Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 52357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
“Ol’ ladies like to shop. Hellions do not shop unless absolutely necessary.”
She laughs and settles in. “Thank you, Justin. I know it’s hard for you to have much energy these days and trying not to show it adds to the fatigue.”
“Tripp knows,” I share.
Her eyes widen.
“I told him about the cancer. About you. The baby.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me to fight.”
She nods slowly. Then, almost in a whisper, she mutters, “So fight.”
“I will.”
“For him.” I look at her belly. “For you.”
She squeezes my hand. “For us.”
FOURTEEN
DIA
"In the dance of life, move with the grace of a bear and the heart of a warrior." — Unknown
One morning in the middle of the month, I look in the mirror and don’t recognize myself.
Not in a bad way.
I just… see someone new.
Belly round, skin flushed, hair tied up. I look like someone building a life. Someone rebuilding after ruin.
I place my hand over my bump and whisper, “We’re going to be okay.”
And for the first time, I believe it.
My belly isn’t small anymore.
It’s there when I wake up, stretching the hem of Justin’s shirts. It’s there when I brush my teeth, lean over the sink, and see a version of myself I barely recognize in the mirror.
But she’s stronger.
More real.
And when I place my hands over the curve of my stomach and feel a tiny kick thump against my palm, I remember: I’m still here.
We’re still here.
When everything fell apart I still made it through.
Justin walks into the kitchen behind me, shirtless and rumpled, hair sticking up in every direction because it’s starting to grow back thick again. He didn’t lose all his hair, just thinned out a bit. As they phase down treatments, he is getting stronger. He pauses when he sees me.
The way he looks at me, it’s like I’m art. Not fragile. Not broken. Just something worth noticing. A treasure to admire.
“You staring because I’m glowing or because I’m the size of a small sedan?”
“Glowing,” he says, but his eyes drop to my belly, and he smirks. “And maybe the sedan part, too. I like you having all these curves and swells.” He cups my breasts and I feel the heat rush through my body.
I laugh, lean against the counter, and stretch my arms. “This kid is doing somersaults.”
Justin steps behind me, wraps his arms around my waist, and presses his palms gently to my belly.
“Wants to ride already,” he murmurs into my hair.
“God help us.”
He kisses the top of my head. “Club legacy.”
“You better be the one teaching him how to ride. I’ll be the one wrapping them in bubble wrap and crying during school plays.”
“You’re gonna be the best damn mom.”
I don’t say anything, because I’m scared I won’t be. I’m scared I’ll screw it up. I’m scared they’ll grow up and ask about their real father, and I won’t know how to answer.
But I press back into Justin’s chest, and for now, that’s enough.
Everyone’s been good to me.
I never thought I’d feel like I belonged in the MC world after Benji died. For a while, I floated like a ghost between the clubhouse and my grief, numb and unreachable.
But now?
My mom brings over casseroles and insists on giving me foot rubs. Maritza texts me baby name ideas at midnight. I have a name picked out. I’ve made my decisions and I’m at peace with them. I just don’t want to share that piece yet. So I let my best friend send me all the ideas. I can save them for her whenever she needs ideas. Even BW checks in, dropping off peanut butter milkshakes and pretending it’s because he wants one.
They all know. About the baby. About Justin. About the messy middle we’re living in.
But no one judges.
They just love.
And that’s more than I ever expected.
I started going with Toon to his treatments.
He tried to talk me out of it at first, saying it’s not a pretty scene and he doesn’t want me wasting hours in a beige room while he’s hooked up to a machine.
I go anyway. Karsci handles most things at the rescue, my non-profit business where I love saving and training local dogs. In my current state, I don’t do as much hands ons with the dogs, but I still show up for paperwork and screening potential homes for the animals we take in. Since I don’t work at the Salty Dog anymore, it’s not like I have someone who is going to write me up or fire me if I don’t come in on my designated time.
He hasn’t missed a single doctor’s appointment for me, I won’t miss any more treatments.
The first time, I sit beside him in the chair, reading some cheesy romance novel while he dozes off, blanket up to his chest, color drained from his face.
He looks older when he’s asleep. Like the weight of pretending falls off him.