Chapter 29
KINGSTON “FROST”
Stevie’s at the end of her first trimester. Since things are good and she’s fine with telling people, we decide to let everyone know at tonight’s meeting at the Rebel Room, possibly before Skull’s announcement. When I arrive home, she’s crying outside on the deck.
I rush out, kneel, and ask, “What’s wrong?”
She blows her nose, patting her eyes, and says, “Nothing.”
After realizing it’s not an emergency, I sit in the chair next to her. “So you’re crying over nothing?”
Stevie’s blotched face turns to me and she starts giggling. “Yes. It happens when someone is hormonal. I ball for no reason. I’m pathetic.”
I place my hand on her small bump of a belly. “How are you feeling?”
She wipes the rest of the tears. “Hormonal.” Then she shrugs. “I was sick a lot today.”
Every fucking time I look at Stevie, my dark armor, harshness, and smartass comments fade.
She’s a smokeshow, yet over the months after finding out Stevie was pregnant, my head and body aren’t so distorted.
I’m not as angry anymore. Things are lighter and harder all at the same time.
I’ve grown soft around her. Emotions tucked in tight, I’ve refused to expose them to anyone, yet I’ve accidentally done so with Stevie.
Still, I refuse to voice them. I’ll take my weakness for her to the grave.
We can be in a relationship without me baring my fucking blackened soul to her, which will only end in pain.
Her pain. My pain. Stevie is way out of my league.
And I’m glad. At least our kids will have a fighting chance at being smart and attractive.
The back of my hand touches her forehead. “We’ll stay home.”
She takes my hand from her forehead and holds it in her lap. “No. This is important to you.”
“It’s fine, Rebel. We’ll do it another time.”
“I’m better now.” She lets out a shaky laugh. “With emotions piled on top of each other, but I’m better after eating crackers.”
We stare at each other for a while in our own thoughts.
The fading sun casts a yellow glow on her face, which has me lightly grasping her jaw and kissing her.
My wild mouth and deprived dick take her in a dominant, needy way, yet she doesn’t shy away.
Her firm, giving lips cause my cock to heat and throb.
When we’re done, we back up an inch, panting, eyes traveling over our faces.
In my head, I sound like a pussy when I think about how stunning she is.
I couldn’t have picked a better woman to be the mother of my kids.
She’ll be great unlike my piece of shit mom, who brought me into this world on drugs and anger.
Before this becomes something, I stand and say, “I’m hopping in the shower and then we’ll go.”
Like most of my recent showers, they’re longer because it’s my place to jack off to visions of Stevie. In the conjugal room. My bedroom. Living room. Pregnant. The endless scenes of Rebel irritates the fuck out of me since she’s off limits.
We walk into the club, and I immediately feel protective over Stevie.
My hand rests on the middle of her back as my brothers’ conversations dwindle into surprised, gaping faces.
The music shuts off. Like a bunch of ants gathering around a crumb, everyone drifts toward us.
I forgot the last time we were here Stevie said she didn’t want to be part of this fucking club. Those were her words.
There’s an uncomfortable quiet until Smokey says, “Look who finally fucking stopped by.” Everyone murmurs an agreement. “It took a club meeting to get your ugly ass here.”
He slides a beer down the bar to me, which I catch without losing sight of Stevie who is glued to my side. I slug down some beer then glance down at her as she scans the room, while standing on my foot.
“Stevie.” She blinks up at me. “What do you want to drink?”
“Lemonade.”
The guys close by burst out laughing and she jumps at the noise as my Uncle Jorden yells out, “We don’t serve lemonade, darlin’. Only hard stuff.”
My arm drapes over her shoulder and I order a soda for her. Once she sips her drink, the tension seeps out.
I blurt out to Smokey, “I’ve been busy.”
“Doing what?”
Stevie’s arm wraps around my waist, hugging me close, and I look at her.
She’s been doing things like this. Touching me.
Being affectionate. There’s never been space for this shit in my life, yet the more affection she shows, the more I crave it.
Our eyes meet, and hers lighten as if giving me the okay to tell them.
While I’m still focused on her, I say, “Stevie’s pregnant.”
Beer bottles hit the bar. Gasps. Swearing.
A giggle. Then the giggle spreads into laughter, so I check to see where it’s coming from.
