Page 39 of Zeppelin (Satan’s Angels MC #9)

“I can show you where the bathroom is,” Maggie offers. “I’ll point out the private room so you both know where it is. You take all the time you need. When you’re ready, you can just go to the front desk, and they’ll take care of everything.”

I’m so grateful that a few more tears trickle down my cheeks.

They’re so, so hot. Zeppelin helps me up, not carefully, not like he’s trying desperately to avoid getting covered in puke.

He splays his big hand over my back protectively.

If I wasn’t so nasty, I’d curl into him and let him hold me.

I want those strong arms wrapped around me more than anything.

Fuck, I’ve missed him.

I’ve wanted another night together more than I can say. Not for the sex. Or at least, not just for the sex. It was that feeling of being close to someone. Of being stripped down so bare that it was horrifying and uncomfortable and unexpectedly beautiful.

I told him I have feelings for him, and I do. All sorts of feelings.

I hurt him once.

I can’t risk doing that again. Not until I can absolutely sort them out.

I keep telling myself that, but it hasn’t changed the fact that I miss him.

I crave his closeness. I want his crass jokes, his dry sense of humor, his presence .

I want his body close to mine, his calloused hands brushing my bare skin, his passion that swings from almost hesitant to outright bossy and wild.

I want his heart beating next to mine. I want to listen to him breathing while he’s asleep and I’m not.

I’d even take throwing up in front of him again because at least he’d be beside me.

I want him in my good moments, in the moments charged with desire, in the moments I need him because I can’t do something without him, in the moments when I have everything perfectly handled, but I also want him in my bad moments, when I’m at my lowest, when I don’t even want me seeing me, and that says something.

It says everything .

Zeppelin keeps his hand on my back while Maggie walks us past the door to the small private room, and then to the bathroom. She sets the clean towels and the sheet inside for me. I’m so grateful and she’s so sweet, but after she leaves, it’s Zeppelin I turn to.

Just like when we talked at the market, when I snuck my finger around us and held on for dear life for just a moment, it’s like we’re the only people here, and in the rest of the world.

“I’ll be right back. Just give me twenty minutes. There should be something close by that I can get you. Gum and all.”

“Oh god, don’t worry about that. It’s not important.”

“Yes it is. Because you want it, it’s more than important.”

My insides hurt with something way past nausea and embarrassment. I’m thoroughly convinced that no one else sees this man the way I do. They have no idea how kind he is and that’s such a travesty.

He has my purse, since he gathered it up from under the chair he was sitting on. I motion for him to take it with him, since it has the truck keys and registration in it, as well as money.

“I don’t need that,” he protests. “I’ve got it.”

I’d like to argue about this, but I’m currently still covered in throw up and would very much like to rectify the situation with a sponge bath and a change of clothes.

“Take it anyway. For the keys and stuff.”

He nods tightly. Unexpectedly, he lightly grasps my chin between his fingers and tilts it up. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay here?”

“About as okay as I can be.”

He turns his face and grazes his lips over my cheek.

His beard tickles, but his lips are so, so soft, and my heart nearly leaps out of chest. I swallow convulsively as I watch him go, my leather purse slung over his shoulder.

I wouldn’t exactly have called Zeppelin secure in anything, but that was before I knew him.

I count the moment we stood on the sidewalk that night outside the clubhouse, as moment one. Zeppelin should have been drunk to the point of obliterated, but he wasn’t. He was sober. Feeling it all. Letting the pain take him apart silently.

Is it still?

I let myself into the bathroom and strip out of my disgusting clothes.

I’m used to pretty much sponge bathing at this point, so wetting one of the small towels and running it over my legs and arms, belly and breasts and back and neck isn’t a big deal.

I don’t have a bag to put them in, so I rinse my clothes out the best I can in the sink and roll them tightly into a towel like I do with a wet bathing suit.

I splash water on my face and rinse the ends of my hair because they dipped into the splash zone.

I wrap myself up in the sheet after, knotting it at the front. I would have taken even a hospital gown at this point, but I guess they don’t have those here? The sheet is more than adequate and at least it’s not made of paper like what you get at the doctor’s office.

I gather up the towels and my clothes and take it all with me.

Thank goodness no one is in line to use the bathroom and doesn’t have to witness my strange appearance. I duck into the side room without anyone seeing me.

It’s another exam room but half the equipment is missing, so maybe it’s no longer in use. I slide into a stiff black chair in the corner and wait.

