Chapter 22
Tessa
I’ve been with Jasper for a little over three weeks.
Being with him has been like a dream come true.
He’s thoughtful, attentive, and kind, but he’s also every inch the rough and ready biker.
Maybe our relationship didn’t have the most conventional of starts, but it really feels like we were meant to be together.
I’m still staying in his suite at the clubhouse.
The Hyenas haven’t made any more moves, but he says it’s not safe for me to be in my home.
Now there are shelves in the closet with my folded sweaters.
My boots are lined up next to his. The stack of mail on the dresser has my name on it. And his baby is growing.
Today we’ll have our first sonogram with our new OB/GYN. We decided to go with Dr. Krauss because Jasper wanted the best for his child as well.
He’s been quieter since the club meeting. He still touches me the same, still pulls me close at night, and still checks the windows when he thinks I’m not paying attention. But his mind’s in two places. I can see it even when he’s trying to hide it.
I don’t ask what he and the officers decided, because I know if I need to know, he’ll tell me. Until then, I don’t press. Trust is an important currency here. I spend it carefully.
The appointment’s just outside town. It’s a cute office that has forest wallpaper and laminated magazines no one touches.
Today, I’m wearing leggings and one of Jasper’s flannel shirts.
I’m not properly showing yet, but all my clothes are starting to get a bit tight.
He offered to bring the truck, but I asked if we could ride the bike.
I’ve really been enjoying riding pillion, I know in a few weeks it won’t be possible, so I want to make the most of being on the open road while I can.
He hesitated for half a second, then said yes.
I think he needed the ride more than I did.
He’s downstairs now, talking with Onyx and someone I don’t recognize.
They’ve been running shifts again, quietly rotating people around the clubhouse perimeter.
I hear the low murmur of their voices through the floor.
Though there is some tension in their voices, it doesn’t sound like a crisis.
I know whatever’s brewing isn’t done yet.
I sit at the edge of the bed and rest both hands over my stomach.
Today we’ll see the baby for the first time.
Fingers, arms, maybe a profile. If they’re in the right position, they’ll tell us if we’re having a boy or a girl.
I lie back on the bed, close my eyes, and allow myself to rest peacefully.
I haven’t said it out loud yet, but I feel it in my heart—this baby is going to be the best thing that ever happened to me.
Jasper comes back upstairs an hour later and announces, “It’s time to head out. Are you ready?”
I get up, give my hair a quick brush, and we take off. Riding on the back of his bike feeds my soul in so many ways. It’s refreshing, a bonding opportunity for us, and a way to enjoy something that’s very important to the man I’m starting to fall in love with.
***
The ride into town is quiet. I loop my arms loosely around his waist holding him tight and feeling safe. Laying my head against his back, I watch the scenery moving by.
As always, we have a four-person armed escort. I know he’s not nervous about the roads. He’s thinking about the baby. About the things neither of us can control once we’re in that doctor’s office and someone with a degree starts talking percentages again.
The waiting room is everything I remember.
Calming pastels, low chatter, and the occasional ring of a phone from the front desk.
A set of parenting magazines on the corner table with titles about cloth diapers and baby-led weaning.
Jasper sits beside me in the hard-backed chair, his arms crossed, his eyes scanning the room.
He seems really uncomfortable with all the really big bellies.
Turning to me, he whispers, “Are you sure you can do this?”
He doesn’t even have to explain. I know he thinks the baby needs more room than I have inside me. “I got this. It’ll work just fine.” I’ll have to get into the intricacies of how most of these women were probably my size when they started their pregnancies.
He’s wearing a black, long-sleeved t-shirt with the sleeves pushed up.
His cut is in the storage compartment on his bike.
We agreed it might draw too much attention, and for once, he didn’t push back.
Still, he looks deeply masculine in a room full of women in loose maternity dresses and polite smiles.
One nurse keeps glancing at him between filing patient charts.
“I make everyone nervous,” he whispers.
“You’re a big scary biker, whether you wear your cut or not,” I tell him teasingly.
He glances sideways, mouth pulling into a small, tired grin. “Yeah, that’s true.”
Before we can talk more, they call my name. He stands before I do. It’s a small thing, but it makes me feel like he is there to help me if I need it. His hand stays low on my back as we walk down the short hallway, past closed doors and posters with smiling cartoon fetuses.
The ultrasound room is cooler than I expected. The lights are dimmed. The screen beside the exam table is black, waiting. I sit on the edge, and Jasper stays standing until the nurse gestures to a chair in the corner.
He drags it closer without asking and plants himself next to me, his knee brushing against mine. His hand finds my thigh, fingers tapping once, twice, then going still.
The technician is a kind middle-aged woman with silver strands at her temples. Her voice is soft but focused. She doesn’t ask a lot of questions, just confirms my name and birthdate and pulls on a pair of gloves.
“Have you had any spotting or cramping?”
“No.”
“How about pain or abnormal swelling?”
I shake my head. “I’m just tired. Of course I’ve had some nausea.”
She nods. “That’s normal. Let’s take a look.”
She lowers the table back, rolls my shirt up, and applies the gel. It’s cold, and my body flinches. Jasper’s hand tightens on my thigh. His jaw flexes, but he doesn’t speak.
When the wand touches my belly, I hold my breath.
The screen blinks once, then flickers to life.
I see our baby for the first time. It’s tiny, curled up with the legs tucked in close.
