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T he deep gravel of his voice sends a tremor through me, and I’m not so sure it’s from fear. The pull to launch myself into his arms is demanding, but I don’t know where I stand. I don’t understand what happened back in his motel room three weeks ago.

So instead of falling into him, I force myself to step back.

“You said there was nothing I could say that would make you turn your back on me.” I remind him of the words he spoke that night when I was scared to admit the heinous things that had happened to me at the hands of Daniel and his friends. “You said nothing would stop you from wanting to protect me.”

“That hasn’t fucking changed, Angel,” he snaps, and I take another step back. “Stop. Don’t take another fucking step. You know I’ll never hurt you.”

Won’t he?

Maybe not physically, but we both know physical pain is nothing compared to the damage emotions can do.

“You were angry when you saw…” My voice falters, a lump forming in my throat as I gesture to my bump.

“No… Yes… Fuck!” His whole body tenses before he spins, giving me his back.

Tension sparks in the air between us, like it’s alive. A cell or being that you can feel and see.

Ringo shoves his hands through his hair, his chest rising and falling like he’s trying to keep himself from breaking apart.

The muscles in his shoulders strain through his tee, his leather vest hiding the rest of his back.

I’ve never really studied his vest before. But now, with the hue of the city lights glowing over us, it picks up the white design on the black leather, and I’m surprised at the beauty in it.

The skull is anything but perfect, and I think that’s where the beauty lies.

It’s imperfection.

With the motorcycle tyre behind the skull and the wings fanning out at each side, I get a sense of freedom from it.

Or maybe, my hormones are making me see shit that isn’t there.

I really don’t know.

Ringo exhales sharply, tugging at his dark strands before tilting his head back, looking up at the sky.

My eyes follow, the twinkling stars above so dull compared to how brightly they shine back in Fox Pines.

A perk of country living I guess.

“I’m sorry.” His words float to me, soft yet heavy, before he drops his hands and spins back to face me .

For a long moment we stare at each other.

And it’s then that I see something different behind his whiskey eyes.

Pain.

It’s not the kind of pain that comes and goes. It’s the kind of pain that settles deep. The kind that makes you feel like you’re drowning.

I know that kind of pain.

As hard as I try to stop it, my lip wobbles, my reaction visceral.

“Abs, I need you to know my reaction to seeing you pregnant wasn’t because of something you did.” His voice is rough, taking on a husky tone.

It’s incredibly sexy, but there’s no room for thoughts like that right now.

I shake my head, swallowing hard. “I don’t understand,” I admit, and he chuckles, although there is no humour to it. Just bitterness.

“Shit, I don’t even want to have this fucking conversation.”

His words are like a slap, and I jerk back, instantly throwing up my walls.

“Then don’t!” I snap, my feet already moving to flee.

“Wait. Abs. That came out wrong.”

He reaches for me, gripping my arm as I try to move past, but I wrench free, heart hammering, my instincts screaming at me to get away.

“I don’t think it did,” I bite out. “Your words were pretty clear.”

Storming off, I don’t get far before his strong hands grip my waist and slip around my middle, his large, warm palms settling over my belly. Over my baby.

“Don’t run from me, Angel. ”

His breath fans across my ear, and for a moment, I relax back into him.

It’s instinct.

It’s what I crave.

To melt into him.

To believe him.

But I have more than myself to think about now. I can’t let my emotions dictate how I handle things.

“Abs, please,” he rasps, his lips brushing close to my ear, his beard grazing my skin, making my breath hitch. “Remember how you needed to tell me something from your past, but it was so hard? How you really didn’t want to take yourself back to that dark place in order to have the conversation?”

I stiffen, because I remember exactly how that felt.

I remember the fear, the shame, the way my stomach had twisted into knots. How I wanted to throw up.

“The reason I don’t want to have this conversation,” Ringo continues, “is because this is that sort of conversation.”

Shit.

The pain in his tone slices straight through my chest.

