Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
After talking with Vicious about Shannon’s claim that she was carrying his child, Razor knew what he had to do. The realization had settled in hard and ugly, like gravel in his gut.
He’d called Lottie before riding over, asked if he could stop by. She hadn’t questioned it. Just told him to come.
Now he stood outside her apartment, the door cracked open behind him, a cigarette burning low between his fingers—a habit he’d almost kicked but found himself reaching for anyway.
He lingered at the top of the stairs, forearms braced against the railing as he stared out over the small backyard below.
Evening had settled in, the sun sinking low enough to cast long shadows through the patchy grass, painting everything in muted gold.
Humidity hung thick in the air, heavy enough to cling to his skin.
His bike sat parked at the bottom of the stairs, engine long cooled, dark paint catching the last of the dying light. He hadn’t touched it since pulling in. Hell, he hadn’t event taken off his cut. It stretched across his back like armor he wasn’t ready to peel away.
Because once he walked inside and said the words out loud, everything between him and Lottie could change.
Hell, he hadn’t moved much at all. Just paced the narrow landing a handful of times, boots thudding against weathered wood while he argued with himself. Walk away. Get on the bike, leave this alone for one more night.
Except no matter how many times he tried to justify it, he couldn’t talk himself out of doing the right thing. Because keeping it from her would be worse.
Lottie deserved better than half-truths and buried shit coming back to blindside her later. Better than secrets whispered behind closed doors. Better than finding out from somebody else.
He scrubbed a rough hand down his face, jaw flexing hard before he let out a slow breath that did nothing to ease the pressure sitting in his chest. Then he turned and stepped back inside.
She was in the kitchen, barefoot on the cool floor, hair piled up in a loose knot that had started to fall out around her face.
She was stirring a pot that simmered on the stove.
Something rich and fragrant wafted toward him.
The scent of garlic and butter hung in the air, warm and domestic, cutting clean through everything Razor had walked in carrying.
When she glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him, it hit him—how much he didn’t want to hurt her. But wanting didn’t change the facts.
“Hey,” she said lightly, raking her eyes over him. “You hungry?”
“Not really,” he replied, his voice came out rougher than he meant it to be.
That was enough to make her pause. She turned fully then, spoon still in hand, letting it hover over the pot as her eyes locked on his. Whatever softness had been there a second ago sharpened into a quiet attention. Lottie reading him the way she always did when something was off.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Razor exhaled through his nose, dragging a hand to the back of his neck like he could physically hold himself together. “Can we sit down?”
Her expression shifted, barely, but enough. The smile faded completely. “Yeah,” she said softly. “Sure.”
They moved into the living room. Lottie tucked one leg beneath her as she sank into the corner of the couch, eyes never leaving him. Razor stayed on the edge of the cushion, elbows on his knees, hands clasped, searching for words that wouldn’t destroy everything.
“I went by The Red Door today.”
“Okay…” she said slowly, brows knitting just a little.
“Shannon was there. Waiting on me.” He saw it land.
A shift in her expression—small, but sharp. Not quite understanding yet. Not quite dread. Something in between. She didn’t speak. Just gave a small nod, steady and quiet, like she was bracing herself without letting it show. “Go on.”
“She wanted me to know she’s pregnant.” He hesitated, forcing the words out, “And says it’s mine.”
Lottie blinked once. No gasp, no flinch—just a slow exhale, her body going very still. That guarded calm cut deeper than anger ever could, twisting something sharp in his gut.
“I don’t know if it’s true,” he said quickly. “Vicious and Sherlock are looking into it.”
Lottie dropped her gaze, jaw tight enough to show the muscle working there. “But it could be yours.”
“It could,” he admitted, voice low.
He pushed to his feet, unable to stay still anymore, pacing the narrow stretch of floor between them. Each step was controlled, restrained—like if he moved to fast, something in him might snap.
“Per her contract, she was supposed to be on birth control,” he said, dragging a hand through his hair. “She was supposed to be seeing the club’s physician.”
