by Evelyn Glass
“Yeah.” Her voice came out muffled against his chest.
“What’s wrong?”
She shrugged and didn’t offer more. He stroked his fingers through her hair lazily as he thought.
“Well I can go get you something if you aren’t feeling good,” he said. “I’ll go get it and be back in a flash.”
She mumbled something.
“What was that?”
“I said I can go with you,” she said, lifting her head up to speak more clearly. But her voice was laced with something—exasperation. Like the amount of words she’d had to speak today was already too great.
“I’ll go get dressed,” he offered, rolling out of bed. She lay on top of the bed like she’d been flattened. He smirked to himself as he tugged his jeans on. When she didn’t make a move by the time he was dressed, he said, “I can go for you, babe.”
“No.” She pushed herself up, scooting out of bed. “I’m coming.”
She dressed quickly, in much plainer clothes than what was common for her. Damn, Gidget must really be sick. There was something thrilling about it, though--seeing her at a time like this. It was more intimate. Made him feel more like they were…a thing. Something that might last outside the four walls of this hotel.
She tugged a ballcap down onto her head, wisps of blonde hair escaping. In sweats and a baggy t—shirt, she followed Butch out of the motel room, shuffling behind him like an invalid.
“You sure you good to go?” He swung a leg over his bike, watching her carefully. Something was seriously off. But her voice wasn’t rasping like she had a sore throat, and she didn’t look flushed from fever. She hadn’t been in the bathroom long enough for him to think she was puking up her guts, or shitting her brains out. Besides, the walls were thin; disgusting as it was, he would have heard her. But hell, he wasn’t a doctor. It could have been anything.
“I’m ready.” She scooted onto the bike behind him, clutching onto him tightly. He revved the bike and they sped off, the early morning air striking cool against his cheeks. The morning was gray and overcast, somehow appropriate for how Gidget had woken up. And even though she was mopey and sluggish, she was still cute as hell. There was something nice about taking care of her. He wanted to get her medicine and tuck her into bed, or whatever other sickening sweet shit he could do for her.
That was the weirdest part, too—he wanted to do those things. She wasn’t even asking him.
The ride to the pharmacy was quick. He parked the bike near the sliding door and they walked in. A bright, gleaming store greeted them, filled with aisles of stuff. Gidget blinked a few times, like she didn’t know where to start.
“Come on, babe.” He slung his arm over her shoulders, guiding her toward the far wall. A sign hung overhead that said Decongestants. “Let’s go over here.”
She went rigid under his arms, stilling though he tried to lead her forward.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, searching her face. She averted her gaze, tugging at the bill of her ballcap.
“I know what I need,” she said with a sigh, and stormed off. A chilly wake followed her, one that told him to back off. He watched her weave down the aisle, confusion wringing him into knots.
Staring after her, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and then scuffed down the first aisle, taking a good hard look at the miscellaneous shit for sale.
Space. That’s all he could give her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Gidget stared at the wall of products sitting before her, tears blurring her vision. This was so fucked. She couldn’t control these careening emotions to save her life, and there was only one cause that made sense, one thing that it could be.
She’d woken up feeling like a dump truck had taken up residence on her skull. Exhaustion that wrung every last ounce of energy from her bones. A headache that instantly prompted tears. Poor Butch didn’t deserve the brunt of this, but she didn’t know what to do, how to be. She just fucking needed to be alone. She needed to go home. She needed to be at her clubhouse.
But Butch is home too.
A few tears snaked out and she wiped them away angrily. Butch was home now. And that made this whole thing even worse. She couldn’t go back to the clubhouse without him there, but she couldn’t be with him either. She already knew exactly what he’d say if she were to try to bring up these feelings. Biker guys were all the same. Even her dad had cheated on her mom, found it impossible to stay loyal to one woman for any length of time.
Which was so ironic, because her dad would have shot anyone who dared cheat on her. One of his many double standards. He never considered himself a great man, but he knew that his baby’s boyfriend needed to be better than great.
She drew a shaky breath, focusing on the rectangular boxes in front of her. Why were there so many choices? The process was simple: pee on a product that tells me if my life is becoming a shit show or not. But there were pink ones and blue ones and clear-read ones and lined ones and…
Gidget swallowed a wave of tears. Fuck it. She closed her eyes and reached out, grabbing the first one her fingers brushed. She peeked through one eye—clear line test system. Good enough. She tucked it under her arm and headed for the end of the aisle.
Butch couldn’t see this. That much was for certain. But he was being so sweet and helpful, she couldn’t imagine him not being curious about what she was purchasing, what was really wrong with her. And what could she even say? Panic sliced through her, making her throat tighten. This was so fucked.
She saw the back of him as he turned into an aisle a few rows down. Then she peeked around, trying to locate the register. She didn’t even want him to know she’d bought anything, much less make up some horrible lie about what it was. So she’d buy it and hide it.
And then what?
