even if that isn’t clear right now. ”
She’s right—who knew Siren could actually talk some sense?
She places her hand back on my arm, squeezing gently. “You can offload to me anytime you need to. I got you, Pres.” Her smile is genuine, warm even. These glimpses she keeps giving me make me realise there’s more to her than the loudmouth who struts around with attitude.
Hell would have my balls for breakfast if she knew I was talking to a club whore about this shit.
It’s not how we do things. I should be turning to Hell.
It’s her job to listen, to soothe. Fuck.
I sigh, the tension returning. I know deep down that right now, Hell can’t handle my shit.
She’s dealing with her own. I laugh to myself.
The fucking President of the Iron Demons MC, talking house with a club whore.
But I sure as hell can’t talk to my brothers.
I don’t want them to think I’m losing my grasp on the club, that I can’t cope.
“Thanks, Siren. I’ve said too much,” I mutter, “I’d appreciate this staying between us?”
“Of course, Pres. My lips are sealed,” she says, winking. She stands and places a chaste kiss on my cheek.
The door swings open, and laughter echoes around the bar as Red and Bella walk in. They come to an abrupt stop when they see us. Bella’s brow furrows in confusion, and Red looks Siren up and down with disdain.
“Where’s Rochelle?” Red asks, her eyes still fixed on Siren.
“Upstairs.”
She hooks her arm through Bella’s and turns in that direction.
“Leave her,” I bellow. “She’s sleeping. It’s been a rough day.”
She spins on her heel, her eyes burning into me, and if looks could kill, I think I’d be at least six feet under. “I wonder why.”
I sigh. “For fuck’s sake, Red, have you ever thought that for once it isn’t me?”
“Hmmm . . .”
I get to my feet and stride the distance towards them. Red stands her ground, her shoulders squaring, but Bella takes a few cautious steps back as I loom over them.
“She was late,” I whisper-hiss, keeping my voice low so only we can hear.
Her face breaks into a huge grin, her eyes wide with excitement. “I wish it was good news, but it’s not,” I add, and her smile fades. “She cried herself to sleep. So, please, just let her rest.” Her head lowers, her eyes closing briefly before she mutters an apology.
“She’s gonna need us all these next few days. Let’s pull together.” And I turn, leaving them standing there, because right now, I feel like I can’t do this.