He stopped, raking a hand through his hair. “But if she wasn’t…”
He didn’t have to finish. Didn’t need to. The silence between them filled in every ugly possibility on its own.
“You don’t have to explain that to me,” she said, her voice steady but low. Measured, controlled. Like she ws holding something fragile together by sheer force of will.
He reached for her hand, hesitating when she didn’t immediately give it. The silence stretched, fragile but not empty. Heavy with everything unsaid, everything hanging between them.
When she finally looked up, her eyes were clear. Calm on the surface, but unreadable underneath.
“I’m telling you because I don’t want lies between us,” he said quietly. “No secrets.”
His thumb brushed against her knuckles, steadying himself more than anyting. “I don’t know how this is gonna shake out,” he added, voice roughening at the edges. “But I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. With you.”
The room sat silent, only the faint hum of the stove in the kitchen breaking the stillness.
Finally, Lottie nodded once. “Okay.”
“That’s it?” he asked softly.
She drew in a slow breath, letting it out through her nose like she was steadying herself on the exhale. “What do you want me to say?’ she asked. “That I’m not pissed? I am. That I’m not scared? I am.” Her gaze held his, unwavering.
“But I also know you told me,” she added. “And you didn’t have to.”
Seconds past before she spoke again, “That means something.”
“If she’s lying, we shut it down. If she’s not…” He paused, the words catching like grit in his throat.
“We figure it out,” Lottie finished for him.
“You’d stay?” he asked quietly.
She gave him a look—wounded but steady. “I don’t run easy, Razor,” she said. Not from things that matter.”
That landed hard. He reached for her hand again, slower this time, like he didn’t trust the moment to hold. She didn’t pull way. This time she reached for him to.
Her fingers were warm, grounding. Razor nodded, tension finally easing out of his shoulders slowly.
“I’m sorry this is happening—to us,” he said quietly. He’d barely gotten them back to where they needed to be, and now this.
Razor leaned in, dragging a hand through her hair before threading his fingers into the heavy weight of it. His grip tightened just enough to tug her closer. The kiss was meant to be soft. Quick. Something quiet after everything they’d just said.
Instead, the moment her mouth touched his, restraint slipped.
He pulled her against him, the hand at her hair steady while the other settled at her hip.
What started gentle deepened fast. Slower than desperate, rougher than careful.
The kind of kiss that carried too much behind it.
Relief and fear. The need to hold onto something good before life found another way to take a swing at it.
He drew back just enough for his forehead to rest against hers, breath uneven.
“C’mere,” he murmured, his thumb brushing along her jaw.
Lottie moved closer without hesitation, hands settling against him as he leaned back against the couch. His fingers drifted through the loose strands of her hair again, lingering at the nape of her neck as she shifted between his knees, close enough that he could keep hold of her.
The moment stretched there—quiet, intimate, the air between them changed. His hand tilted her face back and leaned in capturing her lips with his, pushing the kiss deeper this time, slower, like he was trying to hold onto something he knew he’d almost lost.
Just then, his phone rang. The sharp sound cut through the moment like glass. Razor leaned back, breaking the kiss with a low curse, irritation flashing across his face as reality shoved its way back in.
He pulled the phone from his cut and answered, tone clipped, “What?”
“Hello to you too, princess,” Vicious said on the other end, his voice dry. “We’re needed at the clubhouse.”
Razor exhaled through his nose, as his fingers toyed with Lottie’s hair. “Where are you?”
“Still down at the auto shop.”
Razor glanced toward the door, already shifting gears. “You think Sway would come up and keep Lottie company? She could probably use her best friend tonight.”
There was a pause on the line. “Yeah,” Vicious said finally. “That’ll work. I can swing back and pick her up when we’re done.”
“Good,” Razor said.
Razor hung up, slipped his phone back into his cut, and stood, pulling Lottie up with him. He kissed her again—soft, lingering, reluctant—before murmuring, “I’ve gotta head to the clubhouse with Vicious. Sway’s gonna hang out while we’re gone.”