“But I will, Angel.” His grip around me tightens ever so slightly. “For you, I will… if you’ll just let me explain.”

Shit. The agony lacing his tone matches the pain I saw in his eyes moments ago, and all I want to do is turn in his arms and wrap mine around him and never let go.

But that’s my emotions trying to rule me. I need to be smart.

Shifting in his hold, he loosens his grip, allowing me to take a step away to face him, and the moment I see his face, I regret it.

He looks so shattered. Torn. Like he’s barely keeping himself together, and hell, it hurts seeing him like this .

Ringo gestures to the loveseat nearby, so I take in a calming breath, and move over to it, lowering myself down and trying to get comfortable despite the thick tension between us.

Glancing around the space, Ringo’s gaze lands on the low coffee table Lexi jumped over earlier to get to me, and he moves to it, dragging it closer until it’s right in front of me.

Then he sits on it.

It brings us close, his legs manspread, his thighs brushing mine as he rests his forearms on his knees.

God, I’ve missed him.

I don’t understand how that can be. I was with him for a little over a week, yet it felt like a month or longer. Maybe even a lifetime.

For a long beat, Ringo just stares at me. The weight of his gaze makes me squirm, before a warm smile tugs at his lips, but never reaches his eyes.

“When I saw you…” he starts, his voice quiet and strained.

He inhales deeply, as if he needs to brace himself.

Then his gaze flicks to my baby bump, and he clears his throat, preparing to speak again.

“When I saw you pregnant, I didn’t see you anymore, Abs.”

I frown. “I don’t understand.”

He nods, like he expected that. Like he’s already bracing for the next part.

“I didn’t see you, Angel. I saw my ex. Kylie.”

My eyes widen.

Kylie?

His ex-girlfriend.

It takes me a moment to figure out why, but then it clicks.

“She was pregnant? ”

“Yes.” He nods, his gaze dropping to his hands, his fingers clasped so tightly I can see his knuckles turning white.

“She was happy about the pregnancy for about five fucking minutes before she realised how it would affect the lifestyle she lived.”

“How so?” I ask, and those whiskey eyes lift to meet mine again.

“She had to quit using.”

Using?

Oh.

“Drugs?” I ask, just to confirm and he gives me a sharp nod.

“Meth. Coke. When I met her, she just indulged during the occasional party, but somewhere along the way, while I was out on runs, her partying never stopped.” He holds my gaze as he speaks, his voice flat, like he’s forcing himself not to feel the weight of it.

“I dragged her to rehab three times before she fell pregnant. We’d already broken up, but then one night, I hit the whiskey too hard and woke up with her back in my bed.” He clenches his jaw. “I’m a fucking idiot for taking her back, but she claimed to be clean. She seemed better. So I gave her the benefit of the doubt.”

He looks away then, breaking our connection, and I hate it.

I could drown in his eyes.

I know I shouldn’t think like that, but I’m not strong enough to deny how he makes me feel.

Admitting it and acting on it are two different things, though.

“Kylie fell pregnant that night.” His voice grows quieter. “We didn’t find out for a while. By then, I’d already booted her to the curb again because she loved lines of coke more than, well, anything. But when she came crying to me, showing me the positive pregnancy test… fuck, I dunno. It changed something inside me.”

His dark gaze returns to mine then, and I don’t just hear the truth in his words.

I feel it.

“You wanted the baby?” I ask and he nods.

“I wanted the baby. I wanted to be a dad. I wanted to leave the MC, live a simple life with my ma and my sisters. I wanted to do something good for once.”

His shoulders tense before he shrugs, like he’s trying to play it off, but his voice betrays him.

“I had it in my head that even though I couldn’t be a good big brother to Muz, that perhaps, I could be a great dad to my baby.”

My stomach twists and dread begins to settle heavily in my gut.

The fact that I didn’t see a kid around the club… The fact he’s never spoken of one, has me pausing.

Because that can only mean one thing, right?

