Page 23 of Heart of Stone (Stoneheart MC #1)

ANDI

I sit in the uncomfortable plastic chair beside Abby's bed, watching my tiny niece—my daughter in every way that matters—breathe with the help of an oxygen mask. Her dark curls are damp with sweat, her little chest rising and falling rapidly.

Croup, they'd said. A bad case that had come on suddenly in the middle of the night.

I run my thumb over her small, soft hand, my chest tightening as panic gnaws at the edges of my composure.

I'd woken up to her choking cough, the sound so sharp and unfamiliar it sliced straight through the fog of sleep.

There hadn't been time to think—only to act.

I'd grabbed the kids, bundled them into my car, and driven to the hospital in nothing but sweatpants and adrenaline.

We'd had to pull over halfway there, her lips blue. I'd held her, trying to keep all three kids calm while waiting for an ambulance. An ambulance that finally came to take us all the way.

The clubhouse had been empty. Hawk was nowhere, the prospects had scattered to God knows where, and I'd been alone.

Again.

Just like always.

I should've been used to it by now—should've known that, when things fell apart, no one would be there to catch me.

That is the hardest part to admit, the thing that burns hot and unforgiving in my chest. I can't rely on anyone. I never have been able to, not really. It doesn't matter how much they promise, how many sweet lies they whisper when the world is quiet and the sky is dark.

When it comes down to it, I am the one who has to hold everything together, the one who has to keep Abby safe.

And I will.

Because I have no other choice.

I've always handled things myself. It looks like it's time to admit that the last few weeks have been a blip. A false sense of security.

I won't make that mistake again.

Amy is curled up asleep in the chair beside me, exhausted from crying. Adam dozes in his carrier at my feet. Four AM and I am alone with three kids in a hospital, one of them fighting to breathe.

I'd called him. God help me, I'd called him over and over, convinced he'd see my messages and swoop in light a knight in shining armor.

God, I am pathetic.

Club business had come first. Just like it always will.

"Hey." Ginger appears in the doorway, two cups of terrible hospital coffee in her hands. "Any change?"

I shake my head, accepting a cup. "The doctor dropped by and said the steroids are helping. Her oxygen levels are better."

"That's good." She perches on the arm of my chair, her hand settling on my shoulder. "Steel's outside if you need anything."

I manage a weak smile. The prospect had shown up an hour after we'd arrived, stationed himself in the hallway like a guard dog. He'd even managed to find a stuffed unicorn in the gift shop for Amy.

"Tell him he's off duty," I say, turning away. "We don't need a watchdog."

"Oh, honey." Ginger squeezes my shoulder. "Steel's not here as a prospect. He's here because he cares about these kids. And you."

I swallow hard against the lump in my throat. "I shouldn't have waited. I should have brought her in as soon as I heard her coughing. But I thought... I thought I could handle it."

And the medical bills. Insurance hasn’t added them yet. I have no idea how I'll pay for this—or for the tests they'd had to run on Amy and Adam.

God, this could financially ruin us.

"You did handle it. You got her here. She's getting better."

I swallow. "But what if?—"

"No what ifs." Her voice is firm. "She's going to be fine. And you're not alone."

Except I am. Because the one person I'd started to believe would be there for me is still missing in action.

"I can't do this anymore," I whisper.

"Do what?"

"Pretend." I gesture vaguely. "Pretend we're a family. Pretend he cares. Pretend any of this is real."

"Andi—"

"No." I straighten in my chair, decision crystallizing. "I need to stop lying to myself. These kids need stability. They need someone they can count on, not..." I trail off, the words stuck in my throat.

"And you don't think Hawk is that someone?" Ginger's voice is gentle. "Everyone makes mistakes."

"Yeah." I watch Abby's chest rise and fall. "But not everyone has three kids who need them."

She is silent.

"I need you to do me a favor," I say quietly.

"Name it."

"Can you have Steel help me move our stuff back to the house? While Hawk's still out?"

She’s quiet for a long moment. "You sure about this?"

"No." I manage a weak laugh. "But I'm sure I can't watch my kids get hurt waiting for someone who's never going to put us first."

