“He’s going to be okay,” he murmurs.
I start to sob. Full on crying, wailing, snot, the whole bit. I can’t help myself. It all comes in a rush of fear and relief and jubilation. Five little words—he’s going to be okay.
I lean forward and wrap my good arm around his shoulders, pressing my forehead against his neck as I cry, my whole body sagging in relief.
“When can I see him?” I ask, lifting my head.
“They only want one person at a time inside. You’re first up, darlin’,” he chuckles.
I don’t even try to act like he should go first. I’m selfish, so selfish, because I need to see that Max is okay. I need to touch him and just know—I need to know that I didn’t get him killed.
Fuck, I feel like I’m on the verge of death. I crack an eye open and see a fall of black hair draped on my arm, then I feel something wet on my hand. I wiggle my fingers and Mary’s head pops up, her eyes rimmed with red and her cheeks wet.
“Oh, my god, you’re awake,” she breathes.
“Yeah, sweetness,” I grunt.
Then it all comes back to me. The gunshots, the pain, me shooting and hitting Mary. My eyes move to the side and see that she’s in a sling.
I shot her.
I fucking shot her.
“I’m okay, baby, I’m okay,” she whispers when she notices my eyes fixated on her arm. “I wasn’t even in for a full twenty-four hours. I’m fine.”
I don’t speak. I don’t know how she ended up here. That fucker had a gun and was breathing just fine when I went down. But I do know that I’m not going to ask her. In fact, she needs to get away from me.
I fucking brought this to her, shit that wasn’t even part of the club, shit that wasn’t a necessity. I killed Kyle for fun, because he was a douche who had hurt her in the past, but he wasn’t going to hurt her again, not with me at her side.
“Is Pierce here?” I ask.
She rears her head back slightly and then jerks it in a nod. Without a word, or even a look back at me she walks away. I watch her. She’s dressed in ill-fitting scrubs and she’s not wearing shoes, proving yet again just how fucked up all of this is.
A few minutes later, a nurse comes in and checks all my vitals, machines, tubes, and shit before my son, Fury, walks through the door.
“Okay, Mr. Duhart, everything is good. A doctor will be by to check your chart and talk to you in a bit,” the nurse informs me before she walks away, leaving me with my son.
“There a reason Kentlee is holding onto Mary-Anne, who is inconsolable at the moment, while you’re awake and breathing?” he asks.
My son. No bullshit, not an ounce—just like his old man.
“If you tell me some fucked up shit that is really just you pushing her away because you’re a pussy, I don’t wanna hear it,” he remarks before I can even speak a single word.
“It doesn’t matter,” I grunt, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Then you don’t deserve her,” he says before he turns and walks away from me.
The doctor comes in and talks about my injuries, how he worked on me for over ten hours and wasn’t sure if I’d make it. He tells me how lucky I am to be alive, and then says that I’ll be under supervision for the next four days before I can go home. I try to listen to every word, but I can’t.
My mind is stuck on Mary-Anne and how downright fucking cruel I was to her. She didn’t deserve that sort of treatment; she didn’t deserve Kyle’s or his dad’s, either. But I’m supposed to love her, and I was a fucking—
“You dick,” Kentlee shouts, walking into the room.
My eyes widen, surprised at her words, and yet not. I was just going to think of myself the exact same way.
“She loves you. She fought for you with her brother. And when you went down, she fucking fought for you. Do you even know what she’s been through today? Do you even fucking care? I am so sick of you Duhart men thinking that you know what’s best for the women in your lives. You know what? You don’t know, not at all. You’re nothing but big ass cavemen who can’t think complex thoughts. You both fucking piss me off,” she screeches.
“Kent, baby girl,” Pierce says behind her.
“No, don’t you dare. You tried this same fucking shit with me. Somebody needs to beat you dudes over the head.”
