Page 8 of Reckless

My eyes drift around the room.

Nobody is panicking.

Nobody is walking away.

They are just… here.

Every single one of them.

A year ago, I wouldn’t have known any of them.

A year ago, if somebody had told me I’d be kneeling on the clubhouse floor with my hand locked in the president’s Old Lady’s while she brought their son into the world, I would have laughed them straight out of the room.

Now, I can’t imagine being anywhere else.

Something settles low in my chest, quiet but undeniable.

Not because this moment is easy.

But because it isn’t.

It’s loud, messy, and terrifying, held together with sheer determination and whatever faith this club has in each other. But somewhere between Victoria squeezing the life out of my hand, and Deek trying to hand Marley a packet of barbecue chips because ‘she might get hungry,’ I realize something that probably should have hit me weeks ago.

These people aren’t just letting me stand in the room anymore.

I’m one of the people they called into it. The thought lands hard enough that I have to swallow around the lump suddenly sitting in my throat before anybody notices.

Sin doesn’t move. Every time Victoria reaches for him, he’s already there. Holding her hand, brushing her hair back, resting his forehead against hers while he says something only she gets to hear. Whatever it is, she hangs onto every word.

“You’re with me, sweetheart. Look at me… That’s it… I know… I know it hurts… You can hate me later.”

That last one makes Victoria laugh, or try to. It comes out broken around a groan. “I already hate you.”

He chuckles. “I can take it.”

“I mean it, Sin!”

“I know you do, baby.”

Victoria lets out a long, angry groan, pushing through another contraction. “You did this!”

His mouth twitches, but his eyes shine with something dangerous and wet that he blinks away before anyone else can notice. “I had help.”

“If you make a joke right now, Diesel, I will divorce you during labor just to make a point.”

“Technically, we’re not married for you to divorce me.”

“AHH, FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE!” Another contraction hits as she yells back at him, and this one tears the room wide open.

Victoria arches off the blankets, a raw cry ripping out of her as her body locks around the pain, and every man in the room reacts as though someone has pointed a gun at her. Koa takes one step forward before Bear’s arm comes out and stops him across the chest. Nitro turns away with one hand over his mouth, phone still pressed to his ear, eyes squeezed shut like he can’t stand hearing it and can’t bear not to. Anchor goes pale. Liam drops the last towel and swears under his breath.

Ghost stays near the hallway, phone to his ear.

He barely moves.

A year ago, I might have mistaken that for indifference.

Now I know it’s the opposite.