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“LikeANightmare”—DeadsetSociety
The wince that pinched her face preceded her wavering unsteadily and I realized I was being a dick again. She’d had her face bashed into the concrete, and there I was grilling her like the Spanish Inquisition.
“Sit down,” I instructed her before she fell and hurt herself worse.
Relief softened her expression, and she dropped to one of the kitchen chairs.
Unsure of what to do next, I got her a glass of water.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
“No problem. So had you been feeling ill?” I asked, trying again to wrap my head around the fact that I was likely going to be a father and trying to figure out a non-dickish way to ask if she was sure it was mine.
Her chest rose in a deep breath before she deflated and her head bowed. “No, I was feeling fine. I’d gone in for a routine appointment to get my IUD replaced. Only it wasn’t there, and evidently a baby is. I swear to you, I had no idea there was an issue. It escaped my mind to check because I hadn’t been sexually active.” Her face flushed beet red at that admission.
“I’m not trying to be an asshole here, but are you sure it’s mine?”
“Yes. Considering you’re the first person I’ve had sex with in… um, a long time.”
“Why didn’t you call my grandmother instead of reaching out to Snow?” I asked her out of curiosity.
“I didn’t want to call Ms. Margaret to ask for you because I didn’t think you’d mentioned that night to her. She might wonder why I was asking for you, and I wasn’t sure how to answer that. So I figured Mr. Snow must be your friend if you had him fix my light and try to fix my car. I didn’t know what else to do. I don’t think I can do this by myself,” she said as she took a shuddering breath.
Letting it all sink in, I absently muttered, “His name is just Snow. Not Mr. Snow.”
“Huh?” She cocked her head with a confused frown.
“Snow is his road name for his club.”
“Club?”
“Motorcycle club,” I explained.
“Like on that TV show?” she asked with a residual sniffle. Her hair was a mess, scrapes adorned her face, her eye was black, and her nose was red, yet she was still insanely beautiful.
I chuckled despite everything that had happened. “A little like that,” I said. “Look, you seem exhausted. How about if you try to get some rest?”
“I don’t know if I can sleep,” she admitted, and in that moment, she looked incredibly young. Too fucking young.
“How old are you?” I had to ask.
“Twenty-six,” she replied, and I swallowed hard. Christ. Twenty-fucking-six.
Closing my eyes, I laid my head back on the wall. Better than twenty, but fucking hell. I was rationalizing that she was older than I’d thought. Then I had to tell myself to stop. It didn’t matter.
“You’re what, forty?” she asked, and my eyes popped open as I shot her an incredulous look.
“Hey. I’m only thirty-eight.”
“That’s only two years off. And you have a lot of gray in your beard,” she said as she dipped her head to hide the lift of her lips.
With a warning growl, I told her, “Yeah, well I’m not too old to have super sperm. Now get your ass in there and get some pajamas on.”
Though she laughed a little at that, she stood and winced a little.
“Are you okay?” I asked, worried that she might have injuries that weren’t apparent.
“Just stiff,” she admitted. She shuffled into her bedroom, and I followed to make sure she was okay.
