“Even if it’s for your own safety?” she questions gently.
I look down, picking at some imaginary fluff on the blanket. She knows me too well.
“I know I messed up, but he also didn’t handle the situation very well. I mean, he didn’t even come pick me up. He sent Gears. Who does that? I thought these bikers were supposed to put their ol’ ladies before everything else.”
“You’re overthinking it. And how long can you go on like this?”
I shrug miserably.
The low rumble of motorcycles brings our attention to the main gates as they open slowly. The men pull into the courtyard, Drifter stopping in front of me and climbing off. I can’t help staring, admiring how his leathers cling to him. I mentally scold myself—I’m supposed to be angry, not ogling him.
He looks up, and when he smiles, my heart lifts. I smile back before realising it wasn’t meant for me at all.
“Evening Mumma Bear,” he greets, ignoring me completely.
My heart sinks. I push to my feet, throwing the fleece behind me on the seat and storming back inside.
I pinch the skin on my stomach and press the needle in. I don’t even flinch anymore, I’ve grown so used to it. It’s strange how quickly something like this becomes routine. I pull my shirt back down and clear away the discarded wipes.
It’s been a long week. Drifter and I still aren’t really speaking, unless grunting at each other counts as conversation.
I drop the needle into the sharps box and look at myself in the mirror. Dark circles shadow my eyes, and I feel my spark fading. My love life is hanging by a thread, yet the need for a baby still weighs heavily on me, like it’s the one thing that might make everything else right.
I turn on the tap and lean over the sink, splashing cool water onto my face. This has to change. I need to talk to Drifter. We can’t carry on like this much longer.
A knock sounds at the door, and Red pokes her head through the frame.
“You done?” she asks.
I roll my eyes. “You couldn’t even give me ten minutes to sort myself out?”
“Nope,” she says, popping the P and pushing her way into the en suite. She drops the toilet lid and lowers herself onto it.
I smirk at her reflection. “Do you mind?”
She waves her hand. “Nah, carry on.” She pulls her phone from her pocket and begins typing something.
My brows furrow. “Red?”
Her head snaps up. “Yeah?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re really going to sit here whilst I finish getting ready?”
“Yeah, why not? Bella is on her way up too.”
I laugh and open the cupboard pulling out my makeup bag. “Couldn’t you guys just wait downstairs?”
She throws her head back dramatically, resting it against the tiles. “I’m avoiding Rock.”
I smirk. “That bad?”
“He’s still pissed that we went out. I’ve tried everything, but it just ends up in arguments.”
“I hear you,” I say, applying my eyeliner. “Drifter hasn’t even spoken to me.” I pull my head back from the mirror and blink before going back to apply more. “Maybe we did fuck up.”
“Ugh, don’t you start.”
I laugh out loud and shake my head.
