Chapter 17
Dixie
It’s been almost two months of bliss. Even though I’m getting bigger by the minute, I swear, it does nothing to curb Penn’s appetite for me.
And we lie in his bed—the one that’s become mine now—after a rather acrobatic round of lovemaking.
With my belly becoming more of an obstacle, we have to get a little creative.
Lying on my back for too long creates painful pressure, and Penn prefers to look at me unless we’re in a very intimately tight space.
Even though he seems to love my changing body, it feels a bit foreign to me, and I’m not as secure as I was before, so I’m not always in love with being on top.
It’s hard to stay focused on the pleasure when I can only see my belly as I look down.
“You’re gorgeous,” Penn says, sweat glistening on his skin in the afternoon light.
“You’re just saying that.”
He chuckles. “My cock also agrees.”
“Because you’re getting sex.”
“Because I’m so turned on by the woman spreading her legs for me,” he says.
I’m about to argue when his phone rings loudly, cutting through the quiet air. “Uh-oh.”
“It’s Jethro,” he says, picking it up. “Yeah?”
I know Jethro doesn’t call to chat. He’s the president of the Daredevils, and if he’s calling, something is needed.
“We’re on our way. Do they need anything?”
Sitting up, I’m suddenly worried. “What’s going on?”
He hangs up and jumps out of bed. “Misty went into labor. She has a preexisting condition that had her on bed rest, and Jethro says things aren’t going well. Zep’s about to lose his mind.”
I don’t jump out of bed as much as wobble my way off, but I dress as quickly as I can. I don’t know Misty well, but I know of her. She seems like a nice woman, and I know Zep’s madly in love with her. Not to mention her daughter, Bernie, who has enchanted the entire town.
I force myself to think good thoughts as we hurry to Penn’s pickup, and I hate how happy I am when he holds my hand while he races to the pickup. Things might be going terribly wrong for Zep and Misty, and it doesn’t seem right to feel happiness right now.
“We didn’t put Princess in her kennel,” I say. “That’s my fault. I’m sorry.”
He squeezes my hand. “It’s no one’s fault, and if she gets into anything, we’ll clean it up when we get home. This is more important.”
Fifteen minutes later, we pull into the hospital parking lot, and I see the row of bikes. A neat row of Harley-Davidsons all lined up and sparkling near the emergency entrance. Which does not bode well.
A sinking feeling hits me. This is where I’ll be in a few months. It’ll be me in Misty’s spot, and I just pray everything goes well for Misty and Zep. They’re bringing a new life into this world, and there should be nothing but joy.
We hurry through the sliding glass doors as quickly as my feet will allow, and I’m almost ready to tell Penn to go on ahead. That I’ll catch up. I hate holding him back.
“Don’t even think about it,” he mutters to me, and I can’t help but smile.
Of course he read my mind.
We reach the waiting room, and it’s filled beyond max capacity. It’s standing room only, and it feels far too small with all the leather kuttes, heavy boots, and murmured voices of worried men.
“Dixie, come take my seat,” Phoebe says, standing up from a spot in the back. “You shouldn’t be on your feet.”
Pacino pulls his wife onto his lap, and Penn leads me to where Phoebe just vacated. He helps me sit even though I’m more than capable of letting gravity assist me onto a chair, and Phoebe gives me a bright smile.
“How are you feeling?” she asks.
“I’m okay,” I say, taken aback at how cheerful she seems despite the circumstances. “Worried about Misty and Zep.”
“Things will be okay. I know they will.”
“Cheerful Phoebe,” Penn says, but there’s a warmth to his tone as he smiles at the blonde.
She just shrugs as Pacino kisses her neck. It’s cute how a big man who looks like he’s the biker version of Oscar the Grouch melts into someone who seems like the personification of sunshine.
“Any news?” Penn asks.
Jethro shakes his head, his red hair and beard setting off his strikingly blue eyes. “Not much. They took her back twenty minutes ago. Zeppelin went with her, but there’s something wrong. They won’t let him in with her, and he’s about to rip the doors off the hinges.”
My heart sinks. He’s her birthing partner. He should be allowed back, which means there’s a complication. Complications can be deadly.
Phoebe reaches out and takes my hand, and I close my eyes. Lord, please keep Misty and the baby safe. Don’t take either of them. It’s not their time.
