Jax
You’ll lose the label.
The guys might never talk to you again.
Allie would definitely leave your sorry ass, and you’d never see the girls again.
There’s even a chance you’d end up behind bars.
The list just keeps piling up, reason after reason why I shouldn’t kick Trevor’s teeth in. I try counting to a hundred the entire walk back to the car park, Allie’s arm looped through mine like a leash.
But my eyes are locked on the back of his head like a laser, tracking every movement as his feet scuff the pavement, each step echoing louder off the cement walls.
I inhale slowly, hold it in my lungs until it burns, then slowly let it out through pursed lips.
Keep walking, Jax.
But then I make the mistake of looking down, and all I can see is the sadness swimming in Allie’s eyes. The hurt from everything: the custody battle, all the unnecessary shit Trevor’s started, and—
He had the fucking audacity to put his hands on her?
Recently?
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I hear Allie scream from somewhere behind me—
And my hands are already tangled in the neckline of Trevor’s shirt.
Well, fuck.
I tighten my grip, shoving him until his back thuds against the car.
“What the fu—”
“I should break your fucking jaw right here, but I’m not the one who puts hands on people smaller than me,” I spit, leaning in closer. I watch him tense under me, wincing like I somehow already hurt him.
“Jax, please…” Allie’s voice cracks behind me, and it’s like a punch to the gut.
I look down, noticing his shirt still bunched in my hands and quickly let go.
Before I walk away, I raise a finger slowly, pointing at him. “You ever lay a fucking finger on her again, mate, and we’ll see which one of us is the violent one. Got that?”
He doesn’t answer me, but he doesn’t have to. I know he heard me loud and clear. I could tell by the way his wrist watch shook just standing there under my grasp.
Fucking pathetic human being.
I turn away before I change my mind and wrap an arm carefully around Allie’s shoulders.
She doesn’t say a word the entire walk to the car, refusing to even look at me. Her eyes stay fixed straight ahead, completely zoned out. The silence drags out the whole drive home, turning ten minutes into what feels like ten hours.
Then, just as we finally pull up, I’m unlocking the front door when a noise bubbles up from Allie.
My head snaps in her direction—her hand’s clamped tight over her mouth.
Shit.
I barely get the door open before she bolts past me, straight down the hall. A second later, the bathroom door slams shut, and then comes the sound of her retching. Hard.
I don’t think, I just move, my feet carrying me to the bathroom door, already knocking lightly. “Allie?”
The toilet flushes.
“Can I come in?” I ask, my hand already on the knob.
There’s a sound on the other side, not exactly a yes, but not a no either. I open the door anyway.
She’s sitting on the floor, her head resting in her hands, a wad of toilet paper balled in the other. I kneel in front of her, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“You sure you’re okay?”
She nods weakly. “Yeah. It’s just the anxiety. Today was… a lot.”
I raise an eyebrow, running through every time I’ve been anxious. Sure, I’ve felt nauseous—but not like this. Not throwing up multiple times a da—
Wait.
I glance up at her, trying to meet her eyes. “You’re sure you’re not…”
She shakes her head. “No. It’s not that. I wasn’t sick with the girls at all.”
“Yeah, but—”
And then she’s throwing up again.
I lean over her, gathering her hair in my hands as I rub the small of her back.
Thankfully, it doesn’t last long. She leans back on her heels, wiping her mouth with shaking hands before reaching up to flush the toilet.
I wait a few seconds, turning my words over in my head, careful not to say the wrong thing.
“I know I don’t know a whole lot… but I do know every pregnancy is—”
“Stop,” she snaps, her eyes locking onto mine. Tears well up, and she shakes her head slowly—and I’m fucking gutted. “Please.”
I reach up, brushing my thumb gently across her cheek as my heart cracks into a million bloody pieces. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly, keeping my eyes locked on hers. “I’m just worried, and I think—”
She throws out her hand, palm pressed against my chest. “I know you’re trying to help, Jax, but this isn’t helping,” she says, voice breaking.
My hand moves to her hair, fingers threading through the strands as I draw her close, holding her gently against me while she cries.
I rock her back and forth, letting her unleash everything.
Her breath shakes against me, and I swear I can feel every piece of her soul chipping away—exactly the way I knew it would. And I keep every promise I made and try to become the glue that holds it together.
“Whatever you need, I’m here,” I murmur softly, my voice barely louder than a whisper.
When her breathing slows, I feel her relax into me slightly.
“I don’t want to test and see a negative, Jax. Even though we haven’t started trying, right now I know it’ll haunt me,” she admits quietly into my shirt.
“Okay,” I whisper, pressing my lips to her forehead. “Let me get you some water, at least.”
She nods, and I carefully maneuver my way out of the bathroom. The second the door clicks shut behind me, I drag my hands down my face, then brace myself against the kitchen counter, trying not to kick myself in the arse.
I didn’t want to upset her, but for Christ’s sake, I don’t understand how anyone can throw up that much.
The only people I’ve ever seen that sick were hungover lads after a full night of drinking—and I know for bloody certain Allie hasn’t had a drink since that Halloween party. So that’s definitely not it.
I linger outside the door, giving her a few minutes to herself before I have to go in and be the arse again. The one who keeps bringing up things neither of us have control over.
With her water in one hand and a clean washcloth in the other, I ease the door open and step inside. She’s now sitting on the edge of the tub, her hands cradling her face.
I set the water beside her and kneel in front of her.
She looks up, eyes red and puffy, and my heart twists in a million fucking directions.
“I don’t want to know, Jax,” she says, shaking her head.
“I know, lo—”
“I took one—for you. It’s on the counter, but I don’t want to know,” she says, her sobs cutting her off.
If I thought my heart was twisting before, this completely rips it apart.
Why the fuck did I even say anything? I should’ve just kept my bloody mouth shut.
I lean in to kiss her cheek, but she holds a hand up, stopping me.
“Just look. Please.”
I straighten up, knees heavy like they’ve got cinderblocks strapped to them, and swipe the test off the counter.
I don’t even want to look at the bloody thing. Not when I know how much this is tearing her apart. She says she doesn’t want to know—but the second I have to tell her it’s negative, her whole world is going to crack open all over again.
My eyes flick down, not even needing to linger since the answer is clear as day. I set it back down carefully, then kneel in front of her again with my heart lodged in my throat.
I swallow hard, blinking back the sudden rush of tears as I hold her tight.
She buries her face in my neck, her tears cool against my skin.
“I’m so sorry,” she chokes out, the words tangled in another sob.
“You never need to apologize, Allie,” I say, my voice breaking as I hold her tighter. “Especially not for making me a dad.”
Her body rips away from me, eyes locking on mine, eyebrows drawn tight.
“Wha—”
She doesn’t finish as she scrambles for the test, where two very dark lines practically scream at us.
Tears stream down both of our cheeks now as we look over the test together.
Her hand covers her mouth as her eyes rise to meet mine. “We’re gonna have a baby?”
I nod, pressing our foreheads together. My hand cups the back of her head, threading fingers through her hair.
“We’re having a baby.”