Nitro moved past me, not touching, but close enough that I caught the scent of him -- clean and sharp underneath the smoke.He glanced at me once, his expression still unreadable, and then tipped his head toward the main building.
“Come inside,” he said, the first words he’d spoken.Not a question.But also not a command.
I followed him across the gravel, my footsteps sounding too loud in my ears.The Prospect watched us go, his expression carefully blank.A few of the men near the building turned to look, curiosity quickly masked when they saw who was with me.I kept my gaze on Nitro’s back, on the straight line of his shoulders under his cut, on the measured certainty of his stride.
He held the door for me, one hand on the frame, not quite touching as I passed.The warmth inside hit me like a wall after the evening chill, along with the smell of beer and leather and the scent of a space lived in by too many people for too long.It was exactly as I remembered from that night -- the same low lighting, the same sense of contained chaos -- but empty now of the press of bodies, the crush of the party.
We were alone in the main room, or nearly.A man I didn’t recognize sat at the far end of the bar, nursing a drink and pretending not to watch us.Otherwise, the space was ours -- Nitro standing with his back to the door, me with my bag still on my shoulder and my hand still resting protectively over my stomach.
He glanced toward the bar and made a motion with his hand.The music died down a few seconds later.He looked at me for a long moment, his expression giving away nothing of what he was thinking.Then he reached for my bag.
I let him take it, my fingers slow to release the strap.As he lifted it, it felt like some small piece of the burden I’d been carrying grew lighter.Not the important one.Not the one that had brought me here.But something, at least.
“Why are you here?”he asked, his voice level.
I took a breath.“You know why.”
His gaze dropped to my stomach again, this time holding there.Yeah.He might not be able to see through my jacket, but he’d figured it out anyway.Why else would I show up here out of the blue?Sure, he’d used a condom, but those were never foolproof.
“Four months,” he said.Not a question.
I nodded.“Our night.”
A flicker of something crossed his face -- too quick to name, there and gone in an instant.He set my bag down carefully.“You should have called.”
“I tried.Three times.The club’s phone went straight to voicemail.Didn’t seem like something I should leave a message about.I did leave my name and number and asked for you to call me.Clearly, you didn’t.”
He was quiet for a moment, processing.“I never got the message.”
Of course he hadn’t.I’d tried the bar where the Reckless Kings were known to hang out.The address I’d found online for the strip club they owned.Nothing had panned out until I’d remembered the compound.The last option.
“I would have found you sooner,” I said.“If I could have.”
He studied me, his gaze moving over my face like he was memorizing it.“You’re keeping it.”
Not a question this time either.A statement of fact.And I wasn’t sure I was ready to correct him just yet.Not one baby.Two.
“Yes.”I met his gaze steadily.“I am.”
He nodded, a short movement that might have been acceptance or just acknowledgment.“You have somewhere to stay?”
The question caught me off guard.I’d prepared for anger, for denial, for cold dismissal.Not this -- this careful assessment of my immediate needs, this matter-of-fact approach to a situation that had turned my life upside down.
“No,” I said.“Not yet.”
He picked up my bag again, hefting it like he was judging its weight.“There’s a room in the back.The one we used before.You can stay there tonight.We’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.”
It wasn’t acceptance.Wasn’t commitment.Wasn’t any of the things I’d both hoped for and feared.But it was a start -- a place to stand while the ground shifted underneath me.A chance, at least, to be heard.
“Thank you,” I said.
He looked at me for one more moment, his expression still unreadable.Then he turned and headed for the hallway, my bag in his hand, clearly expecting me to follow.
I did.One foot in front of the other, across the floor and into whatever came next.The same choice I’d made that night, when I’d followed him down this same hallway to his room.The same irrevocable step into a future I couldn’t predict.
But different now.Changed by what had grown between us in the months since.By the two lives taking shape inside me.By the fact that this time, I wasn’t walking away at dawn.
This time, I was staying.