"Okay." She pulls out her phone. "I'll call in some help. We'll have you moved before sunrise."

I reach up, squeezing her hand where it still rests on my shoulder. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet." She stands, heading for the door. "This is going to hurt like hell before it gets better."

"I know." I turn back to Abby, watching her sleep. "But I'd rather hurt than keep hoping for something that's never going to happen."

Ginger pauses in the doorway. "He does care about you, you know."

"I know." My voice cracks slightly. "He just doesn't care enough."

She leaves me then, the soft sound of her boots fading down the hallway. In the quiet, I listen to the steady beep of monitors, to Amy's soft breathing, to Adam's occasional snuffle.

My kids. My responsibility. My choice.

When Hawk finally shows up—and he will, I know he will—I have to be strong enough to stick to that choice.

Even if it breaks what's left of my heart.

I must have dozed off in the uncomfortable hospital chair because the next thing I know, a rough hand is brushing hair from my face.

"Andi."

I jerk awake, disoriented until my eyes focus on Hawk crouching beside me. He looks rough—dusty leather, shadows under his eyes, worry etched into every line of his face.

Too little, too late.

"Don't touch me," I whisper, pulling away.

His hand drops. Behind him, Ginger gathers Adam who's begun fussing, her expression grim.

"Can we talk?" Hawk asks quietly. "Outside?"

I glance at Abby, sleeping peacefully now that her breathing has stabilized.

"I've got them," Ginger says softly. "Go."

The hallway is too bright, too sterile. I lean against the wall, exhaustion making my legs shake. Or maybe that's the anger.

God, looking at him hurts. There is so much anger in me. So much helpless fucking rage.

I am angry at him, at me, at this fear that won't quit.

"How is she?" Hawk asks.

"Now you care?"

"Of course I care?—"

"No." I cut him off. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to show up now and act concerned when I called you seventeen times, and you couldn't be bothered to answer once."

"I was handling club business."

"And I was handling a baby who couldn't breathe!" The words come out as a harsh whisper. "She was turning blue, Hawk. Her lips were blue, and Amy was screaming, and Adam wouldn't stop crying, and I needed you. I fucking needed you."

He reaches for me. "Babe?—"

"Don't." I step back. "Don't 'babe' me. I get it now. I see exactly where we stand in your priorities list."

"That's not fair. I didn't know?—"

“Because you didn’t pick up your fucking phone!" I laugh, the sound raw and far too broken. "You really want to talk about fair, Hawk? These kids have already had their parents abandon them. I won't let them go through that again."

"I made a mistake. I'm not abandoning anyone."

"No? Then where were you?" Each word feels like glass in my throat. "Where were you when I was begging them to help her breathe? When Amy wouldn't stop crying? When I had to make medical decisions alone?"

He flinches. "I'm here now."

"Yeah. Now. When your club business is handled." I wrap my arms around myself. "That's not good enough. We need someone who puts us first. We deserve that. Those kids deserve that."

Even if I don't.

"Andi, please?—"

I step away from him. "I've already had Steel move our stuff back to the house."

He rears back. "You what?"

"You heard me." I lift my chin despite the tears burning the back of my throat. "I won't do this anymore. I won't let these kids think they come second. Not again."

"They don't?—"

"They do. They always will." I swipe angrily at my eyes. "And that's fine. It's who you are. The club comes first. I knew that going in. I just... I thought..." I shake off the wishes I know better than to make. "But I was wrong."

"Don't do this." His voice is rough. "Let me explain. We can fix this."

"No. We can't." I turn toward the room. "Because next time it'll be the same thing. Club business will come up, and you'll have to choose, and it won't be us. It's never going to be us."

"Andi—"

I pause in the doorway. “For what it’s worth, she’s going to be okay.”

“Andi, please, let me?—”

"Goodbye, Hawk."

I walk away—back to my kids, back to the life I'd chosen. I don't look back.

I can't.

Because if I do, I might break. And I can't afford to break. Not when I have three kids who depend on me.

I have to do what is right. No matter how much my heart hurts.