Chapter 24
Penn
The engine of my bike fills my ears as I ride around the highways and do everything I can to drive away the pain from earlier. Of finally seeing the man who knocked up Dixie and left her alone to raise their child.
The man who may or may not have tried to kill her.
The man she refused to tell me specifics about to handle in the way I do best.
But the worst part was watching her lead him outside and away from the people who have protected her since she lost everything. Having Dixie touch another man after we agreed we were together was worse than if she’d walked up and stabbed me right in the left nut.
Then she came back inside alone and couldn’t meet my eye. That’s when I knew everything I thought we had was about to be tossed out the window. No matter how much pleasure I gave her, or how secure I made sure she felt, it would never compare to the father of her child.
Her car sits in my driveway when I get home, and I wonder if she’s asleep. Is she in my bed or the guest room? If she’s in my bed, there might be hope. If she’s in the guest room, I’ll know exactly where we stand.
I step into the house, and she’s not asleep. She’s sitting on the couch with Princess in her lap, waiting for me.
“Penn, we need to talk,” Dixie says.
“What’s there to say?” I ask, kicking off my boots. “The guy who knocked you up and demanded you get an abortion showed up singing a different tune. He looks like he can give you the picket fence while I’m just a dirty biker.”
She frowns. “I never said that.”
“You took him outside and away from the rest of us. You talked in private, which tells me everything I need to know.”
Her jaw drops. “Because I didn’t want to have a private conversation in public, you know exactly what was said?”
“Let me guess and tell me where I’m wrong.
He changed his mind, and he wants you back.
He’s happy you didn’t get the abortion he demanded, and he’s really sorry about trying to kill you.
If I was a betting man, I’d say he claims to have already talked to a lawyer, and he’s leaving his wife.
He wants to be with you and have the life he promised you before admitting it was nothing but a lie,” I say, leaning against the wall. “Am I close?”
“Yeah, you’re pretty spot on,” she says, her eyes on the floor at my feet.
“Well, there you have it. You get what you wanted.”
“It’s not that simple.”
Snapping my fingers, I wait for her to look at me. “No, simple would have been telling him to fuck off back to his wife and family because you already have a man. A family. A life here that doesn’t involve him.”
“He’s the father of my child.”
“A child he didn’t want!” I shout and hold my hands up. “You know what, this isn’t my fight. You are going to do what you want to do, and I can’t stop you.”
“You can tell me how you feel.”
If she doesn’t know how I feel by now, she’s not paying attention. “This is about you and what you want, Dixie.”
“I don’t know what to do, Penn,” Dixie admits.
“My whole life has been a series of bad choices. Some my own and some not. He’s offering me everything I thought we would have when that test first read pregnant, and I don’t know what to believe.
I don’t know what’s real anymore, and I don’t know who to trust.”
Talk about a stab to the chest. I should just give her my gun and let her put a bullet in me. It’d hurt a hell of a lot less. “Even me?”
“Specifically me,” she says, her voice quiet. “I don’t know if I trust myself.”
“That makes two of us, I suppose,” I say. “If you don’t know that you can trust me by now, then I don’t know what we’re even doing.”
“Penn—”
“You should probably stay in the guest room again until you figure out what you want.”
Tears fill her eyes, and she rests a hand on her belly holding the son I feel in my heart is mine despite DNA. “I don’t want that.”
“I can’t sleep in the same bed with you and not touch you, Dixie, and if you are going to decide who you can trust, you need to do that without me clouding your thoughts. You gotta decide to trust yourself and what you feel.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she says, her voice cracking.
“Little late for that, babe,” I say and pick up Princess. “I’ll take care of her. You should try and get some sleep. It’s been a long night.”
Dixie doesn’t try to stop me as I bring the puppy outside, and she seems to understand something’s not right in our house. Princess has grown a good amount, and she’s going to be a big dog. A beautiful protector.
“I just hope you have a mom and baby to protect when this is all said and done,” I whisper as she finds her spot in the yard.
