by Jessica Ames
I’m catheterised? I also have a bruised kidney? And blood in my urine? None of this sounds positive, at all.
“We’ll need to monitor your pregnancy carefully over the next couple of weeks.”
Wait a moment—did she just say pregnancy? I miss half of the next sentence as my mind flips out.
“—early days here, so baby is well protected. And we got through the surgery without complication, so things look good, but miscarriage is still a risk at this stage, so we’ll need to be careful.”
I stare at her. In fact, I’m gawking at her. Pregnancy… She said I’m pregnant. She definitely said that.
“My… my pregnancy?” My stomach fills with ice and chilled fingers trail up my spine at his words. I’m not pregnant; I can’t be. I’m on the pill; I went on it about a week after me and Dean started regularly sleeping together. And we’re careful. Fuck. Pregnant?
The doctor frowns at me. “You didn’t know?”
Denial—it hits me in the gut. “I’m not pregnant.”
Shit, I can’t be. Dean and I never talked about kids or even marriage. I know we’re both in this long term, but we’ve only been officially together a few months (although we’ve known each other close to six months); kids is such a big step, one I don’t know if he wants to take, one I’m not sure if I’m ready to take.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
My heart is pounding.
“Are you sure?” I ask the doctor as I feel tears prick my eyes.
“Your HCG levels would put you at a few weeks—probably around five or six. May I?” She gestures to the blanket and I nod my consent.
She pulls it down and pushes up my gown so she can examine the incisions on my stomach, but I don’t even notice the pain as she gently fingers around the incision sites.
A myriad of emotions flood me. Fear, confusion—uncertainty front and foremost—but beneath that is an overwhelming sense of peace and acceptance. I’m going to be a mum.
“You said the baby’s okay…”
“We’re not out of the woods yet; it’s still early days and we need to be careful, but for now the pregnancy is viable.”
None of that sounds positive. “I could still lose the baby?”
She considers me for a moment, then admits, “It’s possible, yes. Luckily, at this early stage baby is relatively protected behind the pelvis. We’ll keep you on bed rest, monitor the damage to your kidney and spleen and fingers crossed everything will come out in the wash, but I’m afraid it’s rather a wait-and-see type situation at the moment. I’m sorry, Olivia; I wish I had a better answer for you—or at least a more definitive one. I’m guessing your young man doesn’t know either.”
I shake my head. “And if it’s okay I’d rather it stay that way until I can figure out how to tell him.”
“Of course.” She smiles at me. “Now, I want you to get some rest. Sleep is the key to recovery. And no stress. It’s not good for you or your baby.”
My baby… Dean’s baby… fuck.
I give her a weak smile and watch as she moves to the end of the bed, picks up the chart and jots down some things. And then she leaves the room.
Dean barely lets the door swing back before he’s back at my side. Alone.
“Where’s Holly and Clara?” I ask as I shift on the pillows, trying to get comfortable. Dean helps me sit forward a little so he can readjust them.
“Gone to get coffee—or at least what passes as coffee in this place.”
I stare up at my man, my gorgeous biker and my heart begins to race.
“Dean…”
“Yeah, darlin’?”
Say it. Tell him. Tell him you’re pregnant.
I open my mouth and then I close it again. I can’t do it. I can’t tell him. Not yet. For a while longer I just want to pretend everything is as it was because I have no clue what his reaction will be. And frankly I’m scared it may change things between us.
“Liv?” he says my name when I don’t answer.
“We need to find Simon.” It’s not what I meant to say, but it’s true all the same. The stakes were high before, but now they are even higher. I’m carrying a life inside me—a new life that is relying on me to protect him or her. So far, I’ve done a piss poor job of that.
Finding Simon is priority number one. He’s furious and a furious Simon is a dangerous thing. Even in the past, he’s never hurt me this badly before. His rage was unchecked. I took something from him. And he’s not going to forget that easily.
“You don’t need to worry about Simon. He’ll be taken care of.”
The coldness in his voice makes my heart stutter and I forget about being pregnant. I forget about everything but his words.
“What do you mean ‘he’ll be taken care of’?”
He stares at me a beat, his tongue wetting his lips as his hands drop to his hips. “Darlin’—”
“Don’t darlin’ me, Dean. What does it mean?”
There’s another long pause, another stare down between us and I can almost feel the physical as well as emotional gulf growing.
Then he says, “It means the Club takes care of its own.”
“I’m not Club,” I remind him. I don’t have a patch on my back or a ring on my finger.
“You in my bed?”
“Well, yeah…”
“You on my bike?”
“Dean—”
“You’re mine, Liv. And that makes your shit my shit,” he tells me, his voice emphatic. “It also makes you Club.”
“Just let the police handle it.”
He moves to the bed and bends down, his hands cupping my face gently but even that touch hurts my battered face. I don’t let on, instead, I let Dean press a kiss to my busted lip before touching his forehead to mine.
