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“People like us aren't meant to get happily ever after. We’re self-destructive. We get something good, and we screw it up,” she tells me, her eyes watching her fingers as they move over my skin.
“You maybe, but not me.” I grab her hand and bring it to my lips, kissing her fingertips. “I ain’t ever had anything this good,” I admit honestly, there comes a time when a man’s gotta lay out all his cards. These are mine.
Alex tries to hide her reaction from me, but I see the goosebumps that raise under the skin on her arm. A moment passes between us, one that suggests she might feel the same way. But she’s right, we have to live in the real world, and in that one, we don’t belong together. No matter how convinced I am we could make it work.
“I have to go.” She goes to move, but I grip her into place, taking the back of her head in my palm and forcing her lips onto mine. I kiss her slowly and soft, in a way I never thought I’d be capable of. Now that I’ve tasted it, I want to kiss her like that every day until the day I die.
“Stay,” I whisper against her mouth, the desperation inside me overwhelming all my pride.
“I can't.” There’s a trace of pain in her reply.
“I won't beg,” I warn, my voice cracking as I squeeze her hair between my fingers.
“I know you won’t.” She sounds grateful for that, and it cuts me up.
“We're bad for each other, Cody Harrison.” She kisses my forehead before she pushes herself up and moves away from me. This time I don't stop her, I watch her locate her clothes that are scattered on my floor. The voice in my head screams at me to make her stay. To tell her how I feel. But I’m too fucking scared. I’ve spent years avoiding feeling like this. The irony in the fact it ain’t reciprocated is ridiculous.
She comes back in from the kitchen wearing her jeans and throws the sweater she was wearing over her head.
“I'll never forget you,” she tells me in that seductive voice that makes my cock steel fuckin’ hungry. So I stand up, letting the cover shift off my naked body and so she sees the effect of it. Grabbing her throat in the arch of my hand, I kiss her, this time like I own her. Pretending one last time that there’s a chance she could actually be mine for keeps.
“I’m impossible to forget, darlin’.” I put that cocky exterior in place to shield her from my pain as I pull back.
“Goodbye, Alex.” My hand slides off her skin when I force myself away from her. Then, getting off the bed, I leave her standing in my room and head for the bathroom.
I close the door behind me and jump in the shower, hoping she’s gone when I get out. I can't handle watching her leave. I’d probably end up doing something stupid like trying to stop her. Which proves she’s right, we’re toxic together, a lethal combination of jealous rage, bad tempers, and frustration. I can go back to being me again now. I liked the man I was before, way better than the wreck I am now.
Things are gonna be much better this way… I just wish it didn’t have to hurt so fuckin’ much.
It’s been a week since Manitou Springs, and leaving him was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Such a huge part of me was grateful that he didn't try to stop me, it made leaving so much easier. I would never have asked Squealer to choose between me and his club. I’d realized after he’d taken me to the house where he and his brother were locked up, how important the Dirty Souls are to him.
There’s a tense silence as Dad drives me out of town to a private clinic where he made my appointment. It’s been a tough week, his judgmental eyes have watched my every move. Mother is overbearing. She hasn’t asked many questions, she’s just happy to have me home. She’ll never know who Abby was. She’ll never know about Hawker, or Squealer, or our baby.
The fetus is what Dad refers to it as.
“It says online, the appointment can take about an hour, so I’ll get myself a coffee and come back to pick you up,” he informs me as I get out of the car. I don’t respond, just close the door behind me and watch as he drives away. I take a deep breath, and I step inside the clinic.
The receptionist smiles kindly when I give her my details and then hands me a form to fill in while I wait to be seen. I scan through all the questions easily until it asks me when my last period was. I can’t think of dates or count weeks when my head is filled with so much sadness. Today is Abby’s funeral, Maddy texted me this morning to tell me she received the flowers I sent, but it’s not enough. I should be there; all this is my fault. I should have got to her sooner. I should have paid more attention to the man she was talking to online. You hear all kinds of horror stories; I’ve filed so many cases. How did I not know better?
The answer to all my questions is simple. I was distracted by Squealer.
I have to leave that space on the form blank.
It doesn’t take long for a tall blonde woman to step out of her room and call me through. The nerves inside me are enough to even make my nausea disappear as I follow her.
“Morning, Miss Monroe.” She smiles, pointing me to a seat while she looks over the form I’ve filled in.
“I see you are unaware when your last period was, that's okay, we will be able to see how far along you are using ultrasound.”
“Ultrasound. I thought this would be straightforward.” I swallow the huge lump that's just gathered in my throat.
“It will be. Once we know how far along you are, we can determine which method is most appropriate.” I nod my head and feel the tears sting my eyes. I just don’t understand why. I know hormones could be a thing with pregnancy, but whenever I think about going through with this, I get so emotional. I feel like I’m taking something away, not just from Squealer, but from myself. But I’ve gone over and over in my head why I need to do this, and the list of reasons I have far outweigh the reasons not to.
If you want to hop on the bed, we’ll take a look.” The doctor points to the couch in the corner where all the monitors are.
“Sure.” I take the gown she offers me and go to the bathroom to change, and when I come back out, she’s waiting for me on a stool beside the bed. I take position and wait. She explains that she has to use the probe during early pregnancy, and I lie back and shut my eyes so she can do her thing.
“Why is the monitor facing away from me?” I ask curiously when I open my eyes again.