Her chest is heaving with her breath, and I can’t help myself. The little thing is so fucking worked up, she’s adorable. No wonder my son ran after her the second he saw her and then kept her. I throw back my head in laughter, but it’s the wrong move. It makes me groan in pain.
“Oh, shit, are you okay?” Kentlee, asks running to my side.
“I’m fine,” I moan.
“You’re a dick,” she grunts before she walks over to the couch and sits down. “I cannot believe you made her cry. Bates was two seconds away from busting through the door and beating the shit out of you in that bed. The guys had to drag him away and make Brentlee take him. The only way he would go was if Mary-Anne went with him. They’re staying at your house tonight, by the way,” my daughter-in-law informs me as she rattles away.
I’m still stuck on the part where I made Mary-Anne cry.
Fuck, I am a dick.
“How’d she get away from that guy? Kyle’s father?” I ask, turning to my son for information.
“She didn’t tell you what happened?” Kentlee asks on a gasp.
“Baby girl, how about you let me tell him?” Fury asks, his control slipping. It almost makes me laugh.
“No, no way in hell. I’m telling your dad what a giant dick he is, and I’m telling him the story,” she announces.
I nod for her to continue, not giving a fuck who tells me as long as somebody does. Then Kentlee tells me the story, every last detail, and I close my eyes. I am a giant dick. She fought, truly fought, to save—to save us, and I turned her away without even letting her speak.
Christ.
“Bates told me—he told me something else. I wasn’t going to tell you, because—.”
“I’m a giant dick. I get it, darlin’. I feel it down to my bones,” I inform her before I watch as her face softens on me. “Are you going to apologize to her?”
“I’ll talk to her,” I grunt, not willing to apologize. That ain’t me.
“But are you going to get her back? Is everything going to be good between you?” she asks, eyeing me warily.
“Yeah,” I admit.
I’m getting slightly impatient with her, because she’s trying to tell me something obviously important, but she keeps fucking stalling.
“She’s pregnant,” Kentlee whispers. My eyes widen in surprise.
“Then it ain’t mine,” I grind out as the anger rises.
“Of course, it is. Who else’s would it be?” she asks with wide eyes.
“Pops,” Pierce warns. I shake my head.
“She was protected until just a few weeks ago,” I explain.
“Trust me, it doesn’t always work,” Kentlee mumbles, looking at Fury who grins.
“Don’t—just promise me you won’t do anything stupid,” Kentlee begs.
I look at her, not committing because this baby isn’t mine. My woman is pregnant, and it ain’t fuckin’ mine.
They leave a little while later, failing to convince me that this baby Mary is carrying is mine, and tell me that they’ll be back the next day. I nod and lie back, closing my eyes and hoping for some sleep.
Pregnant.
She’s pregnant with that fuckhead’s baby.
She tried to kill a man, taking his eyeballs out for me, and she’s carrying another man’s child. Can I accept that? It’s not as if Kyle is coming back. It’s not as if his father is going to do anything but probably exist, for the rest of his blind life.
It isn’t an easy decision. I love Mary, I do. I marked her with my name, and I claimed her, but raising another man’s child? Watching her grow with a piece of him inside of her, instead of me? I don’t know if I can do that.
I do
n’t know if I can love that child and accept it, either. It’s not like a step-child, a child that’s born and you fall in love with it; it’s not like an adopted child that you want and take the steps to get.
It would be watching the woman I love carry and bring a child into the world, a child that isn’t mine.
“You’re a special kind of asshole. I thought you were better than all this shit,” Sniper says from the dark doorway.
I didn’t even hear him walk in and close the door behind him. I don’t speak. I just wait. Obviously, he’s in a mood, and I’ve hurt his sister—deeply.
“You know she’s pregnant?” he asks. I nod. “You care at all? Or are you just going to toss her aside?”
“I care.” I state.
“But…”
“It ain’t mine,” I grind out.
“Stella ain’t mine by blood, but that child is my daughter. You’re a pussy,” Bates growls.