My voice drops to a whisper.

“What happened?”

I lean forward without realising it, and Ringo takes advantage of my nearness, weaving his fingers with mine.

We’re not really holding hands, but we are connected. Our skin is touching, fingers intertwined at the tips. I should probably pull away, but I just can’t make myself do it.

I’ve missed his touch.

I’ve missed him.

“Kylie couldn’t lay off the gear.” Ringo’s voice cracks a little as he answers my question. “She was skin and bones, much like you’d been when I stole you. Only, her malnourishment wasn’t because she was locked away or denied food. It was because she barely ate and pumped her body full of chemicals to stay high.”

He blows out a frustrated breath and shakes his head, the truth of his story taking him back to a place I know he never wanted to return to.

“I gave her an ultimatum. If she wanted to stay with me and have the baby then she needed to go back to rehab and get clean for good. Otherwise, she needed to get an abortion and leave me the hell alone.”

My stomach twists.

If she aborted the pregnancy, then he wouldn’t have reacted the way he did at seeing me pregnant, right? She wouldn’t have been showing at that early stage.

“She chose to keep it?” I ask, and he nods solemnly.

“Yes. And she agreed to rehab.”

“Did she go?”

“She did.” He exhales, and I don’t like the way his whole body tenses again before he speaks. “She lasted eighteen days and then disappeared. I searched for her. Followed every lead. Heard rumours about her selling her body for cash or drugs, even while her belly grew with my child inside it.”

“Oh my God,” I gasp and his lips thin.

The air shifts and our fingers break apart as he leans back, putting space between us. His muscles ripple with tension, his hands curling into fists as his breathing grows shallow. Sharp, like he’s holding himself back.

I don’t say anything, not wanting to pull him deeper into something he’s barely holding together. I already know this isn’t going to be a good story, and I’m not sure I’m strong enough to hear it.

“I found her one day after a tip off,” he mutters, his tone more chilling than I’ve ever heard it as his hard gaze returns to mine. “She was in the city gardens… passed out.”

He pauses, coughing like he’s trying to clear a huge lump in his throat.

“She was fucking passed out in the bushes while a John was fucking her.”

My heart stops.

Tears burn the backs of my eyes.

I’m not sure I can hear anymore of this.

I don’t want to picture it, but it’s too late. I already am.

“All I could see was the bump where my baby was trying to survive inside her, while her legs were spread and her arms lay lifelessly in the dirt.”

Tears flood my eyes before spilling over, any control on my emotions lost as Ringo blurs in my vision.

“It wasn’t until we got closer that I noticed how deathly pale she was… and that the bump…” He stops. His lips part, but nothing comes out.

I swipe at my tears, angry that they dare fall when this isn’t my pain. It’s his.

He gulps, and blows out a slow, shaky breath, before clearing his throat again, and I brace myself.

“The bump… it wasn’t as big as it should’ve been.”

I stiffen, heat washing over me as fear sinks its claws into my heart.

“JD pulled the guy off her and that’s when… ”

He leaps up, standing abruptly, his movements sharp and jerky like he can’t sit still any longer.

Storming away a few steps, he rakes both hands through his hair, a strangled sound falling from him as he gives me his back.

Pushing to my feet, I hurry to him, reaching out, unsure if he wants to be touched, but unable to stop myself.

“Ringo…” I trail off as my palm presses to his back, not sure what to say.

Should I even say anything?

I really don’t know.

Slowly, Ringo turns to face me, and that’s when I see it.

Tears.

So many tears, falling unchecked from his broken whiskey eyes.

“My little girl was lying in the dirt next to her.” He chokes on a sob, and his words are like a punch to my chest, stealing my breath.

“She was so tiny. So blue. So…” Another heartbreaking sob lurches from him, like he has no more control. “That fucking John had been fucking Kylie while my daughter was still connected to her mother by the umbilical cord.”

Oh.

My.

God.

I can’t even begin to comprehend his words.