When we come back inside, Dixie’s in the guest room with the door shut. I rest a palm on it as I stop next to it, and I can’t believe how much pain I feel. My chest feels as though it could crack and shatter from the pressure I have from this whole situation.
I want to knock and tell her I don’t want her to go with that asshole. That I love her and want her to stay with me, but I need her to want to be here. To choose me because she loves me, too, and wants to build a family with me. Not because I’ve been her safe haven.
Letting out a long breath, I move to the room at the end of the hallway that’s been locked whenever Dixie’s home. I couldn’t let her see the surprise I’ve been planning since she questioned whether I truly want to help raise a child who isn’t mine.
I grab the key from the top of the doorframe and unlock the door.
Stepping inside, I shut the door and rest my back against it before flipping on the light.
My throat tightens as tears sting at my eyes while I look around at everything, anger flaring in my chest. Anger that will undoubtedly turn to grief soon.
It was supposed to be a surprise. I wanted to wait until we got closer to her due date, which was more like a week or two out than today, to show her what I’ve been working on. The proof that I love this child as much as I love her.
I walk into the room and reach out to touch the smooth sanded wood of the crib sitting against the wall.
Jethro and I worked on this together in his workshop, and we brought it into the house while Dixie worked one night so she wouldn’t see it.
I ran my hand over every inch to make sure there wasn’t a rough edge to be found.
I’d take the splinters over risking the baby finding them.
The walls are a muted blue—not quite pastel but not saturated, either.
It took me days to tape off the baseboards and ceiling without Dixie knowing what I was doing.
As we lay in bed one night after we found out she was having a boy, she said she imagined a blue nursery.
She’d never thought she’d be the type to go traditional in terms of colors, but she wants a blue room for her boy.
As I rolled each coat of paint over the drywall, I felt a calmness wash over me.
It looked peaceful and safe.
Now? Now, it looks like hell.
In the corner sits a heavy, wooden rocking chair that was a hideous shade of puke green when I bought it.
Jethro taught me how to strip off the peeling paint, sand, and refinish it.
I opted for a deep, rich walnut color, and I added plush blue cushions on the back and seat to make sure she’s comfortable during those early morning feedings.
It’s hard not to see her sitting there at two in the morning, a small bundle in a warm blanket in her arms. Feeding him from a body that miraculously nurtures a child as well as grows one.
When she’s working again, and has breast milk in the fridge to use, I planned to sit here with the baby in my arms, feeding him until he fell asleep. The small baby resting on my chest as we waited for the woman we both loved to return to us.
I walk over to the closet and pull the door open.
Inside, I shake my head at the shelves I put up to hold all of the packages of diapers next to the wipes and tiny little onesies.
All sizes to allow for him to grow into them.
I have little shoes, shirts, pants, and jackets.
Everything a baby needs to stay warm in the cooler months of winter.
I touch the soft cotton of one of the tiny shirts, and I almost smile at the absurdity of how small they are compared to my large hands.
That’s when the realization hits me, and I have to sit down.
I’ve already lost them. I’ve built a sanctuary for a family that isn’t mine.
For a woman who can stop looking over her shoulder and questioning how she’s going to make it on her own.
In the crib, I bought a stuffed German Shepherd. A miniature version of Princess to sleep with him and protect him. We were both just temporary stops for Dixie. Bodyguards and a safe house until the storm passed.
The thought of this Stephen guy having his hands on my woman, whispering sweet lies into her ear, and trying to give her half the amount of pleasure I gave her makes me want to vomit.
He can give her a world I can’t, and I can’t really fault her for wanting to be with the father of her child. I can fault her for so easily looking over the fact he may have tried to kill her, but this is her decision. I’ve given her everything I can to show her I’ll do anything she needs me to.
My chest aches so damn bad that it’s hard to take in a full breath.
I’d been so close to having everything I hadn’t dared to dream of until recently.
The urge to destroy everything and call it a day rests heavily on my heart, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
If I remove everything I’ve done, it’ll truly be over.
I’ll just keep this here, locked away, until Dixie decides for certain what she wants. Who she wants.
Then I’ll carry a sledgehammer in here and start demolishing everything. Make the room look like how my heart feels.