"It's for your own good," I insisted.
"I'm dying inside," Dezi said, smirking. "If Sway was still here, he'd understand."
Slash and his men had headed back home.
With instructions on opening up their own chapter.
"You'll be fine. Hope said she's dropping you off some treats tomorrow so you shut the hell up already," I told him with a smile.
Even when he was a pain in the ass, it was hard not to be in a little bit of brotherly love with Dezi.
The most interesting thing about him was he was almost the reverse of most men I knew. Dezi wore his fun and sweet and silly sides outwardly as a shield, hiding away the dark shit I knew was underneath it, the stuff that only came out in a sticky or violent situation.
I was curious, over time, to see what all the dark was, where it came from, and what kind of woman he might settle down with. If he settled down at all.
"Alright, come on," Violet said, nodding at Andi, and slapping her knees before moving to stand. "I need to go get some sleep before my rabies shot kicks in. If anyone catches me around town before then, hissing and spitting at strangers—"
"It would be just like any other day?" Billie asked, smirking.
"Yeah, sounds about right," Violet agreed. "Nice to meet you, Danny. I'll meet you here on Wednesday."
"Sounds good," I agreed, saying my goodbyes to all the girls as they headed out.
"What's Wednesday?" Fallon asked, hands still roaming over my body. Chastely, for the moment.
"We're going to go box at your aunts' gym," I told him, kind of excited at the prospect.
"She's a killer," Fallon warned. "Just ask Dezi."
"Hm?" Dezi asked, looking up from snagging some pizza out of the box. "Oh, yeah. I was a walking bruise the next week."
I guessed if you were going to be a female bounty hunter, it took a lot of strength and stamina.
"So, did you have a good time?" Fallon asked.
"I did, actually. It was different, but not in a bad way. Oh, and they helped me pick out a swatch in under ten minutes," I said, tone a little pointed since he had been absolutely no help at all in the swatch department, claiming each of the reddish-brown colors I'd showed him were 'the same' when they were clearly very different.
"Good, that's good. One less thing for us to have to do when we could be doing, you know, much more interesting things," he said, hands sinking into my hips, turning me on his lap, then getting onto his feet.
"Sure. Sure. Have fun fucking," Dezi said, tone petulant. "I'll just be sitting here with my blue balls, drowning my sorrows in saturated fats."
"Yep, have fun," Fallon called over his shoulder as he walked me back to our room.
Fallon - 12 months
So, I'd knocked her up.
I wouldn't say either of us were particularly surprised when she'd missed her period and had to grab a test.
We'd been fucking almost nonstop since we'd started officially dating. And, well, sometimes the condom was just a little too far away.
Shit happens.
And since we were both serious about each other, neither of us really gave a shit that we didn't do the whole ring and wedding thing first.
But, ah, I was starting to think maybe we'd both been a little hasty in saying we wanted a little army of ankle-biters. Because, well, Danny was a fucking miserable pregnant woman.
Considering that she was difficult on a normal day and it didn't even faze me, saying she was a mess when she was all doped up on the baby-making hormones was putting it kindly.
It was so bad that Dezi, who never seemed bothered by anything, had started to go out of his way to avoid her.
Almost from the jump, she'd had whiplash-inducing symptoms. One minute she was hot and cursing and spitting about that, the next she was cold and crying about that. She was sad, she was mad, she was in constant search of foods to satiate her ever-changing cravings.
Then, of course, at the beginning, she'd been sick. All day sick. She practically lived in the bathroom.
Once that passed, she'd just been, well, let's just call it... uncomfortable.
And because she was uncomfortable, we all were uncomfortable.
Out of all the girls, Billie was the only one who hadn't run for the hills. Though as I stood back and listened to Billie encouraging Danny to tell me how she 'really feels' while rubbing her back, I was starting to wish she'd taken a hike too.
"I feel like he should have to carry this baby," Danny said, shooting small eyes at me. "He should have to have someone tap-dancing on his bladder and stabbing him in the internal organs and giving him never-ending heartburn. And then, after nine months of that pleasantness, he should have to push it out of his dick."