Chapter 23 #2
We exit off the highway, drive down a local road, turn onto a dirt road which leads into the woods. My head whips around, fisting his cut, and I’m panting. Why are we here? Is he going to kill me and bury me here?
Before I can continue down this line of thinking, he pulls up to a clearing overlooking a valley and cuts the engine. I can’t even look at him while I rein in my tears.
His hand disappears into his pocket, pulling out and shoving in my face a pregnancy test. “Forgot something.”
My shaky hand presses against my mouth to prevent a verbal sob.
Shit! It must have dropped out of the garbage or my bag.
I bow my head, crying in silence…and he lets me.
King doesn’t say a word, nor does he console me.
The pregnancy test lays in the grass beside us—a reminder of this fucked up situation. This elicits tears.
The sun has already shifted more to the right, indicating the passing of time.
I’m tired from sitting on his bike for this long, so I scoot back, pull my legs in, and turn on my butt to face the scenery.
It’s beautiful. King is quiet, staring out at the sun reflecting off the river, which cuts the valley in two.
Everything is green. A slight wind lifts parts of my hair, cooling my neck.
The warmth of the sun has me closing my eyes. If only my life could be this tranquil.
When I open my eyes, the sun has slid farther to the right and slipped lower in the sky; a sign it’s late afternoon. I must have fallen asleep, because my back leans against King’s front. Too exhausted to change, I remain where I’m at.
With an audible sigh, and not directed at King, I say, “This view is indescribable. Calming. Inviting.” I pause to scan the area. “A sight I’d love to witness every day.”
There’s a pause, and then King says, “That’s how I see you.”
My body tenses from his voice after several hours of silence, but once the words register, I shift to him. His gaze lowers at the same time his Adam’s apple dips. Our eyes lock. I’m dumbfounded, because it’s the first nice thing he’s ever said to me which doesn’t entail sex.
I stammer out, “Wha—what do you mean?”
King inhales deeply, lets the air out slow, and responds, “Your someone I’d love to see every day.
” A lump catches in my throat, but it clears when he changes the subject.
“Why would you leave without telling me you were pregnant?” I’m not sure I can trust my voice, so I blink. “Why the hell would you do that?”
“You’re assuming it’s yours.”
“Fuck that, Stevie. I know it’s mine.”
My body and mind ache. I can’t fight anymore. This ordeal has extinguished the fight in me.
“In all honesty, I’m not sure what I’m going to do.”
This crazy biker literally growls. “You’re not fucking aborting it.”
I sigh and turn back to the beautiful view. “I never said I would.”
“Or giving it up for adoption.”
The steel of his body touches my back and I shiver. King reaches behind, grabs the shirt he had wrapped his hand in earlier, and covers me. Over my shoulder, I give him a soft smile and thank him, hugging the shirt closer and bringing my attention back to the sun.
“Everything I own is in my car.”
“I already contacted Gears and told him to pick it up.”
Another lull in conversation. What happens next?
As if King could read my mind, he says, “I’d like to…
” He clears his throat. “I’d like to make a go of a family with you.
” My lashes flutter to understand what he means, yet he saves me the trouble in having to figure it out.
“You’re pregnant with my kid and you have no place to go. It might not be a bad thing for us.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “What a romantic offer.”
“I’m fucking trying here, Stevie.”
Lynette’s words come to mind. Violence has always surrounded King. He’s hardcore, and lives by his own rules. Frost has never experienced gentle or caring, so it’s completely foreign to him.
“King. My pregnancy isn’t enough for us to marry.”
“Why? Because you hate me?”
I reposition myself so I can look at him. “Having a child isn’t enough for a marriage. And I’m not sure if I hate you or not. Maybe a little bit.”
He averts my eyes and I shift back to watch the sun dip lower. From here, you can’t hear the traffic, only the flittering of birds and an occasional rustling of leaves and twigs.
King breaks the silence. “I ain’t smart. I’m an asshole biker.” His hand lifts, and from the corner of my eye, I see him run his fingers through his hair. “But I can provide for you and the kid. For the kid’s sake, we can give it a stable home.”
“Why do you want this though King?”
“I just told you.”
“No, I mean why do you want us to become a family. There’s a deep seeded reason for you to want this when family wasn’t something you pursued. If we are to do this, we must understand each other. To be honest. Learn about one another. Communicate.” I take a breath. “So again, why do you want this?”
There is a long pause before he admits, “Because it’s something I never had.”
Well, I’ll be damned. King confided in me.
And if I’m being honest with myself, everything he’s said is true.
I don’t have anywhere to go. He could provide for us financially.
Him and this town are toxic, but who’s to say I won’t find myself in a mess somewhere else.
Yes, this is my way of rationalizing the possibility of creating a family with King.
The attraction is there. King’s admittance must have been hard.
He doesn’t do pretty. King is masculine, raw, crude, and plays by his own rules.
If I rattle off all the horrible things he’s done to me, they still can’t bury the fact that he saved my life.
He cared for me. If what Lynette said is true, he found a way to care for me when he himself didn’t have it in his life.
If he’s willing to try, shouldn’t I for our child? And could I really hide his child away?
All I’m able to say is okay.
“But I want everything.”
My eyes scan the horizon when I ask, “What do you mean everything?”
“My bedroom becomes our bedroom.”
“King, sex is—”
“I’m not fucking talking about sex. I’m talking about us acting like we’re together.” He lets out a sigh and his hand rests on my thigh. “If we’re going to do it, we should do it right.”
“First step is getting to know one another. Sex is the last thing we should think about.”
“All right.”
Silence returns and the sun slumps lower, causing slashes of rays through the upper parts of the trees.
The air is colder, which has me pulling the shirt tighter.
Then King wraps his arms around me, clasping his hands in front of us.
It’s a sweet gesture, and one he probably doesn’t do often, if ever.
“King?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you have a tough childhood?”
His arms stiffen and his breath catches in his throat.
Time ticks by, and when I’m sure he’s not going to answer, he simply says, “Yeah.”