Making Choices (Black Shamrocks MC Book 2)

by Kylie Hillman

  “What the fuck?” Mad Dog questions Lucas over Maddi’s sobbing head.

  I watch as Lucas’s face falls, and his eyes gleam with unshed tears.

  “Joel’s overdosed. We need to get to the hospital. She wouldn’t go without you.”

  “Joel? Not Benji?” Mad Dog questions him hotly.

  I don’t understand his terse question, but Lucas does.

  “Definitely Joel. It looks like the little fucker tried to kill himself with pain meds and sleeping pills. Benji found him. He’s alive, for now—”

  I gasp when Maddi wails at his words. The heartbroken sound tugs at my heart as it fills my home. I’ve never seen anyone so distraught—not even family members who I’ve given the ultimate bad news to at the hospital have reacted like this. Her pain is palpable, almost dense enough to touch.

  Scooping his hysterical woman into his arms, Mad Dog barks orders, “Let’s go. Now! I’ll take her in the car. She’s not fit for your bike. You coming with us, or riding?”

  He directs his last question at me, surprise coloring my cheeks at being included in their family drama.

  “She’s riding with me,” Lucas cuts in.

  I haven’t looked at him since his unexpected arrival, the contrition that took hold of me during Mad Dog’s story making it impossible for me to do so without bursting into tears or apologies.

  Mustering all of my courage, I force myself to meet his eyes. I’m pleasantly shocked by the lack of anger and frustration I find in their light blue depths.

  “If you want me to,” I answer his stark pronouncement.

  Holding out a hand for me, he grants me a small smile when I take it without hesitation. He picks up Maddi’s discarded helmet, grabbing my keys from the hallstand as we follow the other two outside. Mad Dog ignores us as he strides toward Maddi’s car, cradling her to his chest like she’s the most precious object in the world. It’s just as well he used it to bring me home. I don’t even need to examine Maddi to diagnose her with neurogenic shock. Her wailing has stopped, her face blank, her eyes unseeing. There is no way she could handle being on the back of a bike at the moment.

  “We’ll meet you at the hospital,” Lucas shouts after them as he tugs me in the direction of his bike. Mad Dog’s only answer is a grunt of acknowledgement as he slams the passenger door shut, jogging quickly around the front of the car, and throwing himself in the driver’s seat.

  Wheels squealing, he drives off at high speed. We quickly fasten our helmets and follow after them.

  With my arms wrapped around Lucas’s waist, and my body pressed hard against his muscled back, I feel better than I have in days. The abandoned retelling of his sad history floats around my mind as we weave in and out of the late night traffic.

  Once I know that Joel is okay, it’s my mission to learn the rest of the story from Lucas himself.

  JJ

  Present Day

  One thing the Shamrocks know how to do is rally around each other during an emergency.

  I noticed before when Joel was shot, and again earlier today, but what’s really cemented that observation, is the love and worry saturating the atmosphere of the waiting room as we all wait for the latest news on Joel.

  A loving rub of an arm as they pass each other, a small smile when you glance in their direction, a hug when someone is overcome with tears—every gesture is followed by matching words designed to soothe and pull everyone together. A true family is what they are, unlike mine who’d be spending this time pointing fingers, and arguing about who this affects the most.

  The revelation saddens me. I never understood just how much my family was lacking until I spent time around the Shamrocks.

  “You holding up okay, Doll?” Lucas nudges me from the seat next to me.

  I smile at him as I nod, happy that we’ve found a small piece of tranquility together after the craziness of the previous twenty-four hours. He hasn’t left my side since we arrived over an hour ago, holding my hand, his thumb moving back and forth over my knuckles.

  “We should get you something to eat. Gotta keep up your strength for the—”

  My smile falls from my face, causing him to trail off.

  “What did I say?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Shit, JJ. What do you want from me?” Lucas pushes to his feet, holding his hand out for me as he does. “Come on. Let’s walk and talk.”