Penn crouches in front of me, his hands on my knees making my eyes pop open. “You okay? Do you need me to get a doctor?”
Shaking my head, I give a shaky smile. “I was just saying a small prayer.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be here,” Capone says. “This could be traumatic for someone in your position.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Penn snaps.
“I’m going to be giving birth in a few months,” I say. “It’s a thoughtful suggestion, but I’m okay. Really. I’d worry more at home than I am here.”
The heavy doors at the end of the hallway swing open, and Jolene Molloy walks into the waiting room.
Zep’s mom is a strong woman, and the truth about Zep being a product of rape only showcased how strong she really is.
But her normally poised and put-together appearance has faded, and she looks about ten years older than her normally youthful appearance.
Her skin is pale, and her hair is disheveled, haphazardly thrown up to fit beneath a cap. Her hands tremble as she moves them over her hips, finding no pockets in the scrubs she was given to wear.
“Jolene,” Jethro says, his voice soft but still commanding like the president he is. “How is she?”
She swallows hard and looks around at everyone. “It’s not good.”
“What does that mean?” Kannon asks.
“There are major complications. The doctor said something about placental abruption. She’s bleeding, and they can’t get it under control.”
My hand squeezes Phoebe’s, and when I glance at her, she looks less than hopeful for the first time that I can remember. She’s bleeding, and they can’t stop it. Not yet.
“There’s a chance that she’ll bleed out, and they’re going to do an emergency C-section. They’re worried about saving the baby.”
“The baby? What about Misty?” Kannon asks.
“They’ll do everything they can, but if they can’t get the bleeding under control, we might lose her. Top priority is the baby right now.”
The words are like a giant gust of wind, knocking the breath out of everyone sitting in the waiting room collectively. No one knows quite what to say, and the room remains silent.
Blood drains from my face, and I press my left hand hard on my belly, the little kick of the baby the only thing currently grounding me. Reminding me I’m here and present.
Misty might die. The sassy woman who came into town and shook up Zeppelin’s life like a tornado with her beautiful daughter who has special needs. The two of them captured the hearts of everyone, and she’s fighting for both her life and her baby’s now.
It’s not fair, and I fight the tears that come to my eyes.
This isn’t the time to cry about this, and it’s certainly not about me.
But it’s not fair. She doesn’t deserve this, and neither does Zep.
Bernie sure as hell doesn’t, and the innocent unborn baby just trying to fight her way into the world definitely doesn’t deserve this hell we’re currently sitting in.
A cold wave of panic hits me, and my breath catches in my throat. I have to fight the urge to gasp for air as everyone around me lets the facts settle on the situation at hand. I need space. I need to step away.
Without a word, I pull my hand from Phoebe’s, lift myself off the chair, and hurry out of the overbearing waiting room until I find an empty hallway. Gripping the bar on the wall, I gasp for air, taking long, deep breaths as I try to calm myself.
Misty has this entire family here for her. The father of her baby. His mother. His club. I am completely and utterly alone in this world.
My father hasn’t looked at me in years. Not since I told him what I truly thought about him and his treatment of Mom. And Mom’s locked away in her latest psych ward stint. The father of my child had my place set on fire, hoping I was inside with our unborn child.
If something goes wrong with my delivery, if I end up bleeding out like Misty, who is going to fight for my baby? Who is going to hold his tiny little hand and make sure he’s loved and cared for?
Penn’s been wonderful, and he says he wants me, but this baby could change everything.
Can a man truly want another man’s baby?
To raise as if he made it himself? There’s a very good chance that once this baby comes, Penn will realize this is more than he can handle.
And what does that mean for my baby if something happens to me?
My knees feel weak, and the floor seems to tilt as I stare at it. Penn’s strong hands help brace me as he says, “Dixie,” with such concern in his voice. “What’s wrong?”
I can’t fight the tears, and the fear takes over. The fear I didn’t know I had until Jolene’s words knocked us all on our asses.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” he says, pulling me against him as I sob into his T-shirt. “Maybe Capone was right. I should’ve left you at home with Princess.”
Shaking my head, I sniffle. “No, I needed to be here.”
“Misty’s a fighter. I’ve seen it firsthand. If anyone can make it through, it’s her. And if she passed even an ounce of her feistiness onto her daughter, she’s going to pull through, too.”
