Page 167 of Preacher Man

Because you want to keep her and fuck her and never stop.

It wasn't just that.

Not only that.

He wanted to love her like she’d never been loved before, until she was so fucking drunk on the love he was giving her she wouldn’t doubt a second of what he felt for her.

Preacher recognized something in Ruby that was missing in himself, like he’d taken one look at her and saw the same empty hollowness he had in his chest, she was a complex girl, that was more than evident, had secrets a mile long, sometimes he hadn't even known if she was telling him the truth, they'd turned the corner on that.

"You gonna step in and help any time soon, ass-clown?" He asked the sky, not expecting the stars to part and his big brother's face to look down on him, but knowing Shane it was still a possibility, he always did like showboating. "It's the least you can fucking do, bro, since you went and got yourself killed, don't you think?" Pain lanced under his ribcage, he took a long drag on his smoke, flicking it into the dirt with his thumb, he needed that poison in his lungs like he needed a hole in the head. “Bro. I could do with a hand. This is so far out of my wheelhouse I’m screwing it up for her.”

Anyone with PTSD will tell you it’s not the moments when you’re having an episode it’s all the times before it, worrying when it’s coming, that slight white noise in the ears, was that a flashback about to happen? Those days when every little thing just winds you up causing the biggest moods, was that an episode about to happen? Preacher worried every day that he would come unhinged and wouldn’t have a say in the matter as he cowered on the floor, or god forbid beat the fuck out of some unsuspecting person because he thought he was an insurgent come to kill him.

So, on one hand, he was doing all he could to help bring the kid home, but then was it the better outcome if he wasn’t in the picture if one day he lost his shit around him?

As he’d learned, never decide a life decision on what that fucker PTSD was whispering in its musty voice, it was always wrong, and Preacher wouldn’t cave to the possibility of what ifs, not when he could have something good, something real.Keep going forward, bro.He could almost hear Shane in his ear. Keep going forward.

He did, by walking through the main entrance to the clubhouse, he was in time for the meeting, taking his seat next to Texas. “Rider not here yet?” He asked the money man who seemed distracted, his eyes flipped up. “Hm? Ah, yeah, seems so, haven’t seen him all day.”

“How we looking for the pool?”

Texas drummed his fingers on the table. “Nothing is happening yet. It looks like it will outlive us all.” Preacher grinned. Seemed like.

Only then Rider burst through the door, his stride strong, eyes distracted, gazes around the full table lifted to see the blanched color on their president’s face, his hair out of its usual bun, disheveled like Rider had been dragged through the desert feet first. Preacher looked around at his brothers who grinned and nodded to each other.

His disheveled state was either sex or -----

“Zara’s pregnant.” He blurted before he’d even reached his chair. “With a baby.” He qualified as though it needed adding. Snickers and cheers passed around the closed room.

“Daddy Prez.”

“Hot damn, the boy isn’t shooting blanks!” Another chimed in.

En masse the brothers all congratulated Rider who looked like he was gonna hurl all over the sacred table. Preacher was one of the last to slap him on the shoulder as Rider sat his ass down, green around the cheekbones. “I got no clue how it happened,” he said dazed making every male voice laugh. Preacher cracked a grin and rested both hands on the table, eyeballing his president. “Well, how it happens is, when a man puts his pee-pee inside a woman’s special garden and shoots her full of man confetti----”

“Oh, fuck you, Preach.” Rider laughed scrubbing a hand down his face. Preacher dodged out of the way of the flying gavel, retaking his seat at the other end of the table. “I know how it happened, but fuck. A kid. Zara is sick as a dog again, so let’s wrap this meeting up quick so I can get home to her. And you jackasses can quit your swearing around my kid while we're at it.” He warned with a steely glare.

This shit was too good not to follow on with. “That’s some smart kid if it can hear us from the womb, Prez. I mean, it has me for an uncle, so the brains are there already.”

“Yeah, the Preacher can teach the baby Prez his AB--what comes after that’s?” smirked Lawless. “Don’t worry, Rider, the kid has me. We'll get him into Princeton no probs.”

“That is not comforting, Law.” Deadpanned the father to be.

“When we’ve all dropped our uteruses, there’s more pressing matters.” Snake talked over everyone. “Like who the fuck won the pool?”

“What pool?” A scowling Rider asked.

“Well, bossman.” Preacher took one for the team since everyone had clamped their gums knowing how volatile their president was. Prepared for a fast getaway. “We laid some money out for when you finally realized Z-girl was knocked up with the future ruler.”

Everyone nodded. Brothers, all for one, one for all. Rider couldn’t fight them all. Probably not.

The man in question sat forward, resting his laced fingers on the table, taking the time to streak his blue eyes over everyone.

He was either mentally digging graves for everyone, or his news was still fogging the bossman's brain because it took him an age to speak. “You knew?” blue eyes narrowed like a snake ready to snap. But then he smirked. “You piss-brains could have given me a heads up!”

“No swearing in front of our nephew, Prez!” fired back Grinder. “You do know no more bump n grind for you, right? He’s gonna be a little cockblocker.”

“May your dick rest in peace.”