Page 8

Gabby

“Don’t you have something you need to do?” I murmur as I unlock the door to my room here.

“I’m doing it,” King counters, lugging in all my stuff that Nicole brought.

She brought so much that I’m almost tempted to find out if I’m having a girl or a boy.

That way, I’d know if all these clothes are going to work.

Sure, there are some unisex things like green onesies, some yellow and red.

Same with a few of the gowns that fold down to cover their nails, so they don’t scratch their face.

Still, I don’t know what it says about me, but I’m not going to put my son in a pink Minnie Mouse dress.

I might put my girl in the green striped—clearly boy themed—baseball uniform, complete with a tiny hat.

It’s adorable. “Where do you want these?” he adds, interrupting my thoughts.

“Just stack them up there by the door. I get my car tomorrow and I’m going to haul them to my new place.”

“New place?”

“Yeah. I’m going to move into my apartment early. I already spoke to my new landlord. I pulled the money from my savings. He’s going to meet me with the keys, and I can move straight in.”

“Why are you moving? Wouldn’t it be safer for you and the baby to be around people who care about you?”

“Because that’s not my life. I don’t know what my life is going to be, but I don’t belong here.”

“Gabby, they like you. It’s clear you’re more than welcome at the club.”

“King, you’re no stranger to club life. There are two kinds of women that lives in residence at a clubhouse. Club candy or old ladies. I am neither of those, nor do I have a desire to be.”

“There’s nothing wrong with club life, Gabby.”

“I know that, King. I just know it’s not the life for me.”

He frowns at me, and I can tell my words piss him off.

I don’t want him mad at me. It’s more than that, however.

I don’t want him to think that I look down on his way of life.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

Instinctively, I reach out and put my hand on his bicep, squeezing, even though it doesn’t really work.

His muscles are too big and solid. Still, I hope he can feel my somewhat lame attempt to get his attention.

“I’m damaged goods, King. There are scars inside of me I don’t see ever being healed. I definitely am not made to be a Twinkie. I never was. I could have been happy as an old lady, but there was one part I never liked, a part I could never get used to, a part that turned me into an insecure bitch.”

“Explain it to me,” King invites.

It’s then I notice I’m still holding his arm.

I go to move it away, but King just grabs my hand and sandwiches mine between his and his bicep.

Okay. Message Received. For some reason, King wants my hand connected to him.

I don’t understand why, but I’m not going to question it.

The man has always been intense. I’ve been around enough ultra-alpha-badass-men to know when to pick my battles.

Now is not that time. So, I keep my hand where it’s at with just a shake of my head.

“Dom was always going to club parties. Even when we were together—I mean together , together.”

“That’s not unheard of. Brothers?—”

“I grew up in a club. I know it’s not unheard of. I also know what happens with Twinkies at these parties. I trusted Dom. I did. It may seem like I didn’t, but back then, he told me he loved me. I only had eyes for him, and I believed him.”

“Then what happened? Cause I got to tell you from everything you’ve told me that doesn’t seem to track.”

“There was a Twinkie at the club—Mony. She hated me. It wasn’t because I knew her, I didn’t.

It wasn’t because I was creating shitstorms the likes mortal eyes have never seen until I unleashed bitch-from-the-ninth-level-of-hell Gabby.

Mony didn’t like me purely because she liked Dom.

I didn’t know it at the time, but he had tasted her wares often.

I’m not sure when it began. I know Dom was my first, and he told me I was his, but somewhere along the line a seal was broken, and she got a taste of him. A taste she liked.”

“Fuck, this sounds like junior high shit.”

“It felt like life and death back then. Now, after seeing the darkness that the world holds up-close and personal, I figure you’re right.”

“Is there a point to this?”

“That day, Dom left my bed to go to a party and about an hour later, I received a text from another she-bitch-from-hell Twinkie and Mony’s bestie.

Dom getting a ride of the personal kind from Mony in all her naked glory while sucking off one of the other brothers.

That began my descent into being a monster, when I should have just walked away.

Instead, I called Dom and told him I was sick and asked if he cared to come over because my parents were gone all weekend and I felt so bad.

I laid it on thick and lied out of my ass.

I asked him to swing by a local dive and bring me some of their soup to see if I could hold it down. ”

“Let me guess, he didn’t come by.”

“Worse. I had to leave a voicemail because he didn’t even pick up his phone.

Another hour went by and still no word, so desperation sank inside of me.

Mony used to talk a lot of shit. She called me a Barbie doll men might like on their arm, but I couldn’t satisfy one and that’s where she came in.

I laughed in her face and told her she didn’t know my man.

She returned the favor, saying I was the clueless one.

I let her in my head. I let Dom break my heart.

For the next two months, I’d get weekly porn videos featuring the love of my life and Mony or one of her buddies, sometimes Mony and one of her buddies. ”

“Gabby—”

“And I still didn’t grow a pair and confront him. I still didn’t walk away.”

“Sweetheart …”

“Do you know what I did, King?”

