by A. R. Breck
“What’s the job?” Easton, as always, cuts right to the chase.
“The Seven.”
My eyes give away my shock. What?
The Seven are part of a motorcycle club based out in California. We have a good relationship with them. They were out here a month ago, so I’m not quite sure what’s going on now.
“What about them? They were just here.” Easton steps forward and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Nothing bad. Lynx called me the other day, said he’s doing a deal with Mexico and wondering if we can help out.” Lynx is head of the Seven. I’ve only met him a few times, but I can tell he’s a good guy. But, he’s also a crazy motherfucker.
“And you want me to go out there and help with the deal?” Easton cocks his head, understandably. We don’t ever handle deals like this. We stick close to home and usually deal with the messes, not helping others. I’m just as confused as he is.
“Both of you. Only you guys. I think it’ll be good for both of you. Get away from here for a bit and get to work without one of us breathing over your shoulder.” Ahh, so this shit is a test to see if we’re capable of taking over the business.
“Hugo going?” I speak up. Hugo’s almost always there when we’re working on a deal. I love the guy, but at the end of the day he’s our babysitter. There to make sure we don’t fuck up.
“No. Not this time.”
Shit.
“When are we leaving?” A lilt of excitement lifts in Easton’s voice, and I know he’s excited. I can’t deny that I’m excited, too. Not only do I get to go back to work, I’ve seriously never been anywhere except Minnesota, Iowa, Wisconsin and Illinois. I get to go see the ocean.
Fuck, I get to go see the ocean. I get to get out of my house. I get to get away from my dad.
My smile drops. Shit. What about Cara? Fuck, she’s having a baby.
“Not for a few weeks yet. They’re still sorting some things out, but they’re thinking sometime in the next month or two.” Rich stands up and wipes his hand down his flawless suit. “I’ll let you know when I hear more.” He reaches his hand out to shake hands with Easton, like they’re business partners instead of father and son. He shakes hands with me afterwards, and then that’s it.
Just like that, we’ve been dismissed.
9
Cara
4 months pregnant
“Shit. No.” I rip the skimpy tank top over my head and toss it on the ground with the seven other shirts I’ve tried on.
Seriously, for a pregnant girl I have the worst wardrobe. I guess I can’t blame myself, because I’m trying my hardest to hide the bump that is most definitely visible at this point, and for the life of me I can’t find one damn loose shirt in my damn room. I mean, I can’t very well wear a hoodie in the dead of summer. It’s hotter than shit outside and I’ll have a heat stroke in five minutes flat. Usually I can be burrowed in sweats in the summer, but these pregnancy hormones have me sweating constantly.
On any other day I wouldn’t worry about what I’m wearing, but today is my first doctor appointment. I’m worried someone is going to see me and be like—oh yeah, there’s Cara. No doubt she got pregnant and is going to end up like every other whore here in The Grove. Probably be a slut like her Mama.
Yeah, I don’t give a fuck if someone talks about me, but my hormones do. If I’m out and about and someone talks about me and I start crying? Shit, I don’t even want to imagine it.
These last couple week I’ve been holed up in my house, not wanting to go anywhere and honestly, I’ve been so damn exhausted I haven’t had the energy. I’m not sure if it’s pregnancy or I’m mentally drained, or what. I received some papers from the adoption agency, and I opened it up once and instantly felt sick to my stomach. I threw them on my kitchen table and haven’t looked at them since.
Rose has been keeping me company, coming over almost every day and hanging out.
Jackson on the other hand… it’s been awkward. He’s come over a couple times, but mostly he’s just been texting me. The same text. Over and over again.
Jackson: How you doin’?
Me: Fine, you?
No response.
Jackson: How you doin’?
Me: Okay… you?
No response.
It’s like he needs to know I’m doing okay. But if that’s the case, why can’t he just come over and talk to me?
I’m fucking lonely.
Even though I hate that I’m going out where people I know might see me, I’m so excited to be leaving the house.
“Hello?” I hear my front door creak open, and I quickly throw on one of the shirts from the pile. It’s the loosest one, but still doesn’t come close to covering my baby bump in the slightest. Of course, all of my summer tanks are skintight, and now that I’ve gained weight, it shows off every curve. This black tank top, paired with black shorts can hopefully conceal the few pounds I’ve gained these past couple months.
“Yeah.” I grab a hoodie and throw it over my arm—just in case—and leave my room.
“Are you—holy shit. Look at that little baby bump!” Pure joy covers Rose’s face when her eyes zone in on my baby bump. “I didn’t know you were showing like this! It’s so cute!” She starts walking over from the front door with her arms extended like she’s going to rub her hands all over my stomach.
I turn to the side and block my stomach with my forearm. “Don’t. Please.” Rose stops in her tracks and her face falls. “Let’s just go, okay?” I plead.
I’m getting that feeling in my head that I’ve been having lately anytime I think about the baby. It’s like some niggling stop sign starts blaring in the back of my head. Something in my brain is trying to tell me something, but before I know what that something is, I block it out and change course.
Just like now.
