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226 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 12, 2016
I sure as hell didn’t want to be at Hannigans’ bar, waiting on my ex to stop screwing around with one of the sheep long enough for me to tell him what I needed to tell him.
Bubbles’ annoying me wasn’t anything new. She was a sheep and until Jet had started hooking up with me, she had been one of his favorites. Now that we were over, looked like Jet was back to sniffing around the little bitch.
Bubbles was sitting on Jet’s lap, and her hair was covering most of his face, but even from where I was sitting I could see his eyes and they were zeroed in right on me. He was watching me for a reaction, wanting me to show him I was still able to feel something after the way we’d ended things.
“Shouldn’t you four be doing something? Like running this place?” At the harsh snap we all lifted our heads to find Jet standing right behind me.
“I don’t know,” Hawk growled at his older brother. “Shouldn’t you be doing the same? Or would you rather Bubbles sat on your dick all night while we run this fucking place?”
“Fuck you,” Hawk snarled. “Nah, I’ll let Bubbles do that, but you can have my sloppy seconds, brother.”
“I needed to talk to you,” I finally got out after a few seconds of trying to get moisture back into my mouth.
Blowing out a long breath, I just blurted it out. “I’m pregnant.”
“I’m pregnant, asshole. There, you know. Do what you want with the info, I don’t give a damn anymore.”
“Okay.” That was all he said before he turned and walked back toward the bar. Okay.
Flick’s appointment had been the day before, and I hadn’t gone. No. That was a lie. I’d gone. Sat in the hospital parking lot and watched as Flick had walked inside for her scan.
Turning, I found Uncle Jack, Razor, and Uncle Chaz entering the bar with my best friend and VP, Westcliffe. I didn’t want company—especially Westcliffe’s—right then. He was the one who had told me I should end it with Flick in the first place. He’d gotten into my head, made me think that I was no good for her.
“I knocked Flick up,” I muttered, admitting my sin.
Westcliffe sat up a little straighter, his narrowed eyes turning colder. What the fuck was his deal anyway?
Marry Flick? I hadn’t thought of that. Marriage had been the furthest thing from my mind. Sure, I loved that female, but did I really want to get married? I could make her my ol’ lady without making her my wife, damn it.
Three weeks. I hadn’t seen Jet in three weeks. I figured I wouldn’t see him for longer than that. It was okay, though. I was okay. I didn’t need him to help with the baby. We’d be just fine without him.
“Don’t you eat anymore, Flick? You look like you’ve lost a lot of weight.”
Jet’s usual type was stick-thin. Lord only knew I’d never be that small. I had curves in all the right places, but I also had a good twenty pounds of extra weight on me, too. Well, five extra pounds now.
“Westcliffe has been causing some trouble. I don’t know what his problem is. Ever since I started seeing you, he’s had a stick up his ass, but it’s more than just that. I’ve been so distracted with you that I hadn’t really noticed until now…”
“But this Sunday and Monday bullshit isn’t going to work. I think we should get married, Flick.”
“I’ve known you my entire life, Jet Hannigan. I’m pretty sure that marriage has never entered your mind once. I’m not going to lie to myself by thinking I have somehow become the exception to that.” Realization hit me in the head like a physical blow and my chin snapped up. “Ahhh, the uncles.”
“Let’s get this straight right now, Jet. Any chance that I wanted to marry you flew out the window about six weeks ago. Right now, I can’t even look at you. I don’t know how you’re still the MC’s president.”
“I think you’ve left your balls in Bubbles’ mouth, babe. Might want to go find them.”
I turned my head and met the evil gaze of Westcliffe. “Hello, sweet Felicity.”
That life would suck the rest of my spirit—hell, my frigging will to live—right out of me. I was needed here with Emmie and her family. It was nice to be needed for a change.
For a few months a helpless little life had needed me, but Westcliffe had destroyed my chances of ever holding that precious little baby. From what the doctors had told me the night I’d miscarried, I might never have a baby of my own. He’d been thorough in his beating, after all.
She rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t the Club that got between us, Jet. It was Westcliffe and even damn Bubbles. Plus, your stubborn pride. All I wanted was you and all you seemed to want was your freedom.”
I wouldn’t be that stupid this time around. I wouldn’t let my heart rule our relationship—whatever that might be.
Motherfucker. What the hell just happened? I had thought—hoped—that with me finally admitting that I loved that female, she would say the words back. In the beginning, before I’d ruined things between us, she used to tell me she loved me all the time. I knew she’d always wanted me to repeat the words, but I’d been too much of a chickenshit to give them to her.
Each and every time, my heart would stop—savor those them as they washed over me—but I never acknowledged them. I didn’t believe him when he said them. I didn’t understand why he was saying them now, anyway. They weren’t necessary and I honestly didn’t want to hear it.
I wanted every second he was willing to give me before he got bored and tossed me out of his life like he had last time.
Dark lashes fluttered and she shook her head as if to get rid of the daze she had been in. “I was just thinking that I’m going to miss this when you finally get tired of me again.”
“You loved me,” I repeated, shaking my head in disbelief, “but you still tore my heart out by making me feel like the one thing you knew I never wanted to become. My mother.”
Image after image of him making me feel like a Club sheep, of him with Bubbles at the bar, of his emotionless face laughing at me for daring to fall in love with him, all of them raced through my mind and I was helpless to keep them at bay. They ripped through me like physical blows and that only made me angrier.