But I have to, because this is real.

It happened to him.

It ruined him.

A broken sob rips from my throat as I lurch forward, my arms flying up around Ringo’s neck. He meets me halfway, catching me, lifting me, crushing me into him like he’s afraid to let go.

I get it now.

I understand his reaction to seeing me pregnant.

It was a trigger. His mind dragged him back to that day. That place. That nightmare.

I feel his whole body shudder as he cries, the pain radiating off him in waves so powerful they have the ability to drown me.

Anger.

Loss.

Agony.

I fear I’ll suffocate from it, but I refuse to let it control me.

“I’m so sorry,” I cry, over and over, my hands fisting in his hair, desperate to hold him together, hoping I have the power to keep him from falling apart in an irreparable way.

Minutes pass in tangled grief, our bodies locked, our breaths ragged, our sobs mingling in the space between us.

Eventually, I feel us moving, Ringo carrying me back to the loveseat where he lowers down to get comfy, cradling me to his chest.

I never want to let him go.

The thought kind of terrifies me. I’m sure I used to think the same about Daniel once, and not for the first time, I worry that perhaps I’m someone that falls too hard, too fast, and is too naive to see the red flags until it’s too late.

But I know Ringo’s red flags. He wears his flaws proudly, and here tonight, he’s laid his biggest wound out for me.

Maybe I should stop overthinking and just be in the moment .

Taking in some shuddering breaths, Ringo holds me tighter like he’s grounding himself in my presence.

I nuzzle into his neck, inhaling his spicy, masculine scent.

“JD killed the man.” His voice is quiet but unshakable, rumbling through his chest. “And I…”

Pulling back just enough to see his defeated expression, I take in his nearly empty eyes.

“You don’t have to say anymore, Ringo.” I offer him an out. A lifeline. A chance to tuck his nightmare back away.

But he doesn’t take it.

“She couldn’t live, Abs. Kylie was still breathing, barely. But I just couldn’t risk someone saving her after what she allowed to happen, so I…”

He doesn’t need to finish the sentence.

I already know.

He killed her.

I don’t know if I feel relief or horror.

Maybe both.

Maybe neither.

Maybe… I don’t care.

I already know what kind of man Ringo is. I know he’s killed before. They were people who deserved it.

And Kylie?

Right now, it feels like she deserved it.

Ringo swallows hard, his voice raw as he speaks.

“Afterwards, I used my knife to sever the umbilical cord, and bundled up my baby girl.” His eyes meet mine, pain swallowing every trace of light in them. “There’s no record of her birth, or her death. But I named her Hope.”

Hope .

My breath catches in my throat.

“That’s a beautiful name, Ringo,” I whisper past my tears.

Reaching out, Ringo swipes at my falling tears with his thumb.

“I named her Hope because for a short time, while she was growing inside Kylie’s belly, she was the only thing that gave me hope of a different future.”

Shit.

Fuck.

My heart shatters into a million pieces.

“Her name is even more beautiful now that I know the meaning behind it,” I manage to say between sobs, and a slight tug pulls at the corner of his mouth as he nods in agreement.

This is so heartbreaking. The pain he’s suffered is unthinkable. I can’t imagine it. I don’t want to either.

“I buried Hope under the Jacaranda tree on my property,” he rasps, his voice so thick with emotion it barely escapes, “and ever since I’ve forced myself to forget that Kylie ever existed.”

A part of me wishes he never had to tell me this story. That I didn’t have to hear his pain.

But the other part of me? The part of me that aches for him… well that part is glad for it. Because as horrible as it is, it explains so much about this man.

About the way he carries himself.

About the way he protects those he cares about.

The way he protects me.

As Ringo swipes at my tears again, I reach up and cup his bearded jaw, my thumb brushing over the rough stubble.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, Cameron,” I say softly, using his real name.

A flicker of something crosses his eyes. Something I can’t quite name.

“You’re a good man. You didn’t deserve that. Hope didn’t deserve that.”