Duchess. Her hips sway through the crowd, holding her protruding belly, and she hugs Stevie.
They rock back and forth, and she whispers about how our kids will grow up together.
Skull exits his office and slows his steps when he notices the tension in the room. “What did I miss?”
Smokey shouts, “It seems we’ll be seeing a little badass Frost running around here soon.”
Skull’s head whips in my direction and he approaches with his hand out. “Fucking A. I knew something was up. The way you gaze at Stevie—”
I cut him off, “Anyways.”
Stevie pipes in, “What do you mean the way he gazes at me?”
I’m giving Skull the evil eye and swearing at him under my breath, daring him to say another word. And the fucker takes on the challenge.
He shouts, “He fucking loves you, Stevie.”
Her mouth drops open, eyes dart to mine, silently asking if it’s true.
Instead of coming clean, I ignore the comment.
There’s no fucking way I’m going to tell her I love her in front of my brothers with the possibility of finding out it isn’t mutual.
My childhood was humiliating, settling into my bones, and I refuse to be laughed at for my feelings for Stevie and have Stevie refuse me.
I might be stupid, but I’m not that dumb.
Wait! Did I just fucking admit to loving her?
Smokey answers, “Frost won’t admit it in front of us. His balls are too big for that shit.”
I yell back, “Yeah, well my big balls have super sperm, because Stevie’s pregnant with twins.”
The entire room is up for grabs. Drinks are poured and dispersed.
Music blares from the jukebox. My brothers smack my back and congratulate me.
Some even migrate over to Stevie and laugh, giving her their condolences.
Even when someone is talking to me, I keep her in my sights, glancing at her with interest. The way she ducks her head a bit and smiles at their humor.
Gears approaches her. They pause because of the bad history between them.
Early on, Gears only followed my orders, harassed her, treated her bad to force her to visit me in prison.
Things haven’t been resolved. He’s whispering something as she nods.
Then he opens his arms, and she walks into his embrace.
Gears’ body buries hers. My mouth and hands twitch, frowning in their direction.
Skull breaks everything up as he yells, “Turn the fucking music off. I don’t mean to take away from Frost’s and Stevie’s news, but there’s more to come.
” He hops on top of the bar, stands, and continues.
“I’ve been to Frost’s house and realized there’s a lot of land behind it, along with a little forest area.
The land wasn’t for sale, but after a little persuasion, I convinced the city to sell to me.
” His gaze falls on me. “I haven’t talked to your neighbor yet.
” He addresses the crowd again. “This means we’ll be building a new clubhouse and houses on fifty acres of land—our own community. ”
The place roars to life, and I find myself reaching for Stevie. Just as my hand is about to touch her, the guy I tattooed months ago steps in front of me, holding out his hand and blocking my view of her.
“Congrats. You probably don’t remember me.”
“Sure. Ex-marine.”
“Crew Porter.”
“Right.”
“Thanks for telling me about this place. This is my first time here.”
Stevie comes over and he congratulates her.
The three of us stand, glancing at one another, not knowing what else to say.
Stevie makes small talk. The way she hooks onto his words, eyes skimming over his face, brings out the jealousy in me.
A rarity, except when it comes to my woman and kids.
My arm snakes around her back, resting my hand on her hip.
Some of the old ladies cut into the conversation to congratulate Stevie.
While she’s talking to them, my hand remains on her, and Crew and I scan the room, drinking our beers.
I scope him out. Big fucking ex-marine. Tats. Sharp jaw. Clean-shaven. A wanderer. He doesn’t fit in anywhere. Built the way he is with a military background, he’d be a great addition to the Wolves of Mayhem. Depends on how far he’s willing to go outside of the law.
I snip off the silence by asking him, “Ever consider joining a MC?”
He shrugs. “Never considered, but it’s a possibility.”
“Think about it.”
Crew nods, holds his empty beer up, and moves to the bar.
Resting against a pole, Stevie’s speaking to a new prospect who I can’t recall his name.
The fucker reaches over and touches her stomach.
I snatch his wrist, twisting as his body swivels in the same direction.
His eyes water, pleading for me to let him go.
Rebel yells, “Stop, King.” My eyes meet hers. “You’re going to hurt him.”
“That’s the plan.”