  Staring at his hand, I weigh up my options.

  Stay here and argue in front of everyone, or go for a walk and run the risk of my father or colleagues seeing us together?

  Colleen’s beseeching eyes make the decision for me.

  A walk, it is.

  We walk, hand in hand, through the hospital in silence.

  As is his way, he holds every door open for me.

  He lets me through each entryway first.

  He lets me in front of him when we pass people.

  I know I should be worried about being seen with him, but I can’t bring myself to pull my hand from his.

  This has been my problem throughout the last six months.

  Common sense says that I should run from Lucas as fast as I can, however every emotion that consumes me wants the exact opposite. My mind calls for our separation—even some distance would be preferable—while my body wants our individual molecules to find a way to meld together so we can create an entirely new being comprised perfectly of our essence.

  A perfect melding of our souls, you could say.

  My mind performs a backflip at my ridiculous thought.

  Shit. I just described pregnancy, almost exactly.

  I’ve heard the saying “the penny drops” a million times before. I just never appreciated it’s connotation until now.

  What I’m currently experiencing is the saying in action.

  A divination of fact.

  Truth in motion.

  An epiphany.

  Vividly, a vision of Lucas and I watching a toddler with strawberry blonde hair as she toddles across a lush lawn chasing a puppy flashes before me. She’s so beautiful and innocent; a perfect blend of the two of us. My heart swells in my chest. I want to reach out and touch her.

  I want to keep her.

  “Lucas.” Letting go of his hand as we make our way through the automatic doors that lead to the hospital’s garden, I skip backward so I can face him. Excitement at sharing my revelation with him overwhelms me. “I know this is going to sound stupid, but—”

  “Juliette Jane Patrice.” My father’s voice interrupts my happy moment. “Explain why you missed our meeting this morning? Where have you been?”

  Damn him to hell.

  Why does he need to be here now?

  Searching Lucas’s face to gauge how he’s going to react, my stomach drops into my shoes when I glimpse animosity all over his face. His eyes are guarded, his lips pressed tightly together, his shoulders ramrod straight.

  This isn’t going to go well.

  “You can also explain why you are dressed in such an appalling manner.” My mother’s cultured voice adds her own question to the list my father just shot at me.

  Dragging my eyes from Lucas’s face, I force myself to confront my parents.

  Their terse questions hang in the air and I feel myself deflate, the resolve I gained from my epiphany virtually shattered.

  My father has his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes boring into mine as he wordlessly demands that I answer him. My mother, conversely, is running her eyes over Lucas in a manner that suggests if she was to be struck blind at this precise point in time, she’d be happy to have him as her last vision. My father grunts when he notices her preoccupation, his eyes leaving mine and only returning once my mother has moved her attention to me and slipped her hand into his.

  He intertwines their fingers, grasping her hand, and pulling her closer to him.

  Once her fake smile is locked in place, I conclude that the Patrice Perfect Parenting Show is now in session.

  “Juliette. Answer
me.”

  “Ah, Daddy. I mean, uh, Dad,” I correct myself when Lucas coughs to cover his chuckle. I’m not fooled by his attempt to conceal his mirth. He’s made his feelings known many times about how I address my father. This time, for some bizarre reason, his amusement doesn’t annoy me.

  It strengthens me.

  Remembering the brief vision that flashed before my eyes before their interruption, I regard my parents with as much poise as I can find.

  “I was sick this morning so I was unable to attend our meeting. Once I felt better, I...”

  “A phone call would have been appreciated, young lady.”

  My father’s eyes have not strayed toward Lucas.

  He hasn’t acknowledged him at all in what I’m certain is a deliberate snub.

  “That goes both ways, doesn’t it? Wouldn’t a concerned parent such as yourself call their daughter if she wasn’t at a meeting without giving a reason? Or even go to their house to check?” Lucas cuts into the conversation. “Especially a daughter like JJ, who’d have a fucking good reason for not being at work.”