“When I got that call, I was fucking terrified, Liv. I thought the worst. And when I got to the house it was worse than the worst. You were a mess. There was blood all over your face. I didn’t know where it was coming from. Then we got to the hospital and I thought it’d be okay, but it wasn’t because you were bleeding internally. I sat outside that frigging surgery unit for hours waiting for news you were okay. So, letting the police handle this isn’t going to happen, because the fucker hurt someone I love, and I’m not going to standby and do nothing.”
“I don’t want you to do something stupid. Dean… I don’t want you to get into trouble.”
“Only person who’s got trouble is your ex.”
I’m too tired to argue with him, so I don’t. I just lie there, trying to stop tears from forming in my sore eyes. If my face looks as bad as it feels, I must look awful.
“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” Dean tells me as he strokes a hand over my head. “You need rest.”
“But Simon—”
“Isn’t something you need to be thinking about.”
I want to argue more but I’m tired, so very tired. The lull of the drugs and the anaesthetic still working out of my system is pulling me back. I want to resist it but I can’t. Simon is a problem, but he’s not a problem that’s going anywhere—for now, at least.
Chapter Thirty
When I wake, it’s still dark and Dean is sitting in the chair at my side. He moves as soon as I stir, standing and coming to the edge of the bed, his hand slipping into mine. The last vestiges of sleep give way and the past few days come crashing back down around me: Simon, my pregnancy, Dean.
“You’re awake.”
“I’m thirsty.” I can’t meet his eyes, my guilt at harbouring this huge secret eating at me. I need to tell him and I need to do it sooner rather than later.
He releases his hold and grabs a cup with a straw in it from the top of the cabinet at the side of the bed. One hand goes behind my back to help me sit forward a little while the other positions the straw in front of my mouth. It takes a little fumbling but I manage to get it between my lips. The water isn’t cool; in fact, it’s on the wrong side of tepid. Still, I suck it back, letting the moisture coat my throat. When I
’m done, Dean lowers me back and places the cup back.
“Do you need more pain relief?”
“No, I’m okay.” I can feel dull throbs throughout my body but it’s manageable. I’m sure what I’m on is safe for my baby, but I don’t want to risk putting anything more in my body, if I can help it.
He sinks back onto the chair, pulling it closer to the bedside so he can keep hold of my hand.
“I love you,” he tells me and I feel the warmth those words bring.
“I love you too, Dean.” I smile—or try to; I’m not sure if my facial muscles are working. “Always.” I just hope this will be the case once I tell him about the baby.
“I just need you to know that.”
His words aren’t strange—he tells me he loves me frequently—but his demeanour is. There’s something off about him that I can’t quite put my finger on.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Dean.”
“Darlin’, everything’s fine.”
I don’t believe him, but Dean isn’t the only one keeping secrets. I’m keeping my own.
“Where’s Holly?”
“She went home to sleep. It’s late.”
I nod. “You should do the same.”
His snort tells me exactly what he thinks of that idea.
“Is there any news about Simon?”
“Just focus on getting back on your feet.”
“Dean—”
“Simon Wilson isn’t something you need to worry about, Liv.”
Except he is, because it’s not just me I need to think about right now.
“He isn’t going to give this up. He’s raging mad at me.”
I am strong. I am in control.
Except… right now I’m not.
I’m freaking out. My protective instinct is on overdrive since Dr Ryan broke the news about the little surprise bundle of joy growing in my belly. It wasn’t planned but already I’m falling in love with it. I want my baby and I hope to hell Dean wants it too.
Dean releases my hand and walks to the door. I watch bemused as he pulls it open and makes a come-hither gesture. Logan and Weed suddenly appear and step into the room. I’ve met Logan once before and I have to admit the huge man scares the hell out of me. He’s bigger than Dean, broader too, and his mop of dark hair makes him look wild. It’s hard to remember Mackenzie and Sofia share genes with Logan (and their other brothers, Jem and Adam). He’s nothing like his sisters—or his brothers, in fact. Logan has demons; you can see them in his eyes. Not the type of demons that make a man go out and kill, but the type of demons that keep a man awake at night.
“These two are here all night,” Dean tells me.
Weed winces as he looks me over. “Fuck, sunshine, you look like hell.”
Dean smacks him on the back of the head at the same time as Logan.
“Ow!”
Logan shakes his head. “Try engaging your brain before you open your fucking mouth, dickhead.”
“They’re here tonight,” Dean says, glaring at Weed. “In the morning, Jem and Wade’ll take over. And I’m not leaving your side. You’re safe.”
Tears bloom behind my swollen lids and I let them fall. Christ, I don’t want to cry in front of these tough men, but I can’t help it. I hear Dean shoo his brothers away and the sound of the door catching as he shuts it. Then he’s back at my side.
“He’s never touching you again, darlin’.”
And I believe him; I just worry about the lengths he’ll go to in order to ensure this. Dean is loyal to the people he cares about, loyal to a fault. I don’t want him getting himself into trouble because of me.
“Please don’t do anything stupid or illegal for me.”
He rubs his nose against mine. “Just concentrate on getting better.”
I grab his forearms and he pulls back to look in my eyes. “I’m serious, Dean.” And I am, because I’m going to need him here, not behind bars.
He lets out a long, strained breath. “Babe, you don’t need to worry about this shit.”
