Nausea woke me up two hours before I planned to wake up for the day, so of course, she’d still be asleep.
I hang up as I rub my forehead. I don’t know what to do. Miles is still on the run. I’m not on speaking terms with my mother yet, not trusting her, especially since she still lets Nova come around. Drew has literally just had a baby and doesn’t need my stress, and Kodi is on shift today.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my heart, which is trying to beat itself out of my chest but instead, I gasp when my phone rings and I fumble it in my hands, then grip it tightly before I drop it.
Damn, I didn’t expect that.
Checking the ID thinking maybe it’s Belle calling me back, I sigh seeing it is only Crash.
“Crash I –”
He cuts me off before I can tell him I don’t have time for whatever he’s after right now, because seriously, we’re not at calling each other stages yet.
I need to learn not only to forgive him for not standing by me, but also to forgive myself for waiting so long to speak to himabout it. All the air is sucked out of me when he says, “Little sis, I need you not to panic.”
Did he just say that to me?
“A little advice, big brother, when you are calling someone, you don’t tell them not to panic!” I snap and demand, “Where is my husband?”
He went on the run with Miles, and for me not to panic would mean that this has something to do with my husband.
I eye the pregnancy test again, and I swallow the bile.
“Shit,” Crash mutters just as I hear someone say, “We need her here now!” and everything inside me tenses, and my stomach tightens as a bad feeling churns.
“Trick was shot, we need you at the clubhouse,” Crash rasps suddenly, and someone shouts,“You did not just tell his wife over the fucking phone!” but I hang up without thinking and rush out of the bathroom and then down the stairs.
I grab my cut on instinct and put it on before grabbing my keys, my only thought being to get to my husband.
***
“Where is he?” I demand as I rush inside, adrenaline keeping me upright and I spot Patricia at the back—pale and trembling.
“You are not welcome here, he is not your real husband!” I hear Lavender snap, and I look to my right to see her storming towards me, her mascara staining her cheeks, and I growl, “Last time I checked bitch, I’m a club princess, I grew up here, and you are nothing but a patch chasing whore. I have more right being here than you and I’m the one medically trained!” as I run down the few steps and towards the medical room.
I don’t get far before a hand grips my arm and yanks me back, and I turn and lock eyes with Lavender’s as her nails dig into my arm.
She sneers, “He isn’t yours! You are not welcome!”
The gall of this woman…
I respond in a very lady like way by spitting in her face. She gasps and lets go of my arm, scratching it in the process and instantly, before she can gain her footing, I pull back my arm, fist my hand, and swing, connecting with her jaw. She screams in pain as she falls to the floor then grabs her face as she stares up at me in shock.
“He is my husband, my old man, the father of my child, not yours,” I sneer before I lean down and grip her cheek hard, and I snap, “It isn’t my fault the drink you laced got used by me and him instead of you!”
Her eyes widen at my accusation, and the room becomes tense as I shove her back, causing her to fall onto her back before I turn to a shocked clubhouse, and I demand, “Where is my husband?”
“Medial room,” Patricia whispers as she eyes Lavender on the floor, and I rush towards the medical room with my heart in my throat and a throbbing hand.
“Where the fuck is Clark?!”I hear Lick shout as I run into a chaos room, and I swear, the struggle to breathe becomes hard as I look at my shirtless husband, unconscious on the hospital make-shift bed, blood pouring from his chest, a man I don’t recognize slowly wiping the blood away.
“Oh god,” I choke as I cover my mouth, and horror washes over me.
“You must be Clark,” the man says, “I’m Psycho, and I have our medic on the phone, but I need someone medically trained to help.”
“I-I, I’ve only just started my training and-and, that is my husband, I can’t…” I stutter just as Crash grabs my hand and pulls me into the room.
“Buttercup,” Miles chokes as his head turns my way, and I rush over to him and cup his cheek.