  My mother gasps at his profanity, shrinking away from him as if he’s stuck her.

  “I’m sorry.” My father’s tone is incongruous, since he sounds anything but apologetic. “Who are you to comment on our family matter?”

  This is about to go to hell in a hand basket.

  My hands begin sweating, my heart pounding, as the customary fear I’ve felt for as long as I can remember at my father’s bad moods starts to claw its way up my throat. The churning in my stomach kicks up a notch as I brace myself for my father’s impending explosion. Lucas isn’t going to let a direct attack pass, and that’s going to set my father off.

  “I’m JJ’s—” Lucas looks down at me, a strange glint in his eye.

  His face falls when he perceives my panic.

  “What? You’re JJ’s what?” my mother speaks up, sounding excited to ask the question. I’d hazard a guess that she’s excited by the possibility that Lucas’s answer is going to deflect my father’s anger at her blatant ogling from her to me.

  “Friend,” Lucas answers after a drawn out pause.

  Relief hits me, dismay following hot on its heels.

  I’m a horrible person for being happy that he lied for me. I really am.

  I know how much Lucas hates hiding this thing between us, and how it goes against his innate honesty to lie.

  Two thoughts rattle around my mind.

  Why am I so determined to let my parents run my life?

  Why am I so determined to put their desires in front of my own?

  After observing the way the Black Shamrocks have rallied together every time there’s been a problem—even if half the problems have been caused by the Club—and experiencing their joy at our possible pregnancy, it’s hit me that it doesn’t matter what I do or how hard I try, I’m never going to please my parents.

  It’s a bitter pill to swallow. A pill that forces its way down my throat in the dry swallow from hell. The corrosive, acrid taste it leaves in its wake is likely to linger for a long time.

  “Actually. Lucas is my boyfriend. We’ve been seeing each other for nearly six months.”

  The words leave my mouth unbidden. I don’t know who’s more shocked.

  Lucas, my parents, or me?

  “Nonsense. I forbid it. You’re a Patrice. A surgeon. You will not embarrass me.”

  My father waves his hand at me as he speaks. His eyes shoot daggers, his fury strong enough to be felt over the physical distance between us. “Not with this person. This biker. This gang member. He’s a criminal.”

  “Don’t speak about Lucas like that, Dad.”

  My mother gasps. My father opens and closes his mouth, no words escaping.

  Inhaling deeply, I let the air whistle between my teeth as I empty my lungs.

  Wishing that the ground would open up and swallow me whole, I regard the man who adopted me. I can’t find an iota of love or affection toward me in his face. His eyes are cold, almost dead, as he stares at me in an attempt to quell my uncustomary defiance.

  My father isn’t a small man. He’s above average height, but he’s slender.

  The potency of his personality, and the authority he wears like a favorite jacket, makes him appear bigger than he is. He’s a daunting, intimidating man, capable of bending the most stubborn person to his will. Lucas is twice his size, and intimidating in a very different way, yet I expect him to balk at the intensity of my father’s insults.

  I expect it to go one of two ways: Lucas will either back down and let my father have his say, or lose the temper that I know simmers just below his deceptively placid surface and lash out.

  Lucas shocks me—as he does regularly—when he slings an arm over my shoulder and pulls me into him. He stays silent, blatantly dismissing my father by edging me around until my back faces my parents. He gazes down at me with happiness and hope shining from his eyes, before he plants a kiss on the top of my head.

  “You want to get out of here, Doll? Go somewhere and talk? Alone.”

  I nod into his hard chest, mumbling my agreement.

  Steering me past my parents and toward the hospital entrance as I keep my eyes firmly on the ground, Lucas says over his shoulder, “Personally I think JJ looks hot as fuck in my T-shirt.”