“True, Stella might not be yours, but you didn’t have to watch the woman you love carry another man’s baby, lie next to her and watch her body change because of another man.”
“Oh, fuck, let me find the world’s smallest violin for your precious ego,” he laughs humorously. “Grow the fuck up. You have until you’re released from the hospital. You don’t figure your shit out, then I’m taking my sister back to Idaho with me.”
Bates doesn’t say anything else before he storms out of my room, leaving me with my thoughts all over again. Stupid, selfish thoughts.
I’m a fucking asshole, I decide before my exhaustion takes over and I fall asleep.
It’s been four days since I’ve laid eyes on Maxfield. I try not to think about the way he acted only moments after he opened his eyes. I try, but I fail—miserably.
I saw the blank expressionless face he aimed at me. I knew he didn’t want me around anymore, so I left with zero fight. I could tell that there was no point to it, not by the blank look in his eyes. Then he asked for Fury, so I just walked away.
I’m tired of fighting, so damn tired.
“Mary-Anne, you up?” I hear Bates’ voice bellow down the hallway.
I smooth down my dress and look at myself in the mirror. My face is makeup free, my hair long and straight, and my dress is a simple, short-sleeved cotton, navy blue sundress that hits right above my knees.
I look back at the bed and see an open suitcase, my clothes spilling out of it, ready to be closed up for the twelve-hour drive back to Idaho.
My fight is gone.
The push and pull of Max, the way he completely owns me, the way he makes me feel only to turn away from me when I need him the most; the way he talked me into having a baby, the way he made what was scary and almost unrealistic to me become a dream, only to practically scream that he didn’t want me anymore? No, he didn’t say the words, but he made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t want me. And now, I’m having his baby and I’m going to have to do it alone.
“You sure this is what you want?” Bates asks, standing against the doorframe.
“I’m not sure I have a choice,” I whisper as I close my bag and begin to zip it up.
“You haven’t even talked to him,” he mentions.
“I think he made things perfectly clear,” I snort.
“Mary-Anne,” Bates sighs. I turn to him.
My brother looks worried. I’m not used to that with him. He’s always been so strong, never showing his emotions, but now he’s a husband and a father. Though still the strongest man I know, he now has a softer, gentler side that I’ve never truly been exposed to before. It looks good on him, too.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Have you told him?” he asks, looking at my belly.
“Have you?” I counter, arching a brow.
I don’t miss the wince. He has told him, and it didn’t go well. I’m not sure I even want to know what happened, what was said. No, I know that I don’t want to know. Maxfield will just be this memory to me; this one time I completely and totally followed my heart and didn’t think about any consequences.
I knew going into it that what we had would eventually blow up in my face. As the weeks went on, I had hoped that what we had was real, that his words weren’t just empty promises, and that we would last, but life isn’t like that; it doesn’t always work out the way you hope for it to.
“I’ll be fine, Bates. I’ll have this baby, and my brother and sister-in-law, nieces and nephews, and the baby’s big brother. You will all be around him or her. So much love and family, not including all of the aunts and uncles that wear the Notorious Devils patch. Everything will be just fine,” I smile brightly.
Bates doesn’t say anything. Instead, he walks over to the bed and grabs my suitcase before he walks out of the room and down the stairs. We’re leaving in an hour.
Now that Max is safe, most of the guys are headed back to Idaho. Fury and Kentlee are going to stay and help Max get settled, make sure that he’s healthy enough to live alone, and just take care of him in general. My heart aches, because I want to take care of him. It’s almost a need more than a want.
I walk into the kitchen and grab a glass, filling it with orange juice before I make myself a piece of toast. Breakfast isn’t normally something I really eat, but with the baby, I figure I need to actually consume something before lunch.
I haven’t had any morning sickness yet, but Brentlee told me that hers came around six weeks and lasted for just as long. I really hope I’m not sick for six whole weeks. That would be awful.
“I’m gonna start loading the car up,” Bates announces as I take my last bite of toast.