“Fuck.” His chest rises sharply, his breath catching before he leans forward and presses his forehead to mine. “You being pregnant doesn’t change the way I feel about you, Angel. Seeing it unexpectedly was a trigger I guess, but now…” His lids fall shut, hiding those intense whiskey eyes.

When he opens them, he pulls back, his gaze shifting to my pregnant belly.

“Fuck, it all makes so much sense now.”

“What does?” I frown.

“You feeling sick. Not being able to handle eating meat. Fuck, even how horny you were.”

I blanch, heat rushing to my cheeks as I scramble from his lap.

“That’s not why I was—”

Ringo smirks, and damn if his eyes don’t look a little lighter than they did a minute ago.

“No? Then what made you so horny, Angel?”

I narrow my eyes at his teasing tone.

“It was the orgies.”

Throwing his head back, his deep laughter fills the skyline, and damn, it’s the best sound in the world.

If all it takes to make him laugh is saying stupid shit, then I’ll do it a thousand times over. If I could erase the pain he’s suffered, and take away even a fraction of the weight he carries, I’d say the dumbest shit on repeat until he never remembered it again.

But I know that’s not enough.

“Okay, sure ,” he draws out the words, patting the loveseat next to him. “It was the orgies.”

Poking my tongue out at him, I move back to sit on the loveseat, tempted to tuck myself deep into the cabana-styled shell of the outdoor furniture and hide away with him forever.

I wish.

God, how I wish.

Angling himself towards me, Ringo reaches up and brushes some of my pink strands behind my ear, his gaze dancing from my eyes to my lips and back again.

“I’m sorry for how I reacted that day, Angel. When I was able to calm down again, you were gone.” He shakes his head in frustration and hooks his finger under my jaw. “Why did you run? Did you think I was going to hurt you?”

The memory hits like a spear lodging itself into my heart.

His furious face. The tension in his shoulders. I’d been sure he was rejecting me.

And then I remember Wendy, and her cutting hate towards me. The slicing words she spoke.

“He doesn’t want damaged goods, Charity Case. You need to fuck right off and take your bastard pregnancy with you. He has no interest in raising someone else’s kid.”

I swallow hard.

He might not be angry at me like I thought, but she was right. Especially after finding out what happened in his past, Ringo doesn’t need this. Me. The worry of an eighteen-year-old, soon-to-be teen mother and her kid.

He doesn’t need me, making his life more difficult.

Wendy was right.

I am damaged goods.

He deserves better.

“No…” I shake my head, pulling myself back to the present and remembering his question.

He wants to know if I thought he would hurt me.

Do I?

“I don’t know.” The truth falls past my lips, my voice barely a whisper.

Shifting back to the coffee table, Ringo moves so we’re face to face again, reaching for my hand and entwining our fingers. The warmth of his palm seeps into mine, grounding me.

“I’d never hurt you, Angel. Never.” His voice is steady. Unwavering.

I nod, because I don’t know what else to do.

I understand why he killed Kylie, but also… he killed her and while I don’t mind given the situation, I have to think about more than myself.

I have to think about my baby.

I’m so far out of my depth with Ringo and the Southern Sadists. We live completely different lives. Come from different walks of life.

It’s not that I think I’m better than him. It’s not that at all.

I’m just… different.

He lives in a MC compound with men who spend their days drinking and fucking, and on some of those days, probably killing.

He’s so much older than me. A real man, and I’m… well despite the fact I’m about to become a mother, I still feel like a naive girl.

And, in a few months, I’ll be having this baby.

A baby that needs a home.

A safe place.

And an MC is not a safe place to raise a child.

As brutal as that truth is to accept, I push down the pain of it and stare into Ringo’s whiskey eyes.

“Thank you for coming to clear the air.”

He frowns, studying me, brows pulling together as he tries to read between the lines. Then, as my words sink in, those furrowed brows shoot up.

“You’re fucking dismissing me?”