It’s sad to think how far I’ve fallen in such a short amount of time. Not that it had happened to me, but if I had gotten pregnant from unfortunate circumstances while my dad was still alive, I never would have had to hitch a ride to a free clinic one town over. He would have hired a specialist to come to handle it discreetly in our home.
Sighing, I resign myself to trudging down the road with my thumb held out for someone to take mercy on me. Slipping out the back residential door, I try to find my way around to the front while leaving as few footprints as possible. Not an easy task with all the snow.
The air is chilly again this morning, and my breaths cloud before me almost as thickly as they did last night. Thinking of our perfectly wonderful,normalevening together, following my wonderful family day in the snow, I feel a pang in my chest. It hurts me to think of what I’m about to do. What I’m about to lose. I’ll be ending the possibility of what could have been, and I didn’t even tell Gabe. Guilt consumes me, but only for an instant.
I’m being ridiculous. Gabriel probably wouldn’t even want the baby.Besides, isn’t the whole point of being an outlaw biker not to be tied down like that?It’s not like he’s even really my boyfriend. We proved that last night when he tried to play the normal boyfriend for a couple of hours, and it backfired. Like he said, he can try to show he cares, but he’s never going to be normal. We’re never going to be a real couple. Which means he’s never going to be my boyfriend. So really, I’m doing him a favor.
And besides, I don’t want the baby either. It would completely fuck up my plans of revenge and then getting the fuck out of dodge. Still, as I press my palms to my abdomen as though I might already feel the baby growing inside me, I feel a deep, aching melancholy fill me.
Spending time with Parker yesterday, watching Starla and Max and Jada with the children, laughing and playing, and spending quality time with those sweet little bundles of energy filled me with a joy that I have yet to find in another area of my life. Perhaps, surprisingly, I’m more inclined to be a mother than I have ever realized or thought possible.
Until yesterday, I’d always pictured being a parent as pushing out a couple of kids, getting some plastic surgery to ensure my bits got put back in the right places, then handing the squalling bundle off to a nanny until I needed to parade it around at social events. But yesterday showed me a different side to having children. I found I might actually enjoy their tiny personalities and fascinating perspectives. They make mefeelin a way I’m not used to, and I find that I just might enjoy being a parent.
But someday. Not today. I have too much to get done. And that includes finding someone better suited to me. Yes, if I’m being honest with myself, I do love Gabe. I love him more than I’ve ever loved another person in my life. I might even be in love with Gabe. I know I’m falling for him in a dangerous and terrifying way. But he’s just not good for me. Not good enough. Not when he’s part of a dangerous biker gang, where his life could be cut short at a moment’s notice, and I would be left in the lurch. I can’t do that. And I definitely can’t do that to an innocent baby.
So today, I have to go to the clinic. I have to make the hard choice. And I have to make it on my own. Even so, I can’t completely banish the heavy sadness that constricts my chest.
9
Winter
I bundle up with a hat,scarf, and gloves that cover my branding from Gabe, then wrap my coat close around me as I head out the back door of the clubhouse and step onto the shoulder of the road. I start walking along the winding Blackmoor road, heading away from town. It’s early enough in the day that I’m sure to catch a ride if I stick with it, and in the meantime, walking will do me good. Besides, the farther I get from the clubhouse, the smaller the risk of getting caught and brought back before doing what I need to do.
Hearing the rumble of a large motor, I glance over my shoulder to make sure it’s not one of the Devil’s Sons coming to stop me. It’s not. The large truck is entirely unfamiliar to me, so I stick out my thumb, making it clear I need a ride.
I’m blessed with someone willing to stop for me on my first try as the truck slows and pulls off to the side of the road to wait for me to catch up. I run, worried they might change their mind before I get to the door. Patches of rust surround the door handle, and I have to yank hard to get it open, but I succeed through determination.
“Afternoon, darlin’,” the man in the driver’s seat says, offering a crooked-toothed grin. “Where you headin’?”
“Perola Springs?” I ask, hoisting myself up into the truck before he’s officially offered me a ride.
“I can make that happen for a pretty little thing like you,” he says, his eyes raking down my body.
Cringing, I hesitate, holding the door partially open as I debate whether it’s worth the risk to get a ride from this man. But Ireallyneed to get to the clinic, and this might be my one opportunity. Taking a fortifying breath, I pull the door shut behind me, reminding myself that it’ll only be a twenty-minute drive. I can endure that.
“So, what’s a beauty like you doing walking down the road alone in the middle of the day?” The man leers at me, taking his eyes off the road for an uncomfortably long time until I answer him.
My skin crawls, and I turn my gaze toward the windshield as I curl in on myself. “I, uh, don’t have a car right now and am… meeting a friend for lunch.” That’s good. Let him know someone’s expecting me. Not that I think he’ll try anything, but better to get it out of his mind early if I can.
“And they can’t come pick you up? Some friend. I say you ditch them and hang out with me. I’ll be far more fun.”
A wave of nausea threatens to take over, and I swallow hard. I don’t think this stranger would take too kindly to me throwing up in his car, regardless of the rust on the door. “While I’m sure you would be great fun, it’s not that my friend doesn’t want to come get me. They… don’t have a car either.”
“How old are you?” he asks.
And I realize he must think it possible that my “friend” and I aren’t old enough to have a driver’s license yet. I don’t know right now whether pretending to be younger might help or hurt me in this situation. I hesitate, debating whether I think he might be a pedophile or someone who would lose interest if he knew he could get in trouble for statutory rape. A deep agony combined with fury consumes me as I realize I shouldn’t have to be making this kind of judgment call at all. In my former life, I wouldn’t be in this kind of situation. I never would have had to hitchhike anywhere.
With a shocking intensity, I find myself missing my beautiful white BMW, missing my driver, missing my old life and the inherent security that came with having all the money and power in the world. It almost feels like a dream now, that life of luxury, where my greatest problems were whether or not I needed botox and if people would show up for my parties. When I think back on it, it’s almost as if I see my life through warped glass, like I’m looking at a distorted version of it, and it doesn’t quite match my old perspective.
“Judging by your silence, I’m guessing I don’t want to know,” the creepy old man says. But from his tone, I get the feeling he kind of likes the idea of having a young girl in his truck who doesn’t want to admit her age.
He gives me the willies, and I just want to get to the clinic so I can get away from him as soon as possible. Pressing as close to the passenger door as I can, I look out the side window and remain silent, trying to give him as many signals as possible that say I would prefer we stop talking.
He doesn’t. The entire ride is excruciating, packed with underhand comments that hint at sexual favors for him giving me a lift. As soon as he pulls within a block of the clinic, I perk up and grip the handle of his truck door, ready to jump and roll if need be.
“This is perfect. Thanks so much for the ride,” I say quickly, popping the door slightly to show my urgency.
“Whoa, whoa!” he says in surprise as he slams on the brakes. “Let me come to a complete stop, at least.”