I clean up the kitchen, putting everything back in its place, and then look around. I’m going to miss it. I’m going to miss everything that I picked out with the girls. I’m going to miss the girls, even bitchy Genny.
I let out a heavy sigh before I turn off the light and walk out of the room and into the living room.
My breath hitches when my eyes clash with the blue eyes of Maxfield, who is standing in the middle of the room.
“You’re leaving,” he announces.
I nod, unsure of what to say, but unable to speak at the same time. He looks tired, so fucking tired, and older because of it. He needs some rest, and I can tell by the way he’s holding his body that it hurts for him to stand there. I’m sure that Fury and Kentlee are outside, giving us some privacy, but I only have eyes for, Max.
“Good,” he whispers.
My eyes widen and my lips tremble before I press them together. I know he notices, because he stares at them for a beat before he focuses on my eyes again.
“Good?” I finally ask.
“Yeah. It’ll be good for you to raise that kid around what family it has left,” he grunts.
My eyes widen at his implications. I don’t miss that fact that he doesn’t believe he’s part of this baby’s family—that he is not the father. The fucking jackass.
I don’t realize we have an audience when I walk up to him and reach back, slapping him across the face with all of my strength. The people watching suck in breaths, or gasp, but I’m too busy staring at the man I love with hatred and disgust.
“Fuck you,” I whisper. “Our baby will be raised with a beautiful family—everybody in its family except for its piece of shit father, which is you, by the way, you jackass,” I say as I skirt to the side and walk away.
“I’m ready to go,” I say, looking up to my brother, who is standing at the doorway with an emotion akin to pride plastered on his face.
He nods at me once, and looks up to Fury before he nods again. Then we walk out to their SUV. The kids are already loaded up, along with all of our luggage. I don’t look back, not once, not even when everything is screaming inside of me to take one more look at the little white house—my little white house, painted and remodeled just for me, just so I would be comfortable inside of it.
I close my eyes and lie down in the third seat of the car, thankful to be in the back, away from everybody else
. I just need to be alone for a while. I just need to sleep. I just need to try and hold myself together. Later, when I’m alone, I can break completely apart—I can shatter.
I watch her go.
Like a fucking fool and a coward, I watch her go.
Pregnant with my baby, I watch my family walk out of my house, and I don’t say a goddamn word about it.
I turn around after the SUV is out of view and look into the disappointed and angry eyes of my son and daughter-in-law. I wait for Kentlee to call me a dick again, to scream and yell, but she doesn’t. She turns around and walks into the house, leaving me on the front porch with my son.
“Here I thought that I was the biggest fuckup between the two of us, spending three years in prison, avoiding my woman,” he says with a humorless chuckle.
I don’t reply. I don’t know what to say. I just fucked up in a way that I don’t know how I’ll ever fix.
“You need to get your head on straight, Pops. It was you who told me to get my shit together with Kent all those years ago. It was you who told me what a good woman I had, a woman who could be at my side. It was you who told me how you regretted things in your past. Mary-Anne is your Kentlee; she’s your other half. I know you loved mom, but there’s something bigger at play when you’re with Mary.”
I nod in agreement. Mary-Anne is special. I’ve never felt the way I feel about her with another woman, not even Eleanora. And that, that makes me feel fucking guilty as shit.
“Mom would want you to be happy,” my son murmurs.
“Not as happy as Mary makes me. Not happier than I was with her,” I grunt.
“Fuck that. You know she would.”
I reach into my back pocket and pull out my wallet. Then I take out the picture that Mary found a couple weeks ago, and I unfold it to look at it. Eleanora and me when we were fuckin’ kids, not even eighteen years old, and Pierce in her belly. I should have been blissfully happy, but I can see the fear in my eyes—the uncertainty.
“I was such a fuckin’ punk asshole back then,” I chuckle.
Rough & Ruthless (Notorious Devils #4) Page 21