I swallow and push away. “It’s not that. I mean, yes, I’m worried about Misty, but she has this entire family to support her. Zep will be here, no matter what, for that baby and for Bernie. I have no one. I’m completely alone, and if something happens—”
“You are not alone,” he says, his eyes glaring into mine. “You hear me, Dixie? You are not alone.”
My hand presses against my stomach, and I stare down as tears fall and darken the fabric where they land. “Promise me that you’ll make sure he or she’s taken care of if something happens to me.”
“Dixie—”
“Promise me, Penn. If you aren’t willing to raise this baby, I understand, but I need to know you’ll make sure he or she is okay. That they go to a good family who loves them. I need to know my baby will be taken care of if something happens to me.”
Pulling me against him again, he kisses the top of my head. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”
“I can’t just go into this blindly,” I say into his shirt. “Penn, please. Please?”
“If anything happens to you—which it won’t—I will make sure your baby is taken care of. Nothing bad will ever happen to him or her. But you don’t need to worry about it because nothing’s going to happen to you, either.”
There’s comfort in his words, but not enough to squash the fear still taking up space in my chest. “Penn—”
“That entire room of people are your family, too,” he says. “You’re mine, which means you’re theirs. If anything happens to me, you will be taken care of by them. If something goes wrong when you go into labor, they will be here just like we are for Misty. You. Are. Not. Alone.”
That reality settles, and there’s finally relief.
I sob, clinging to him, and he rubs my back, kissing the top of my head and just holding me.
I don’t need words. I need comfort. A solid reminder that I have someone to lean on.
Someone who owes me nothing in this world but has given more than anyone else ever has.
I wipe my eyes and pull back. “I’m okay.”
I do everything in my power to block out thoughts of bright hospital lights, blood-soaked sheets, and foster care. Positive thoughts. That’s what I need now.
We walk back toward the waiting room when we hear the shrill of the alarm. Pressed against the wall, we both stare in shock as Misty’s rushed past us through doors I know lead to the Operating Room.
“Surgical team to OR three, stat!” a nurse says into a phone at the desk across from us. “Get O-negative blood bags from the bank immediately.”
Zeppelin runs out after them, but he’s stopped at the doors. “That’s my girlfriend! Misty!”
“I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t be back there,” the nurse says as security walks up to stop him.
“Where’s the baby?” I ask Penn.
“I need to be with her,” Zep says, his voice frantic as he tries to push past the security guard.
Penn walks over to help pull him back. “There is nothing you can do for her, man. You need to let them do their job.”
Pushing Penn off him, Zep shakes his head. “Fuck you!”
“You’re not a doctor. You’ll be in the way, and you could make it worse.”
“That’s my girl!”
“And you have to put your faith in those trained to save her.”
“Penn—”
“She’s a fighter,” I say. “Don’t lose faith in her.”
His eyes land on my belly, and he falls to his knees. “I can’t lose her.”
“You won’t,” I whisper, praying I’m not lying as I walk over to him. “We have to believe she’ll pull through.”
He sobs against my belly, hugging me as I stroke his hair. “I love her.”
“She knows that. We all do. Don’t ever question that.”
“Zep, where’s the baby?” Penn asks.
“NICU,” he whispers. “Both of my girls are out of my reach.”
“They’re right where they need to be at the moment,” I say as the rest of the club walks over. “They’re coming home with you, Zep. I believe that. And you have to, too.”
His tears mix with mine from earlier, and my shirt is soaked. But I don’t mind. “It’s really fucking hard right now, Dixie.”
“Then I’ll believe it twice as hard for you,” I say. “So will Phoebe, and I don’t think there’s anything that woman can’t pull off with her positive vibes.”
“It’s true, man,” Pacino says, holding Phoebe close to his side. “We got you.”
My heart breaks seeing him in this much pain. It also shatters realizing no one would react this way for me. Penn and I are building something, but it’s still new. And fragile. He’d move on eventually, but poor Zep won’t.
“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you cleaned up,” Jolene says.
He slowly stands. “I’m sorry for ruining your shirt, Dixie.”
I look down to see the blood transferred from him to me, and I push down the panic. This isn’t a premonition of what’s to come.
Misty will be okay.
And so will I.
I have to believe that, or I might not be able to get out of bed again.