“He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“He touched you.”
Her hands latch onto the one I have on the prospect’s wrist. “I mean it. Don’t act like a barbarian.”
The way her face scrunches from disappointment forces me to release the guy, and I say to him, “Don’t fucking touch what doesn’t belong to you.”
The guy grabs his wrist, rubbing it, and scurries away like a rat. I’ll talk to Skull about getting rid of him. We need men in the MC, not pussies.
Stevie touches her face and closes her eyes. Her skin is pale and clammy, and the redness in her eyes proves she’s exhausted. She wasn’t feeling good all day.
“Come on, we’re going home.”
While I lead her to the truck, she gives goodbyes to as many people as possible.
On the drive home, she turns to me and says, “Don’t ever do that again.”
“Do what?”
“Hurt someone who hasn’t done anything wrong.” My nose flares as I blow air out of it and she continues. “Is this how you want our children to act? To hurt people because they’re uncomfortable or whatever it is you are?”
Without thinking, I say, “I’m fucking jealous.” My hands grip the steering wheel harder. “Okay, I admit it. I’m jealous. I’m a grown ass jealous motherfucker.”
“We’ve talked about this King. As long as I’m with you, there’s no one else.” She shakes her head. “You have to do something about your anger, jealousy, and hatred. I refuse to bring up our children in this kind of environment.”
I slam on the breaks, arm shooting out to stop her from sliding forward, and hiss, “You refuse? I’ll never fucking let you take my kids away from me, Stevie.”
Her eyebrows dip low, removing my hand from her chest, and she responds, “I wouldn’t up and leave, but I’d move out of your house if you continue to subject them to your turbulent outbreaks. I’ll let you see them on my terms.”
I whip the wheel to the right, pulling over to a curb, and kill the engine. “On your terms?” I point at my chest. “I’m the one with a fucking job. I’m the one who puts a fucking roof over your head.”
She turns away, wiping at her tears, which I caused. To see a woman cry doesn’t affect me, but when it’s Rebel, daring me, pushing me…and I lash out, there’s a tug of pain inside. I run a hand down my face, head falling onto the headrest, staring at the roof of the truck.
“It’s our house, Stevie.”
My head turns and her eyes meet mine. “No it’s not, especially when you throw it in my face. Yeah, I get it, I don’t have anything, which is why we’re in this predicament.”
“What fucking predicament, Stevie? We’re in a relationship. You wanted honesty. To hear about my feelings. I fucking tell you how I feel and you throw it back in my face.”
She fingers my resting hand on the middle console. “Let’s not fight. I didn’t mean to suggest I’ll take the children away from you. I’d never do that, King. You’re their father. But I also don’t want them exposed to an unkind environment.” She adds a kicker. “Do you?”
I look out my window and back at her. “They’ll be brought up around my brothers and the MC. It’s a tough environment.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t cushion and protect them from some of the MC life, such as the violence, does it?”
My jaw tightens, thinking about her comment. My MC is a tough crowd, but they’re family. Loyal. They’ll watch out for my kids. Always be there for them. But she’s right. My kids shouldn’t be exposed to the darker side of this lifestyle.
She cuts off my thoughts. “Can we start this conversation over?” I nod.
“I apologize for dismissing your feelings. That’s on me.
You have a right to your emotions, and I want you to open up to me.
” She pauses. “We should talk things through. I understand you don’t want to parade your emotions around in front of your brothers, and you don’t have to.
You don’t have to show or prove anything to them, King.
But the ones you do have to show your emotions to are our children.
” She gives my hand a light squeeze. “I’ll do my best in expressing my feelings for you. ”
“Which are…”
There’s a razor’s edge to the silence, slicing at my insides. She’s rattling my vulnerability. I’m holding my breath, waiting for her to destroy me.
In a soft whisper, she says, “I’m falling for you, King.
” She offers a whisper of a smile as she grips my hand.
“I get upset over your outbursts, your abrasive behavior at times…but I’m falling hard for your handsome face.
For the small and big things you’ve done for me.
I’ve never told you before, so I’m telling you now.
Thank you for everything. Our relationship isn’t conventional, yet I’m safe with you.
” Her hand rests on her stomach. “Our babies are lucky to have you as their dad.”
She. Just. Fucking. Crushed. Me.