Rose frowns and opens her mouth like she’s going to say something, then stops. “Okay, come on.” She opens the front door and I follow out behind her.
Well, shit. Now I feel bad.
I hop into the passenger seat of Rose’s car and turn to her. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been a wreck all morning. I’m feeling a little… self-conscious or whatever you want to call it now that I’m showing. Maybe embarrassed. I don’t know, but when you started fawning all over my stomach, I just couldn’t take it. So, yeah. Sorry if I was a bitch.”
“Yeah, you were kind of a bitch. But I’m used to it by now.” Rose says, a slow smile filling her cheeks.
I push her in the arm. “Shut up, asshole. Come on, let’s go.”
Rose turns the key over when a hulking figure comes into view. There stands Jackson in grey sweatpants and no shirt. I swear the fucker isn’t wearing any underwear. His pants are hanging so low around his lips it makes my mouth go dry. His abs are all on display and it makes me turned on even when I have no desire to be turned on by this asshole.
A confused crease shows up between his eyes. He bends down, and his muscles flex along his shoulders and back as he knocks on my window.
I look at Rose, and all she does is lift her eyebrows at me.
“Ugh.” I roll down my window and frown at the man in front of me. “What?”
“Where you goin’?” He murmurs.
“To the clinic.”
He staring at my noticeable bump, but his eyes fly to mine as he growls, “The clinic? What the fuck, Cara? You said you weren’t going to get an abortion.” My eyebrows shoot up in confusion until realization hits.
“I’m not going to get a fucking abortion. I have a doctor appointment. You know… to check on the baby.” My cheeks turn bright red.
He stands there and stares at me for a few minutes. Thinking. Contemplating. Then he says, “Hold on. Stay here.”
He jogs inside Easton’s house, which just confuses me even further.
I look over at Rose. “What the hell?”
She shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
A minute later, Jackson jogs outside with a
t-shirt on and keys in hand. He goes over to Easton’s truck. “Let’s go. I’m driving.”
I frown and say. “Um, Rose is taking me.”
He shakes his head. “No. I am. Come on.”
I look at Rose again. “What do you want to do?” She asks.
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
She bites on her lip. “Whatever you want to do, I’ll stick behind you. But I think if the father wants to be included in the appointment, he should be.”
I frown. “He ignored me for a month when he found out I was pregnant. The last few weeks he’s barely spoken to me. What… he gets to be involved when he wants? Fuck that. That’s not how life works.”
Rose stares at him. “He’s a dick, don’t get me wrong. But he’s also an eighteen-year-old dick. He’s still partly a child, Cara. Maybe he just needs time to get used to the idea.”
“Idea of what? I’m giving the baby up. It’s not like he’s going to have to take care of it. And why does he get time to get used to the idea, but I don’t? Fuck, who’s side are you on?”
“Yours! I’m on your side, Cara. I’m just also able to look at it from his side. Look at him, Cara. Really look at him. He looks fucked. Not like his usual creepy psychopath self. He looks like… scared or something. I don’t know. I feel kind of bad for the guy.”
I look at Jackson—really look at him. He’s staring at me with something in his eyes I’ve never seen before. The Jackson usually displayed to the world is one that holds the secrets between a locked door that doesn’t have a key. Never to be opened. The Jackson that I’ve been with alone has let down that wall but only in pieces, I’ve never seen anything that he hasn’t wanted to show me. This Jackson standing outside… there’s a manic look in his eyes. Panic and unrest and so many emotions that make my already flipping stomach tumble over the mountain.
There’s just something in his eyes that makes me turn to Rose and say, “I’ll call you later.”
She smiles at me, “Sounds good.”
I open up the door and walk over to Jackson. “Easton’s okay with you driving his truck?”
“Yeah.” He opens up the passenger door for me, keeping an eye on my stomach as I enter the truck. I’m barely paying attention to his gaze though, more so paying attention to the fact that Jackson opened the door for me.
Jackson opened the fucking door for me.
“Um, thanks.” I pull the shirt away from my stomach to stretch It out, but it does nothing. Jackson gives me a look as he shuts the door, and my lungs constrict. What was that look?
Longing? Sadness?
I grip my stomach as nausea hits me. I’m not sure how many emotions I can take when it comes to Jackson. I’d rather have him be emotionless dick instead of showing an inkling of caring towards me. That scares me.
He pulled me in before when I was already broken from Logan. He healed me up and brought me back to the living. Then he lit a fire to my soul and watched it burn to flames.
I can’t go through it again.
Jackson hops in and pulls the shirt over his head. Turning on the truck, he pulls out of the park before turning towards me. “So, where we goin’?”
I rattle off the address, and he nods his head.
My knee bobs as nerves hit me.
What if there’s something wrong with the baby? What if Jackson starts freaking out at the doctor? What if I start freaking out at the doctor?
There’s a million things that can go wrong today, and it didn’t hit me until now.
Jackson doesn’t talk much on the way to the clinic. I think I’m happy about that. Not sure what I’d do if he suddenly wanted to sprout an entire conversation.
Jackson parks the truck and turns to me. “Have you thought about it anymore?”
Confusion floods me. “Thought about what?”