Her heart pounded as she headed to the register, ideas thrumming though her. Desperate ideas. Spinning in circles like a lame bird flapping its wing. The only thing clear to her was she needed to be alone. She didn’t want to leave Butch behind, but what choice did she have right now? There was no place to be alone, to stare at this text with the knowledge that she had silence and time on her side.
She couldn’t handle questions. She couldn’t handle curiosity right now. She needed to fucking escape.
Her head throbbed as she slunk up to the register, kept her head down while the disinterested employee rang her up. Time slowed to a crawl. Every hair on her body stood on end as she waited for Butch to saunter up, to intrude and discover what she was buying.
If I’m pregnant then what?
The question ran like a marquee in her head, pushing bile into her throat. This just wasn’t the time. Not with so many unknowns, not with so much instability. Desperation flooded her again and her knees went weak. What a cluster fuck of a morning. Her breath caught in her throat as the employee handed her change. She shoved the test into the front pocket of her hoodie and spun on her heels, bolting for the door.
She hadn’t spotted Butch, and it was better if she didn’t. She didn’t want to look at him and doubt this plan. She’d second-guess herself immediately and right now it was all about self-preservation. This was his city---he’d find a way back to the motel. For right now, she needed to get to that quiet, safe space and see the results.
The doors slid open and Gidget bolted toward the bike, adrenaline streaking through her. She’d never stolen a brother’s bike before, but she knew exactly where the spares were kept. She fumbled with the fake panel on the bike and tore the key out of hiding, swinging her leg over the seat as she struggled to make it start. The bike rumbled to life and her insides crumpled. What the fuck are you doing?
But it was too late now, too late to doubt or change her mind. She popped the kickstand and backed the bike out of the spot, glancing toward the doors. Don’t come out Butch. Please don’t come out and see me do this.
Chest heaving, she revved the bike and it lurched forward. Butch’s bike was heavier than hers, much manlier than wha
t she was used to maneuvering, but she balanced out quickly and zipped around to the other edge of the parking lot. She paused at the entrance to the street, dizziness pressing in at the edges of her vision, making everything seem swirly and strange.
Just go. She pushed off and zoomed ahead, merging into traffic before her rational mind could catch up and slap her on the wrist.
And she didn’t dare look behind her. She couldn’t bear to see Butch’s face right now. Not until she took this test and got shit sorted.
Guilt lashed at her as she maneuvered through traffic, driving blindly toward a destination she wasn’t even sure of. Where should she go? The motel seemed out of the question—the mere thought of that place seemed oppressive and suffocating. But where? She peeled off onto the highway, joining the northbound stream in the gray morning, settling into the pleasant hum of the engine as the wind buffeted her, making her feel buoyant and light despite the heavy emotions weighing her down.
She drove and drove, zoning out so that she didn’t even know how much time had passed. Maybe she’d driven back to Mississippi, though that seemed unlikely. When her bladder began to ache she pulled off at the next exit. A truck stop diner shone like a beacon in the dreary haze, bright yellow signs beckoning her near.
Semis lined the parking lot, and a few motorcycles piqued her interest. Maybe some brothers are near. But that couldn’t be right—she was still hours and hours from home. The thought wrenched her chest, reminding her of the sad fact. She missed home. She missed the clubhouse. And all she wanted right now was the dark comfort of her bedroom, the distant murmur of voices in the den, the clang and clatter of her club brothers using the kitchen or making a ruckus about something stupid. God damn, she missed that.
Tears had started falling again, and she wiped them away before pushing into the restaurant side of the truck stop. The smell of fried eggs and coffee reached her, which prompted her belly to gurgle. She was hungry. Hungrier than she realized. A waitress led her to a table and she slid into the black vinyl seat. In the first few quiet moments alone at the table, tension stiffened her shoulders.
What are you doing, Gidget? Why did you steal Butch’s bike? She let her head drop into her hands, the heaviness of her irrational choice bearing down on her. Would Butch understand it if she told him she just needed a motherfucking second to breathe?
But if she told him that, she’d have to tell him all the rest. That her period was late, maybe late by two weeks. That she’d been feeling emotional and hormonal and all sorts of insecurities were flaring to life. That some days, her brain seemed to hijack her rational mind, leaving her gaping and wallowing in the background. Her breasts ached for release, but the period never came.
She drew a shaky breath. She didn’t even need to take the test—she already knew the damn answer.
What did you expect? The maelstrom of emotions and accusations and fears and worries kicked into high gear now that she was alone and facing the truth. She and Butch had been fucking like animals. And though they used protection most of the time, they certainly hadn’t used it every time. And she knew better than that. She knew better than to tempt cruel fate like that, especially with a biker guy.
Still, somewhere in the back of her mind it hadn’t mattered. She liked the idea of being with Butch, of carving out a future with him. And maybe she’d rationalized any surprise baby away with the knowledge that it would only bring her and Butch together. That logic seemed so infantile now; so distant and strange.