Lottie nodded, still calm but tired. “Okay. I’ll save you some food.”
“Thanks,” he said, managing a small smile. “It does smell good.”
He brushed his thumb across her knuckles once more before letting go and heading out the door. “Maybe you and Swaycan talk about…you know.”
“You wouldn’t mind?” she asked him, turning her hand over intwining her fingers with his.
“No. Not at all. Sway’s probably already been read in,” he told her.
Lottie smirked. “I’ll make sure you both have a plate when you get back.”
Razor smiled and kissed her quickly before leaving her sitting watching him go.
On the stairs, Sway was already waiting, her hair pulled up, shop keys jingling in her hand as she came up towards him.
“Thanks for hanging out with her,” Razor said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just dropped a bomb on her. I hate leaving, so… yeah, thank you.”
Sway’s expression softened. “You’re doing right by her, Razor. Go handle your shit. I’ve got Lottie.”
He gave a short nod, then headed down toward his bike—the night air cool, the weight of everything pressing down again as the engine turned over.
Inside, Sway closed the door behind her and went straight to Lottie, wrapping her in a hug—the kind only a best friend could give. “Vicious told me what’s going on, I hope that’s okay?”
Lottie hung on to Sway as she nodded against her shoulder. “Yes.”
It took less than a heartbeat for Lottie to break. Sway felt the tremor start, the quiet sobs shaking through her shoulders. She smoothed a hand down Lottie’s back, gentle and steady. “Let it out,” she murmured. “I’m here. We’ll get you through this.”
Lottie pulled back, eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Will we?”
Sway managed a soft smile. “Yeah. We will.” Then she sniffed the air, forcing a lighter tone. “Now… what smells so good?”
“Lasagna,” Lottie said, brushing at her face as she moved toward the kitchen. “I’ve got a nice red to go with it.”
“None for me,” Sway replied, following her in.
Lottie glanced over her shoulder, brow creasing. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine. Still scared. But Razor found us an amazing doctor. So, that makes us both feel better,” Sway said.
They moved around the kitchen in practiced silence, the kind that only comes from years of friendship. Sway grabbed plates from the cabinet while Lottie pulled the bubbling lasagna from the oven, the smell of tomato and basil thick in the air.
“Want salad?” Lottie asked, her voice steadier now.
“Sure. Something green to make me feel like I’m making good choices,” Sway teased.
That earned her a soft laugh—the first sound that didn’t feel heavy between them. Lottie poured herself a glass of wine, then filled two plates and joined Sway at the small kitchen table.
For a few minutes, they ate in silence. The clink of forks against plates, the low hum of the refrigerator—small, normal sounds that made everything else fade to the edges.
Finally, Sway spoke, “You know, he did the right thing telling you.”
Lottie nodded, staring at her plate. “Yeah, I know. Doesn’t make it hurt less.”
“No. It doesn’t.” Sway’s voice softened. “But it means he respects you. That’s rare around here.”
Lottie’s throat worked as she swallowed hard. “I keep thinking about her. About how she looked at him when I saw her at the clinic. Like he was the answer to something she’d been searching for.”
Sway arched a brow. “Don’t start thinking you’re in competition with that.”
Lottie gave a weak smile. “It’s just hard not to worry where I stand with Razor sometimes.”
“I understand,” Sway said quietly. “You forget, I’ve been the girl waiting at home too. Wondering what’s gonna happen to me and Vicious.”
Lottie looked up at her, meeting her eyes. “You and Vicious are solid, though.”
Sway shrugged. “Yeah, but it took time…after…the kidnaping. She paused, her gaze softening. “You and Razor—you’ll get there. Just don’t shut him out before he gets the chance to prove it.”
Lottie nodded slowly, her eyes glistening again. “I don’t want to lose him.”
“Then don’t.” Sway reached across the table, squeezing her hand. “You’re stronger than you think, babe. And if this turns out to be nothing, you’ll be even stronger for getting through it together.”
For the first time that night, Lottie let herself believe that might be true.