The hands near the face. There’s the spine, the arc of the skull, the soft rhythm of movement.
The heart’s visible in the center of its chest, flickering with its own pulse.
The room goes quiet because we’re watching the little form on the monitor. I struggle to keep my emotions in check because seeing my child for the first time makes everything so much more real.
“There’s your baby,” the tech announces.
I blink hard, trying to keep the tears from pooling in my eyes.
Jasper leans forward, his gaze intense.
“The heartbeat looks good,” she continues. “It’s steady and strong.”
She turns up the sound and that’s when I hear it too. The heartbeat sounds like it’s beating a double thump. It’s not like mine or Jasper’s. Our baby’s heartbeat is faster than ours.
The technician turns the screen a little more towards us and starts pointing things out. The almost fingers. The little feet. The roll of the shoulder. She freezes a frame and presses a button that prints out a small black-and-white image.
Jasper’s staring silently. His hand comes out to take the image from my hand, and he brings it closer to his face. He looks truly stunned.
The tech smiles faintly, then studies the angle again. “Would you like to know the sex?”
I nod before I even think about it. “Yeah, we both have been thinking it’s a girl.”
She turns the wand slightly, adjusts the view, then zooms in. “Well,” she says, “I’m sorry to say you’re both very wrong about that. You’re having a boy.”
The words sink in slowly. I’ve been thinking of pink booties and cute baby pants with ruffles on the back. I can’t help but laugh as my brain switches gears. “Really? We’re having a son?”
“Yes. You can tell by looking right here.” She zooms. “It’s sometimes hard to tell at sixteen weeks, but here you go.”
We both lean forward and stare at the monitor.
I can barely see something that might mean boy.
Jasper exhales shakily, and I smile because it feels like he’s been holding his breath the whole time he was looking at the screen.
When the tech hits the button to print another image and hands it to him, Jasper finally leans back, staring at the second image.
He murmurs, “Fucking hell,” under his breath, clearly stunned. Then he drags one big hand over his jaw.
The technician gives me another printed image, like providing visuals of our unborn child is part of the service, and she wants to make sure we get enough to be satisfied.
Dr. Krauss eventually comes in to render her professional opinion. “You’re measuring right on track for four months. He’s healthy. No red flags. Placenta looks good. Keep taking your prenatal vitamins and drinking water.”
I nod, still watching the screen. Still watching our son move around.
He’s in his own little world, safe and sound.
The tech prints off my images and, by the time the doctor leaves the room, we have a fistful.
I gather them all up and begin looking through them as the tech cleans the gel off my stomach.
Jasper comes to his feet with both hands in his pockets. He’s still staring at the screen long after it’s gone black. He only stops once the tech wheels the cart the machine is sitting on away.
“Our son looks really healthy,” I say quietly.
Jasper nods, but doesn’t speak. He keeps glancing up. It takes me a minute to realize he’s really emotional.
I pull my shirt down, get up, and give him a hug, never loosening my grip on our prized sonogram images.
That’s when I realize that I’m emotional as well.
I feel the full weight of our situation.
We’re going to have a son, a little mini Jasper with any luck.
Like I’ve been carrying this baby, thinking it was a girl, and just when I thought the surprises were over, we got this one.
When we pull apart, Jasper states quietly, “Thank you. None of this would have been possible if you hadn’t fought the Whitmores to keep our child.
” His words are a not-so-gentle reminder that things could have very easily gone very differently if we both hadn’t been so diligent about wanting him to be born.
“You’re welcome. Terminating was never in the cards. If we hadn’t gotten together, I would have done my best to raise him myself.”
He wraps one arm around my waist and says, “Now, you don’t have to worry about going it alone. You have me to take care of you.”
“That’s true,” I say, smiling up at him. “Bet your parents will be thrilled to find out the gender.”
“They would have been more than happy with a daughter, but him being the first son in the club is going to make me the envy of all my brothers,” he boasts.
I give him a gentle nudge with my elbow. “And knowing you, you’ll gloat shamelessly.”
He chuckles and nods. “You know that I will, darlin’. Just like I brag about how wonderful my old lady is.”
I wrap my arms around his middle and press my cheek against his chest. He calls me his old lady, but I haven’t gotten a property cut, so I don’t know what that means.
We walk out of the building, with his arm still wrapped around me. Jasper asks, “Do you want to shop for the baby, now that we know we’re having a boy?”
I jump at the chance, “That would be amazing.”
We’re on his bike today, so we can’t buy anything big, but I still want to pick out some boy things. I stall out putting on my helmet, and Jasper flicks it with two fingers.
“What’s up? You’re zoning out on me?”
Gazing up at him, I tell him, “I just realized that I’m going to be a boy mom. Do you know what that means?”
“That you’re at high risk for becoming one of those moms who raises her son to think he can do no wrong?”
I nod, “Yeah, that worries me because they don’t even see it.”
He begins fitting the helmet on my head. “There ain’t gonna be no mama’s boys in our family.”
I can’t help but giggle like a schoolgirl. “What do you mean? Your whole family is nothing but mama’s boys.”
He touches the end of my nose with one finger and complains, “That ain’t a very nice thing to say to a big mean biker, even if he is your baby daddy.”
When he climbs on and starts his bike, I wrap both arms around his waist, wondering how I got to be so lucky. Jasper is amazingly easygoing and fun to spend time with.