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CHAPTER SIX

Everly

The whipped cream and ginger ale feel like props in a play I'm no longer sure I'm acting in.

Regnor's hand rests on my lower back as we enter the clubhouse, and the weight of it feels different now.

After that kiss.

After Dylan.

After everything .

The party's in full swing—kids running around with cookies, Christmas music mixing with classic rock, the smell of cinnamon and pine almost masking the ever-present leather and beer.

But something shifts when we walk in.

Conversations stutter.

Eyes track our movement.

Gunnar—Vail and Vanir's teenage son—is holding court near the pool table with some of the younger crowd.

"I'm telling you, they were really going at it," he's saying, animated with the importance of having gossip. "Like, against Fern's car and everything. Thought they were gonna?—"

He spots us and stops mid-sentence, face flushing red.

But the damage is done.

Everyone in earshot is now looking at us with new interest, and I see the exact moment the whispers start spreading like wildfire.

"Here's your whipped cream," I tell Fern, handing over the grocery bag like nothing's wrong.

Like my whole world didn't just tilt off its axis in the cereal aisle.

Like everyone isn't staring.

She takes it, but her eyes are reading my face like a map. "Everything okay?"

"Fine," I lie.

"Mmm-hmm." She glances at Regnor, whose hand hasn't left my back. "Why don't you go sit down, honey? You look a little pale."

I am pale.

I can feel it, the blood draining from my face as the reality of what's about to happen sets in.

Everyone's going to know.

My father's going to know, and not in the way I had originally hoped.

Regnor murmurs, guiding me toward a quieter corner. "Come on."

But we don't make it.

"Everly." Astrid appears at my elbow, concern written all over her face. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

I glance at Regnor, who nods. "I'll grab you that ginger ale."

Astrid pulls me toward the hallway, away from the main party, but not quite private.

Just quiet enough for real conversation.

"What the heck happened?" she asks without waiting for a second. "Ingrid just got a text from her friend who works at the grocery store. Said there was some kind of confrontation? With Dylan? Then Gunnar is telling all sorts of stories."

My stomach churns, and not just from morning sickness. "How does news travel so fast in this town?"

"Small town, big mouths." She touches my arm gently. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"No. Regnor was there." I wrap my arms around myself. "Astrid, I’m pregnant, and Dylan knows about the baby."

Her eyes widen. "Shit. I don’t know whether to congratulate you or say I’m sorry. What are you going to do? Is Dylan the father, or is it…" She doesn’t have to finish her question.

I know where she’s going with it.

I take a shaky breath, believing the lie I’m telling everyone. "Regnor’s the father. He even said it publicly. We've been together for months."

"Is it?" The question is gentle, no judgment. "His, I mean?"

The lie sits ready on my tongue, but looking at Astrid's concerned face, I can't voice it.

My silence is answer enough.

"Oh, honey," she breathes. "This is complicated as heck."

"That's one word for it. You’re the only person I’m trusting with the truth, Astrid, so please take this to your grave with you.

No one else can know." A hysterical laugh bubbles up.

"My boyfriend just claimed my abusive ex's baby in front of half the grocery store, and now everyone here is about to find out, including my father, who specifically forbade any of the guys from touching me. "

"Regnor's a good man," Astrid says carefully. "If he's claiming the baby?—"

"He's trying to protect me. But Astrid, when my dad finds out..."

The smell hits me like a physical blow—someone's brought out platters of food, the mixture of meats and cheeses and something with vinegar turning my stomach inside out.

"Oh no," I whisper.

"Bathroom," Astrid says immediately, recognizing the look.

But it's too late.

My stomach rebels completely, and I barely make it to a trash can before I'm violently sick.

The party noise dims as everyone turns to stare.

And of course— of fucking course —my father chooses that moment to walk over.

"Gods," Kraken mutters, handing me napkins someone passes him. "What's wrong with you?"

I straighten, wiping my mouth, trying to find words.

But he's already reading my face, seeing the guilt I can't hide.

"Don't tell me you're pregnant on top of this other shit." His voice is flat, resigned, like he's joking.

Except I can't deny it.

Can't make my mouth form the lie.

The silence stretches too long.

"Everly?" Now there's an edge to his voice. It’s sharp, dangerous, like he’s begging me to lie to him. "Tell me you're not pregnant."

"Dad—"

"Who?" The word cracks like a whip. His eyes scan the room, and I see the exact moment he notices Regnor moving toward us, protective stance already in place. "No. No fuckin’ way."

"Kraken," Regnor starts, but my father's already moving.