“What?”

“I sought comfort from a man I knew loved me and wouldn’t hurt me. A man who was completely innocent to the game I was playing.”

“T.”

I nod, ignoring the sting of tears, wanting freedom. I’m done crying over my past. D-O-N-E. “So, I have no trouble with the club, but my past is such I know it’s not healthy for me. I am no longer that girl.”

“What girl?”

“The girl desperate for a man to prove my worth. A girl willing to become a monster to keep the man she always loved, no matter what.”

“Do you still love him?” King asks, studying me.

“Not at all, but I will tell you straight up—it still kills me seeing how much he adores and loves Thea, knowing she’ll never taste his betrayal, and seeing proof that she has his love.

It hurts almost as much as knowing I never did.

All I had was a boy who saw me as the perfect accessory that I never had a hope of making happy. ”

“Sweetheart, that says more about him than you.”

“Maybe, but King, the plays I made—the fucked-up choices I made—has nothing to do with him. That was all me and when I look back at the person I was, I know I don’t want that woman anywhere near my child.

I want to breathe clean air. I want to give that air to my child, and I want to do it in a place where no one who looks at me sees the colossal evil that I became. ”

“Then, live in your rental away from the club and do that,” he concedes, but I shake my head.

He drops the hold he has on my hand and turns me so that we’re facing each other.

His hand comes up and slides against the side of my face, as if he’s physically trying to convince me I can do exactly what he says.

But he’s wrong and I know it.

“I can’t. Somewhere down the road, I’ll be invited to a club dinner.

There will be Twinkies there, or some of the old timers, and they will whisper in the background about all the shit I once did.

My child will hear how horrible their mother was, how desperate she became for a man’s love that was never hers to begin with.

I don’t want that, King. I want a fresh start.

I want one for me and, most importantly, for my child.

You have to understand that. I know somewhere that you do. ”

He looks down at me, his dark eyes boring into mine.

I know my face is revealing too much. I can’t stop it.

I haven’t even told King my biggest reason for wanting to leave.

I never want my child to hear that he or she is a product of rape.

Still, I’m giving him enough of the truth that I’m praying he will understand.

He brings his hand up and caresses the side of my face.

It’s sweet and if I wasn’t an emotional basket case at the moment, I’d smile. “I don’t,” he argues.

“ You do . If you didn’t, you’d be back in Virginia.”

He lets out a sigh and I know I’ve won the argument. This time, I do smile at him while I pat his chest. “You should go back out there and commune with your brethren or whatever you badass alpha bikers do. I’m going to take a shower and crash.”

“You didn’t eat,” he points out.

“I’m not really hungry,” I tell him, and it’s the truth. It has been a long day.

“You have to eat, Gabby. If not for you, then you need to eat for your jellybean.”

A startled giggle escapes me. I don’t know why it surprises me King not only remembers what I call my baby but repeats it—but it does. “My stomach is kind of a mess.”

“There’s a shit ton of food left over from the cookout. Is there anything there that catches your fancy?”

“Catches my fancy?” I quote, giving him a smirk.

“Quit being a smartass and tell me what to bring you. You can eat in here while lying down and keeping your feet up.”

“You’re very bossy,” I grumble with a sigh.

“I’ve heard that before. So, what do I bring you?”

I want to tell him just to leave, but I think he might be the first man—outside of my dad—to ever be concerned about me other than T—before I used and hurt him.

Of course, King and I don’t have that type of relationship—which is a good thing.

King deserves someone better than me. Plus, I’m so broken, I never want to let another man near me again. I’m going to give my baby all my love.

When it becomes clear King’s not going to take no for an answer, I give in with a sigh. “Nicole’s banana pudding is good.”

“That doesn’t sound that nutritious, woman.”

“It is. There are bananas in it. That’s healthy.”

“You’re shittin’ me right now, aren’t you, Gabby?”

“I’m just saying if you want me to eat, that’s your best chance,” I argue.

He gives me a disgusted look but ruins it by smiling at me. “I’ll go get you some pudding, then.”

“In the alternative, you can just go back out and enjoy your evening and I’ll go to bed,” I suggest. He shakes his head, making it clear he’s not going to give me that option.

“I’ll be back,” he murmurs like some badass terminator that normally would make me tell him he’s a bad version of Arnold Schwarzenegger.

I don’t. Mostly because he’s not a bad version.

King could never be a bad version of anyone.

He stands alone. The man might be the only true friend I’ve ever had in my life.

I watch him leave and then walk over to my bed and collapse on it.

I feel tired down to my bones. I can’t give into it, though, because I know King is coming back.

So, instead, I allow myself a minute to close my eyes and wonder if there will ever be a time when my life isn’t so exhausting and difficult.

I’m hoping Denver will be different, but I’m not holding onto much hope.

Still, if I can make sure my little jellybean lives a life that’s easy and stress free, I’ll be happy.

I rub my stomach. That’s all that will ever matter to me.