His eyes flicker to my stomach. “You know, keeping the baby.”
I sigh as I reach for the door handle. “There’s nothing to think about. I’m not keeping the baby, Jax. You know that.”
I open up the door, ready to get out of this conversation when he grabs onto my forearm to stop me. He points to my stomach. “You’re not giving up our kid.” His tone is so flat and sure of himself, like he has no doubt in his mind I’m going to do what he says.
I grab his hand and pry it off my forearm. “It’s not your fucking choice. I can’t have this baby. It’s the right thing to do. Trust me, there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to give up my own child, but I have to. Please respect that.”
“If you don’t want to give up the baby, then don’t. Let me help you.” He pleads, the urgency dripping from his voice.
I immediately grow suspicious.
“Why do you want this baby so bad? It’s only going to bring you down. Get in your way of taking over the business and The Pit and all that…”
“If someone told you they were having your baby, but you couldn’t keep it, how would you feel? If you really wanted something—that was yours no less—but you couldn’t have it?”
I get it. I really do, but that doesn’t change the situation I’m in. I refuse to be the trailer trash slut everyone thinks I am. The person my mom thinks I am. Jackson will have some honeymoon stage with the baby, but he’ll eventually get sick of it. Like my dad. I wouldn’t blame Jackson. We’re still young, and kids are a lot of work. That’s a lot of fucking responsibility to put on someone.
And a baby with Jackson? Someone who doesn’t fucking speak half of the time. One of the biggest assholes in the world, hands down.
“I understand, Jax, but the answer is still no. Now please, I have to go or I’m going to miss my appointment. If you still want to fight me on this, don’t even worry about coming inside. I’ll meet you back in the truck.” I hop out this time without looking back.
I check in at the front desk and take a seat. My stomach flips again as I sit down and try to swallow down the lump in my throat. I hate that Jackson had to bring up the adoption right before the appointment. Of course, I don’t want to give my baby up for adoption!
A shadow falls over me, and when I look up, I see Jackson staring down at me with a furrowed eyebrow. I stare at him, waiting to see what he decides to do.
He walks to the side and sits in the chair beside me. Reaching down, he grabs onto my hand curled in my lap and laces his fingers through mine. My heart stops as I lift my eyes to his. He stares at me, and the waves of electricity between us makes my entire body heat.
I look away when it gets to be too much and stare at the floor.
What’s going on between us?
“Cara Aarons?” Comes a voice from the other side of the room. I look up and see a nurse in light blue scrubs standing there with a clip board in hand.
We both stand up, and I go to pull my hand out of Jackson’s, but he only grips my hand harder. I lift my eyebrows up at him and wait for him to let go.
He lifts his eyebrows back at me. He looks so handsome, standing there with his dark features against flawless skin. He’s a predator, probably the most dangerous of everyone around him. No one believes he’s a threat because of his silence, but his silence is what makes him the deadliest of them all.
I glance over at the nurse and see she has an impatient look on her face. I growl under my breath and start walking towards the nurse—holding Jackson’s fucking hand.
“Cara?” The nurse asks.
“Yes.”
“Follow me, please.” She gives me a small smile and glances at Jackson. Her smile drops and her eyes flash with a lick of fear when she sees his guarded look. I wrinkle my nose and look up at Jackson. His face is blank again with the faintest of scowls plastered across it. Unease flows through me like a tidal wave.
I clear my throat, and the nurse looks back at me. Smile back in place, she lifts her hand towards the scale. “If you would please come stand on the scale so we can get a current weight.”
“Turn around.” I say to Jackson. He stares at me and says nothing. “
Turn around.” I whisper at him through gritted teeth. Embarrassment bubbles in my stomach. Why the hell did I allow him to come with me?
He takes a deep breath but listens, turning around and giving me his back. His body is tense, and I watch as his muscles contract beneath his shirt, his uncomfortableness showing in his rigid form.
I get up on the scale and cringe. I avert my eyes to the ground because watching as the nurse writes down the number is about as comfortable as flaunting my baby bump.
Jackson turns around and I hop off the scale. He stares into my eyes and tries to have a conversation with me. I stare at him as we follow the nurse into a nearby room, trying to decipher what he’s trying to tell me. It’s nerve wrecking, watching as the array of emotions flash through his eyes with each blink.
Nervousness.
Blink.
Anger.
Blink.
Excitement.
Blink.
Possessiveness.
Blink.
“Cara, if you can take seat in the chair closest to the desk here.” I tear my eyes away from the story of Jackson’s dark gaze and sit in the nearby chair. She takes my vitals and starts asking me about a million questions. My mind starts spinning as she asks me about family history, questions about my period, and safety in my home.
Jackson sits still as stone next to me, and if possible, gets more tense as the questions go on.
“And I apologize, is this the father next to you?” The nurse questions.
I whip my eyes to Jackson and see him clenching the armrests of the chair so tightly his knuckles turn white. My mouth goes dry as I remember Jackson questioning me being the father. I have a feeling deep in my gut about Jackson being the father. I know without a doubt that the DNA that runs through this child is from Jackson.