Page 26 of Heart of Stone (Stoneheart MC #1)

ANDI

T he pounding on my front door matches the pounding in my head.

"Go away," I croak, but whoever it is can't hear me from the bathroom floor where I've been camping out for the last hour.

Adam's pitiful cries echo from his crib in the next room, while Amy's occasional sleepy whimpers remind me I have another sick baby to tend to. Only Abby has been spared so far, though her croup cough still rattles in her chest.

The pounding continues.

I try to push myself up, but my arms shake too much. Whatever stomach bug Amy picked up at the hospital, she’s shared it with devastating efficiency.

A crash from the front of the house has me jerking upright, instantly regretting the movement as my stomach rolls.

"Andi?" Hawk's voice carries down the hall. "Where are you?"

"No," I moan. "Not now."

But heavy boots are already heading my way, following the sound of retching children.

He appears in the bathroom doorway, filling the frame with his massive shoulders. One look at me on the floor and his expression darkens.

"Jesus, babe."

"What are you doing here?" I try to ask, the sound rough from my aching throat.

"Looking after what's mine." He crouches down beside me, gently tucking a stray, limp hair behind my ear. "You doing okay?"

"We're not yours," I protest weakly. I try to summon the energy to get up, to stand, to walk him to the door and kick his ass to the curb.

My stomach decides to lurch instead. I twist, more bile coming up.

He holds my hair as I heave, emptying whatever is left in my stomach.

"Here, little lamb. I got you." He hands me water to rinse my mouth and a damp cloth. He smells of cologne and leather, and looks like a million bucks.

"You should go."

"Mmhmm. Just as soon as I get you into bed."

Adam's cries grow louder, joining Amy's whimpers and my rolling stomach in a symphony of misery.

"They need me." I try to stand again.

"They've got me." He crouches beside me, one large hand settling on my forehead. "You're burning up."

"I'm fine."

"Sure you are." He scoops me up before I can protest, carrying me to my bedroom. "Stay put. I'll handle the kids."

"Hawk—"

"Stay." His tone brooks no argument. "Let me take care of you. All of you."

I want to argue. Want to tell him we don't need him. But Amy chooses that moment to start crying in earnest, and my stomach lurches again.

He is already moving, heading for the kids' room with purpose. I hear him murmuring to Amy, his voice low and soothing. A moment later, Adam's cries quiet too.

I must have dozed because the next thing I know, Hawk is back with water and crackers.

"Small sips," he orders, helping me sit up. "Amy's sleeping. Adam too. Abby's watching cartoons with some juice."

His hand supports my back as I sip the water, strong and steady. He's shed his cut, and his white T-shirt stretches across his shoulders as he leans in to check my temperature again.

"How did you know?" I ask, letting him take the glass. "That we were sick?"

"Duck." He sets the water aside, his hand lingering on mine. "He was worried when you didn't answer his texts about work. Said you never miss checking in."

"You had him spying on me?"

"No." His voice is soft. "He cares about you. All of us do."

I close my eyes against a fresh wave of nausea. "I can't do this right now."

"Do what?"

"This. Us. The conversation we need to have."

"I know." His thumb traces circles on my palm. "I'll be here until you're better, then we can work through what we need to."

I close my eyes, exhausted by the thought of arguing. "Until the next time the club needs you?"

His hand tightens on mine. "I fucked up. I know that. But I'm learning."

"Learning what exactly?"

He brushes hair from my face. "That being strong doesn't mean being alone. The club is family, Andi. And I should have asked them to look after what needed doing rather than ghosting you when you needed me."

I want to argue. Want to tell him it's too late. But his touch is so gentle and cool against my flushed skin.

"I called in reinforcements." He nods toward the hallway where I can hear Ginger's voice mixing with TV sounds. "Steel's making a pharmacy run. Duck's bringing soup."

"Duck doesn't make soup."

His smile is soft. "No, but Maggie does. And she's been wanting an excuse to mother you for months."

Tears prick my eyes. "We don't need?—"

"Yeah, you do." He sits on the edge of the bed, his hand cool against my cheek. "And that's okay. Everyone needs help sometimes."

"Not me." But even as I say it, I know I'm lying.

"Especially you." His thumb brushes away a tear I hadn't realized had fallen. "Let me be here, Andi. Let me prove I can be what you need."

"And what's that?"

He leans in, pressing his forehead to mine. "Someone who puts his family first."

Family.

The word hits like a punch to the gut.

I want to argue. Want to hold on to my anger and hurt. But I am so tired. So damn tired of doing everything alone.

"I can't do this right now," I whisper.

He presses a kiss to my forehead. "Then don't. Rest. I've got this."

And the thing is? I believe him.

I sigh, closing my eyes.

"This doesn't mean I forgive you."

His chuckle is low and filled with bitterness. "Don't worry, I have yet to forgive myself."

I want to ask what he means, but exhaustion pulls me under. I drift off, listening to him moving through the house, taking care of our kids, making things right.

Our kids.

The thought follows me into sleep, warm and terrifying and right.