Sitting up, Zodiac ran his hands through his thick blond hair. “I’ll get your snacks. You hurry up on the phone. I’m missing the game.”
Once he left the room, I rang up Sutter for a video call. My boy answered immediately and frowned.
“Have you been crying?” he asked immediately.
“No, but I am a little gassy.”
Sutter gave me an amused eye roll. “Is he being nice to you?”
“Not really. Zodiac’s got foster kid damage.”
“Do you want to come home?”
“A little. Are you going to sleep upstairs with your grandparents tonight?”
“No.”
“Won’t you be scared all alone down in the basement?”
“I’ll have Hobbs.”
“Well, he is a notoriously badass guard dog.”
Sutter smiled warmly at me. “Don’t let him be mean to you.”
“I won’t. I just want to know him a little better before the baby gets here. I’ve never had to share my son with his father before.”
“I’ve never had to share you with anyone before. We’re both learning new stuff.”
My heart felt too full hearing Sutter’s sweet words. I often felt like I couldn’t do right by my boy because he was so much smarter than I’d ever be. But in the end, he just wanted to be loved.
After I promised to call Sutter before he went to bed, I dialed up Sabrina.
“I’m staying the night.”
“I know. You’re a weak woman, so we’ve already booked a room.”
“I ought to apologize, but I don’t feel guilty, and you don’t like lies.”
Sabrina snickered. “We’ll pick you up at eleven tomorrow. Have your pants on by then and good luck with the asshole.”
My cousin hung up, leaving me with a choice. I could keep calling people, or I could face Zodiac.
Shay would offer kind advice, while Ford would remind me how Zodiac’s knee was a tender spot if I got in a fight with the biker. I always felt my parents nearby. They raised me to hear their voices whenever I was in doubt.
I walked to the living room to find Zodiac with his arms stretched across the back of the couch. He eyed me with suspicion.
“I’ve realized this baby wasn’t an accident,” he said in a menacing tone.
Snickering at his accusation, I sat on the other end of the couch. “You’d have to be a moron to think that.”
“Isn’t it a little convenient that you got knocked up from a single fuck?”
“Everyone gets knocked up from a single fuck.”
“Sure, but I think you plotted this thing out to trap me.”
“Number one, I didn’t choose the date of the party at the clubhouse. If I wanted to arrange a time to get knocked up, I’d make sure I was in the fertile part of my cycle. Number two, I wouldn’t have spread for you just once if I were looking to make a kid. Number three—”