I wonder when they’re going to give me photos. I want to share them with my family, but I also want Zeppelin to have some. When did I start thinking about him almost as quickly as I think about telling my mom or sister something?

I think about that night at the club again.

Overnight, Zeppelin aged twenty years. He has his whole club family, but it was never more clear that he’s very alone.

Do they understand him? Does he let them in?

He might want to belong there, but he holds himself back.

He doesn’t do that with me. Sometimes, I think I get to see the parts of him that no one but Jack did, and maybe even more than that because the nature of our relationship is so different.

In just the shortest time, he’s given me so much.

What has that cost him? Why did I never ask myself that before?

Even though it’s been an impossibly short amount of time, the door cracks open and Zeppelin sticks his head in like he wants to check that I’m decent.

He grins at me and thrusts himself quickly through the door, shutting it tightly behind him.

He holds out a bunch of bags. Some of them are ornate and have a distinct boutique quality about them.

The clinic is in a part of the city where there are a bunch of strip malls with those kinds of stores.

Each one is the kind of place where you pay hundreds for a dress and ten dollars for a small coffee.

I can’t say anything because I’m so overwhelmed with gratitude and guilt.

Zep must see that because he drops the bags and pulls out the most gorgeous floral wrap dress that I’ve ever seen.

It’s dainty and flowy. I know the name on the bag.

It’s the kind of boho inspired store without the thrifty prices.

I’ve only ever dreamed of being able to afford something from there.

The dress is a light pink with a burst of flowers embroidered all along the ruffle hem.

“Oh my god,” I breathe. “Zep, seriously!”

It might just be the lighting in here, but the tips of his ears turn pink. “I didn’t want to buy you pants because I wasn’t sure about the size. This is adjustable. You could wear it anytime.” He produces a soft, fuzzy pink cardigan from the bag. I wanted you to have something warm.”

I breathe, my throat so clogged with tears that I can barely push even that much out. “It’s perfect. Thanks.”

He lifts the flap on my purse and pulls out a package of gum. “I almost forgot. There’s this too. I got you mint tea as well from the coffee shop. It’s in the car.”

If I wasn’t so gross, I swear that I’d rush across this room and fling myself against him. I’d hug him and kiss him and—

No. I was the one who said I needed time. Why does it feel so natural to do that? To want to be close to him? I can’t confuse things again. I’ve seen his pain, and I don’t want to cause more.

“I’ll just leave you with this and I’ll step out so you can get changed. You can put your clothes in the bag? I asked for an extra large one just for that.”

My god. This man. He thought of things that I wouldn’t have, even if I had hours and wasn’t rushed the way he was. How he even got back here so fast, I have no idea.

He slips out of the room, but I can see the shadow of his boots under the door crack, like he’s standing guard.

The dress is heaven against my skin, the fabric so light and airy. The sweater is the softest thing I’ve ever felt in my life. I don’t have a mirror, but even in my current state, I feel like a princess putting the wildly expensive clothes on.

Somehow, Zeppelin picked out my dream outfit for me, and it fits perfectly.

His eyes shine when I step out of the room. I folded up the sheet and towels and I’ll tell the people at the front about them. My wet clothes are in the huge shopping bag.

“Fuck, Ginny,” he literally grunts, breathing sharply between the two words.

He might as well have said that I’m the most beautiful woman on the planet, and I know.

There’s no single doubt in my mind now, that what my sister said was correct.

Somehow, he’s falling. I have all the feelings.

The friendly ones and the ones beyond that.

It’s happening. They’re real. I want to tell him, but I’m scared.

It’s complicated. The timing still doesn’t feel right.

“Thank you,” I whisper, lowering my eyes to the floor. “For everything, Zep. You’re so good to me.”

His boots shift and shuffle in place. I know that I’ve made him uncomfortable. It was my words, but also my tone. I might as well just have told him everything that’s in my heart.

“Uh- we’ll go to the front. I have paperwork I have to sign for insurance, and I want to see if they have our photos.” Not mine. Ours .

Just like this baby isn’t solely mine.

His choked inhale is watery. If I look at his face, I know I’m going to start crying again, so I don’t.

I lead the way for us, thinking about insurance and paperwork and how I’m going to have to pay out of pocket besides.

I’m prepared. I have savings. I’ve got this.

Having a baby and my whole life changing is terrifying, but at the moment, planning for it and all those logistics, is much easier than sorting out anything else.