Page 38 of Slayin Villain (Royal Bastards MC: Nashville, TN #11)
Rachel
The knock came just as I set the baby book down.
I’d been flipping through pages of cribs and strollers, all those pastel lies that promised everything would be fine as long as you bought the right thing. My mother was in the kitchen humming over a pot of chili, and the soft bubble of country music floated through the house. It was quiet. Safe.
The knock shattered it.
Three firm raps. Like thunder on a clear day.
My pulse kicked up.
I wasn’t expecting a delivery. My mom hadn’t ordered anything either. And no one knew I was here, not anyone from Royal Road, not the girls, not him.
Unless...
No.
I didn’t even let the thought take root.
I crossed the small living room slowly, my breath tight in my chest, one hand resting over the curve of my belly out of habit.
I opened the door.
And there he was.
Villain.
Standing on my front porch, bruised and battered, like a tornado had taken him and spat him out and left him right where I could see him.
His leather cut hung open. His knuckles were scabbed over. His eyes, those baby blue eyes, held something like regret, something like pain, and maybe something worse.
Hope.
“Hey,” he rasped.
I didn’t move. “How did you find me?”
“Facebook,” he said, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. “Saw you tagged. Saw the comments. Figured it out.”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I know.”
A beat of silence stretched between us, the wind pushing through the oak trees around my mom’s house like it was holding its breath too.
“I ain’t here to fight,” he said finally. “Ain’t here to pull you back. I just... needed to see you.”
I stepped outside and pulled the door mostly shut behind me, keeping the screen between us and the warmth of the house.
He glanced down at the small curve of my belly and swallowed.
“Is it... okay?”
“Healthy,” I said. “For now.”
His shoulders sagged with visible relief. “Good.”
Another long pause. Neither of us quite looking the other in the eye.
Then I said it, blunt and cold, because he hadn’t earned my softness anymore.
“You only cared when you thought Ember might be pregnant.”
That got him.
He flinched like I’d struck him.
“I didn’t know what I felt,” he admitted. “I was scared. Angry. Gutted. I thought I ruined everything with you, and when I found out Ember was, hell, I clung to it. Like it might give me purpose again.”
“And what about me, Villain? You had me. You had a woman who trusted you. Who chose you? Who didn’t flinch?”
“I know.” His voice cracked. “And I fucked it all up. Rachel, I was gonna patch you. I had the damn thing in my hand. But then everything with Ember…”
“You chose her.” My eyes stung. “Don’t stand here now pretending you didn’t.”
“I chose to run from you,” he growled, suddenly sounding angry, at himself more than me. “I chose wrong. And I’ve paid for it every goddamn day since.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, hating that I still shook in his presence, hating that part of me wanted to reach out and pull him into me. My voice wavered.
“I gave you everything.”
“I know.”
“I loved you.”
“I still love you.”
That stopped me cold.
I blinked, stunned.
“I’ve never stopped,” he said, stepping forward, not close enough to touch me but close enough to burn.
“You’re the one I think about when I wake up.
The one I dream about when I get drunk. The one I see when I picture that kid’s first steps, first words, first ride on a mini bike. You, Rachel. Not her.”
Tears broke loose.
I turned my face away.
He didn’t move. Just let me cry, let me have the silence.
Then I asked, voice raw, “And what happens the next time you get scared?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, honest and broken. “But I’ll face it with you. If you’ll let me.”
The screen door creaked behind me.
My mama’s voice, soft and curious. “Everything alright, baby?”
I cleared my throat and wiped my face. “Yeah, Mama. Just an old friend.”
Villain looked down at his boots like he’d been called out in church.
I turned back to him. “You need to go.”
“Rachel…”
“Let me finish,” I said.
He bit his tongue.
“I can’t promise anything,” I told him. “Not today. Not tomorrow. Maybe not ever. But if you really want to be a part of this baby’s life... you’re going to have to prove it. Day by day. With actions. Not just words.”
“I will.”
“And if you so much as look at another woman like you looked at me…"
“I won’t,” he swore. “Never again.”
I nodded, eyes still wet. “Then maybe... maybe... we’ll figure this out.”
I turned to go inside.
And then I paused.
“I’m due in September,” I said over my shoulder.
“I’ll be there,” he whispered.
And I tried to believe him.