“Yeah, Dean, I do because you getting into trouble means me visiting you in jail and I didn’t find you to lose you, so please promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”
He stares at me, then shakes his head. “I’m sorry, darlin’, I’m going to do whatever I have to do to keep you safe.”
I bite my lip. “I need you here.”
“And I’m going to be here. Always.”
“Always? No matter what?”
There must be something in my tone because he frowns at me. “Liv?”
My bottom lip trembles. “I have to tell you something and I don’t know how you’re going to take it.”
His lips pull into a line.
“Just tell me.”
Do it fast. Like ripping off a plaster…
“I’m pregnant.” I close my eyes. I don’t bother with apologies or explanations; what would be the point? What’s done is done.
Silence fills the room and I feel the tears welling behind my closed lids. I don’t want to do this alone, but I will if I have to. But the thought of losing Dean is a soul-deep pain.
“Open your eyes, Liv.”
I do as he commands and his face comes into focus through my watery gaze. I can’t read his expression but his eyes are on mine.
“You’re pregnant?” I nod. “When did you find out?”
“Yesterday. Dr Ryan told me when she examined me.”
He scrubs a hand over his beard and my heart sinks. He’s not happy. After the longest pause, he says, “We have affiliations with a number of Clubs around the country. I’ve known Axel and his old lady a long time—I trust them both. They’ve got a great place just outside Manchester—in the Peak District.”
I have no idea what the hell he’s talking about. Who is Axel and what does this have to do with anything?
“Why’re you telling me this?”
His fingers go into his hair. “Because I want you to go stay with them.”
His words are like a hammer blow to my solar plexus. Oh my God; is he breaking up with me?
“Dean—”
“You have to leave.” He starts pacing the small slither of space at the side of the bed. “It was an option anyway, but now it has to happen.”
My world feels like it’s ending. I’m fairly certain my lungs have forgotten how to work and my head starts to throb. Maybe I should have waited to tell him.
Until when? When I’m pushing the kid out?
Fuck.
I stare at the ceiling overhead, focusing on the bright white of the tiles. Shit. Can I do this alone? I don’t know, but I guess I’ll find out.
“I’m not going, Dean,” I tell him, and my voice is surprisingly strong, given how devastated I am. “You’re not sending me away like some embarrassing secret.”
He stops pacing, his eyes snapping in my direction. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“If you don’t want to be involved that’s fine, but this is my home. You can’t make me leave town.”
I see the confusion on his face. “Babe—”
“I know the timing isn’t exactly perfect, but I want this kid and if you don’t, that’s fine.”
He blinks then he closes the space between us, his hands cupping my face as he rains kisses over my hair. “I want this baby. Fuck, that’s not what I’m saying at all.”
“But… you want me to leave.”
“Yeah, I want you to get the fuck out of Kingsley until that crazy bastard is out of the picture. I spoke to Holly yesterday about your ex. She seems to think Wilson’s going to continue to escalate. Darlin’, I wanted you out of town this morning. Now, knowing you’re pregnant, I want you somewhere safe even more.”
“I’m not running away, Dean. I’m not skipping out and leaving you and the Club and Holly to clean up my mess—”
“Yeah, darlin’, you are. Because if you stay there is every chance that psychotic fucker will kill you, and
our kid. So, you need to be gone so I can concentrate on finding him and getting him out of our lives forever.” His hand goes to my stomach, a mere ghost of a touch. “You’re my world, Liv. Something happens to you, my world ends.”
His words hit me right in the chest and I close my eyes because I feel the same about him.
“You’re my world, too. Which is precisely why I’m not leaving you.”
“Liv—”
“Don’t ‘Liv’ me. I’m not going. End of story.”
He stares at me a beat then says, “I can’t make you go, but this isn’t just about you anymore.”
“You’re not being fair.”
“I don’t care about being fair; I care about keeping you breathing.”
“Well, I care about that too, but I’m also not going to let Simon force me into hiding again. I can’t and I won’t go back to that.” I grab his hand with an air of desperation. “I just found you, Dean, I don’t want to leave you.”
“I don’t want you to leave me either, but it’s not safe for you to stay.”
His fingers trail down my cheek. He’s wiping my tears, I realise, but I was not even aware I’m crying.
“Darlin’, your ex is off his rocker. He’s unpredictable and he’s already hurt you to the point you needed surgery. I can’t risk him doing that again—or worse. You need to be smart here. Getting out of his way is the only way to stay safe. You stay with Axel and his old lady and they’ll keep you safe. Simon’ll never think to look for you there. While you’re gone, me and the Club’ll sort this shit out, so you can come home.”
It sounds so simple when he says it but the thought of not having him here every day, of not waking in his arms… God, it makes me want to cry. But he’s right; it’s not just me anymore. My hand goes to my stomach and I ignore the tightness as I touch the area where I think my baby is nestled. I dodged a bullet; I could have lost him or her—I still could. Staying here wouldn’t be sensible. In fact, it would be downright irresponsible. Judging from the ravaged look on Dean’s face this is not a decision he has come to lightly either.