  My mother gasps for the second time in minutes as he answers her snooty question about my clothing in his own inimitable way. I’m wearing one of his long-sleeved Black Shamrock shirts tied in a knot at the waist because it’s nearly a dress on me. He gave it to me to wear before I’d climbed on the back of his bike to come to the hospital, since I was still dressed in the workout clothes I was wearing the night before when I was abducted.

  As we move out of earshot, I hear my father mutter something about not being surprised by my insolence. Lucas snorts at the comment, setting me off.

  We walk away, arm in arm, laughing together. I feel a bolt of pure joy.

  The first time I can remember feeling that way for a very long time.

  ***

  “Now tell me. What the fuck happened back there?” Lucas sits across from me at a secluded table in the cafeteria.

  His voice is happy, but his furrowed brow tells me he’s also confused by my backflip over keeping our relationship a secret.

  Exhilaration still courses through me, mixed with an occasional flare of anxiety. I’m thrilled that Lucas stood by me when I decided to be honest with my parents, but I’m also wracked with angst about the repercussions.

  My father will not take what happened without sanction.

  Eventually, I’m going to need to face him.

  “JJ, talk to me.”

  Shaking off my morbid thoughts of the inevitable confrontation with my father, I give the man in front of me my full attention.

  “I’ve decided that I’m living my life for me.”

  “Good. That’s what I’ve been trying to get you to do for the last six fucking months.”

  Sucking my bottom lip into my mouth, I think carefully about the correct way to word what I want to say.

  “I want to confirm the pregnancy. Once I’m certain, I want to organize an ultrasound...”

  “That’s fucking brilliant,” Lucas exclaims.

  The people closest to us shoot glances our way at his exuberant response.

  “Listen to me before you get excited. I still have reservations about the Shamrocks and that whole aspect of your life. I don’t know if the danger and the lawlessness will ever be something that I’m entirely comfortable with.”

  He inclines his head slowly, not saying a word.

  His expression is blank, almost as if he is scared he’ll spook me if he shows too much emotion.

  “As I said. I want to confirm the pregnancy. I’m thinking very hard about keeping the baby, if I am. We need to discuss our options and work out our future. If I am pregnant and we decide to keep the baby, then we need to discuss how we handle this situation.”

/>   I stop for breath, my previous words having escaped me in a rush.

  Lucas seizes the opportunity to speak.

  “I vote we keep the baby. You can move in with me since my house is bigger. And we’re doing this properly—you’re my Old Lady, we raise the child together, the fucking works. I want it all.”

  I’m thrilled at his vehemence, although I try not to show it.

  I want it all as well. I want the vision I had earlier to become my new reality.

  Nevertheless, I’m still pragmatic enough to know that we can’t just jump into this.

  We both have significant issues to deal with first.

  “Will you tell me about Amy?” I ask quietly, reaching for his hand across the table.

  Shock flits over his handsome face before he shuts down.

  “Nothing to tell. She was my girlfriend. She didn’t want her parents to know she was seeing a biker. We broke up.” Rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand, he smiles.

  A big, fake smile that gets my back up.

  “Let’s go to the pharmacy and get a pregnancy test.”

  When he tries to tug his hand from mine and stand, I refuse to let go.

  Sending him a quelling look that makes him stay in his seat, my temper breaks free.

  “For crying out loud, Lucas. I’ve told you about my parents. About being adopted. I’ve told you nearly every doubt I have about us, and you think it’s fair to fob me off with a bullshit story that tells me nothing. I know she was pregnant, but didn’t have the baby.”

  Groaning, he drops his head into his hands. His tone is strained when he speaks.

  I can’t decide if he’s angry or sad. Maybe a combination of both?

  “Who told you?”

  “Does it matter?” I don’t want to cause trouble between Lucas and Mad Dog, so I’m not going to tell him if I can avoid it.

  “No, it fucking doesn’t,” he replies angrily.

  Pushing back from the table, his chair falls over behind him when he stands. “It’s ancient fucking history. Doesn’t concern you. And it sure as fuck doesn’t have any bearing on our baby and how we raise it.”