"What’s up?” he asks, his brow furrowing with concern. I know that I have to come clean.
And so, I do.
"Daddy, I’m pregnant."
Shock courses over his face, but a moment later, a smile cracks it wide open. A smile? He’s happy...?
"That’s wonderful news," he tells me. "Does Todd know yet? I’m sure he’s going to be the most amazing father–"
I screw my face up in disgust at the mere notion of Todd being the father of this child. No. Not a chance in hell. My father tips his head to the side at me.
"What is it?”
"Todd’s... not the father," I confess. And I watch as a dawning realization spreads over his face – and my heart sinks as I try to imagine what is to come next.
11
Shotgun
I push the engine as hard as it’ll go as I cover the last few miles to Denver. I’m so close to her, I can almost taste it. I need to see her. And I know that she needs me.
She called me up a few hours ago, not her usual bright self – instead, I heard her tearful voice, and was sure something had happened to her father.
I’ve put the pieces together over the last few weeks. Her dad has real strong opinions on guys like me, ones who ride with a motorcycle club. And she doesn’t want to upset him while he’s in recovery. And I get it. I do. But her voice cracking on the phone changed my mind. I need her in my arms. Now. And forever.
"Spring, what is it?” I asked her. I hated hearing her like that. It wasn’t right. Not right that I wasn’t there with her.
"I... I’m going to need to see you when I get back. It should be in the next few days," she explained. "I’m sorry to have to do it like this, but we can talk about it then..."
"It’s serious?” I asked her.
"It’s serious," she murmured. "I’ll speak to you soon, okay?”
"Where are you staying in Denver?" I demanded.
"W-what do you mean?”
"Text me the address," I told her. "I’ll be there by the end of the day."
I hung up the phone and, a moment later, her message appeared in my inbox. As soon as I had it, I went to grab my helmet from the bedside table, and stalked out to my bike.
I don’t think I’ve ever driven harder or faster in my life. I need to get to her. My mind is racing – what's happening? Is it her father? I have no idea. But she wants me there, just as much as I need to see her once more.
I have asked a hundred times to come see her since she has been gone. But she’s been adamant that I shouldn’t. That her father needed to be her priority, and I’ve respected that. Until now. Her voice on the phone… hell, she sounded broken in ways that I couldn’t bear.
I cut through the bustling city night until I come across the rental house that I see matches the address that she sent me. Pulling the bike to a halt, I hear the door slam, and look up to see her running towards me.
"Shotgun!” she calls out to me, and I lean down to scoop her up into my arms. I bury my head in her shoulder, inhaling her scent, her touch lighting fires in me that have been too dim to notice for the last few weeks. I know it, now – I know it. I love her. Everything that I felt from the moment I first heard about her tattoo, it has been real. And now, finally, I will be able to tell her.
"I’m so glad you’re here," she breathes, and I cup her face in my hand, scan her for any sign of an explanation of what is happening right now. Honestly, I don’t care what she has to tell me. I know I can handle it. I know I can handle anything that she throws my way. As long as I am here with her.
"I came as fast as I could," I assure her. "What’s been happening? Is your dad okay?"
"He’s fine," she replies nervously, and she glances away from me – I can see tears sparkling in her eyes. Are they happy ones, at seeing me again? Or something else entirely?
"Tell me," I plead with her, catching her face in my hand so that she has no choice but to look up at me. She swallows heavily and, finally, tells me what I need to know.
"Shotgun, I’m pregnant."
The world stops spinning for a moment. I am sure that I must have misheard her.
"Pregnant?" I murmur. She nods.
"Pregnant."
The word sounds... good coming out of her mouth. Like it belongs there. I plant a kiss on her forehead, trying to work out what the fuck I feel about all of this. Pregnant? Really? She’s... even as she stands in front of me right now, she’s pregnant? Carrying our child?