Butch would never be hers, not in the way she wanted. And she desperately wanted him. She wiped away another rogue tear, staring at the opposite end of the restaurant with watery eyes.
“What can I get ya, sweet cakes?”
Gidget jumped when she realized the waitress had returned. She stumbled around her words for a moment. “Uh, a…a water.” She blinked. “And pancakes.” This was the only comfort food that could confront a day like hers.
When the waitress left, Gidget rummaged inside the front pocket of her sweatshirt. The test was still there. And her money? She groped for her change purse and tugged it out. Wasn’t her phone in there too? Her brows knitted together as she felt around for it. Nothing.
Panic streaked through her. Fuck. She’d come all this way without a phone? Had she left it somewhere, maybe on accident? She let her head drop into her hands as she raked through the morning: the hotel room, the ride to the pharmacy, buying the test…and then the getaway. There weren’t a ton of places it could be.
It has to be in the hotel. She sighed deeply but halfway through it turned into tears. Her eyes brimmed and then one spilled over, giving permission for more to fall. She wiped away as many as she could, vainly, hoping that the waitress wouldn’t see her. Get it together. So she didn’t have her phone. Oh well. She could navigate in the world without it. Hopefully.
She sniffed hard, unzipping the change purse. Poking around in inside revealed only a crumpled five dollar bill. Her eyes fluttered shut with disappointment. You left Shreveport without a phone and without money, on Butch’s stolen bike. Could you be more of an idiot?
This time, the tears that threatened took over completely. She let out an inglorious hiccup before the real waterworks started. She let her head drop to the table, crying into her arms, pitiful for the entire world to see.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Butch fumed on the taxi ride back to the motel. He hadn’t stopped asking questions in his mind since hearing his bike roar out of the parking lot. Nothing about it made any damned sense. And the taxi taking a goddamned half hour to show up didn’t help matters either.
And on top of that, Gidget wouldn’t answer her phone. Not only was he stranded, he’d been kicked out to sea by the very person he’d swore felt any damn thing for him. He cursed under his breath in the back seat of the nineties model taxi. The entire car smelled of fake air fresheners and farts. He leaned as close as he could to the open window without hanging his head outside.
When the taxi finally let him off at the motel, he shoved a ten dollar bill at the driver before stumbling toward the door, anxiety tightening around his neck. Why the fuck would she run off with my bike? Already the sight was a bad sign. His bike wasn’t anywhere in this motel parking lot, and he’d sworn that this would be the place she’d come to. Maybe she thought I’d left the store. Maybe she got an emergency call.
The wonderings and whatifs didn’t stop. His mind ran in a circle until he felt dizzy, pushing open their door at the motel. It swung open, a dark, still room greeting him.
“Gidge?” His voice came out gruff as he stepped inside. The silence felt eerie, like someone might pop out of the corner. Without her here, the room didn’t feel right. He swallowed a knot in his throat, ignoring the upswell of confusion that threatened to topple him.
He jammed his hand into his pocket, fumbling to reveal his phone. Goddammit Gidget. Where did you go? He pulled up his recent calls—Gidget’s number had been tried seven times—and dialed her again.
From somewhere in the room, a buzzing sounded. He blinked, following the noise. He pulled back the comforter, revealing her silver studded cell phone case. “Fucking hell.” He ended the call and the vibrations stopped. He stared at it for a few moments, the quiet of the dark room consuming him. Where to go now?
There was only one other place she’d go, and that was the clubhouse. But why without him? Why without even mentioning it? His gut wrenched again, turning his morning hunger into a violent bout of nausea. The not knowing upset him, but mostly he was upset with himself. For letting a blonde beauty like her get the better of him, bringing him to his knees when she disappeared.
You were fine on your own. And then you had to get close to somebody.
He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing the shaft of light that entered from the dreary morning outside. Geo would kill him, that was for sure. But that was the least of his worries. Even though protecting Gidget was his mission, somewhere deep inside he knew that she’d made this de
cision, whatever the fuck it was, for a good reason.
And the fact that he trusted that, despite being left in the dust and plagued by thousands of questions every second, upset him even more.
Because it meant he’d lost his goddamned mind. He’d officially taken the jump off the deep end, letting himself feel anything for anyone. And for Gidget no less. He knew better than to get implicated with a woman, but especially with the daughter of his club president. Because now, the fear of what Geo would do to him ranked way below his own fear that something should happen to Gidget, simply because he….
He swallowed hard, fighting the L word. He didn’t want to even think it. But it was too late. Did he love her? He kicked at the radiator below the main window, pleased by the rattling of the metal. He did it again for good measure. What a fucked-up situation. And where the fuck was Gidget?
Butch stilled when he heard the rumble of a motorcycle. Anxiety shot towards excitement. It was her—it had to be. Heart pounding like a rabbit, he peered out the front door, face falling when he spotted what was very much not his bike pulling up to the motel.