The punch comes fast, brutal, snapping Regnor's head to the side.

He doesn't fight back, doesn't even raise his hands to defend himself.

He just takes it.

"You've been fuckin’ my daughter behind my back?" Dad's voice carries across the entire clubhouse.

The music stops.

Everyone freezes.

"Dad, stop!" I try to get between them, but Astrid holds me back.

"I told every single man here," Dad continues, advancing on Regnor. "Every. Single. One. Hands off my daughter. Let her have a normal life. And you—" Another punch, this one to the gut. Regnor doubles over but still doesn't fight back. "You couldn't keep your dick in your pants?"

Regnor grits out, straightening. "I assure you, it's not like that."

"How long?" Dad demands. "How fuckin’ long have you been sneaking around with my little girl?"

"I'm not a little girl!" The words explode out of me. "I'm twenty-one years old, Dad. I'm an adult. I make my own choices."

"How. Long?" He doesn't even look at me.

"Four months," Regnor lies smoothly. "We've been together for four months."

"Four months." Dad laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Behind my back. In my house. Under my nose."

"Not in your house," I say. "We were careful?—"

"Careful?" He whirls on me. "You call getting knocked up careful? You call sneaking around with a man almost twelve years older than you careful?"

"Kraken." My mother's voice cuts through. She moves between us, ever the peacemaker. "That's enough."

"Enough? Our daughter is pregnant by a man I specifically?—"

"Our daughter is pregnant, period," Mom interrupts. "Yelling about it won't change that." She turns to me, and her eyes are so much kinder than I deserve. "Are you okay? Is this what you want?"

The question breaks something in me.

When's the last time someone asked what I wanted?

"Yes," I whisper, then stronger. "Yes. Regnor's good to me. He takes care of me."

"Takes care of you?" Dad scoffs. "He knocked you up!"

I can’t hold back anymore. I unleash all of my fury, screaming at him. "Can you just fucking stop it already?!"

"Kraken, with all due respect, you know I’m a good man," Regnor steps forward, moving me behind him slightly. "I'm gonna be here to take care of my child. I'm claiming your daughter. That's all that matters."

Dad lunges for Regnor again, but this time Emil and Oskar grab him, holding him back.

"What the fuck happened to Dylan?" he roars. "Weren’t the two of you dating?"

"You want her with some abusive douchebag? I'm protecting Everly," Regnor says calmly. "And our baby. Because that's what you do!"

"Oh come on, this shit is ridiculous!"

"If you want to think that, go ahead." Regnor's voice goes rigid. "She's mine now. Both of them. And if you can't accept that, that's your problem, not ours."

"Everly." Mom touches my arm. "Dylan... did he hurt you? Is that why you're with Regnor now?"

"He's dangerous," I say quietly, letting them think what they want about the timeline.

"When we ran into him at the grocery store, he found out about the baby. Threatened to... to force me to get rid of it. But that’s not even the worst of it.

He said he had connections, could hurt Bjorn at his physical therapy.

Could hurt the kids here." My voice cracks. "Regnor's the only reason I'm safe."

"We could have protected you," Dad says, but some of the rage has left his voice. "The club?—"

"The club couldn't protect me from someone I was willingly with," I point out. "You'd have had to know there was a threat first. And I was too scared to tell anyone."

"But not too scared to fuck around with Regnor?"

"Kraken," Mom warns.

"We weren't fucking around," Regnor says. "I love her."

His words come out of nowhere.

He's never said that before.

"You love her." Dad's voice drips sarcasm. "How convenient. And when did this great love develop? While you were knocking her up behind my back?"

"Does it matter?" I step around Regnor, facing my father directly. "He's here. He's claiming me, stepping up. He's protecting me and our child from an ex who wants to hurt me on a daily basis. What more do you want?"

"I want you safe," Dad says. "I want you happy. I want?—"

"Then let me have this!" The words come out sharp, desperate. "Let me choose who I'm with. Let me decide what's best for our baby. Stop treating me like I'm still a toddler whose father killed his wife and himself, somehow sacrificing me in that horrible murder suicide!"

That lands hard.

I see it in his face—the memory of finding me at their house, promising to take care of me, to give me the normal life my parents couldn't.

"You're making a mistake," he says finally.

"Maybe. But it's my mistake to make."

Vail steps forward from where she's been watching. "For what it's worth, I knew about the pregnancy. Saw them together. He's good with her, Kraken. Gentle. Nothing like?—"

She doesn't finish, but we all hear it. Nothing like Dylan.