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Chapter Twenty-Five
Isabelle
As I’m dragged back into consciousness against my will, I reach across the bed in search of Diego so I can cuddle back into his side and drift back to sleep but instead, I find cold sheets and a heaping pile of disappointment. Peeling my eyes open with a scowl, I examine the spot where he’s supposed to be before turning toward the window. The sky is just beginning to lighten and the sweet chirping of birds fill the air, beckoning the rest of the world to rise. I glance over at the bedroom door and stare at it for a moment before sighing and throwing the covers off my legs. As I move to sit on the edge of the bed, I grab my phone off of the nightstand and rub my eyes.
“Fuck me,” I whisper when I get a glimpse of the time. It’s a half past four in the morning and I can’t, for the life of me, understand why the hell Diego isn’t in bed with me. After the events of last night, we were both dead on our feet when we walked through the door at one in the morning but sleep eluded us for a while. I suspect we both were replaying the events of the evening over and over again in our minds. We didn’t talk about it though. At some point, I must have drifted off because the last thing I remember is wrapping myself around Diego and tracing over the lines of his tattoos with my finger. Something about it made me feel safe and protected despite the fact that we were literally shot at only hours before.
Setting my phone down, I drop my head into my hands as I replay the memory of crawling around the truck and finding Diego on the ground. My chest aches. As I lift my head, I press one of my hands over my heart like I can somehow block the pain of the image but it doesn’t work. Not that I truly expected it to. I have a feeling that seeing Diego on the ground like that and not knowing if he was hurt will haunt me for a long time. The ache seems to increase the more I linger on that particular memory so I shove it away and stand, pulling Diego’s t-shirt over my head before striding to the door and pulling it open.
The rich aroma of coffee hits my nose but the house is silent, nagging at me, and my need to find Diego feels even more urgent than before. I bypass the pot of coffee and walk to the back door, breathing a sigh of relief when I see him sitting in one of the chairs, staring out at the forest surrounding us. As I slide the door open, his phone starts ringing so he doesn’t hear me and I pause. Should I just go back inside and let him talk in peace? I know it’s the polite thing to do but it’s also the exact opposite of what I want and I chew on my bottom lip as he answers, putting the call on speakerphone.
“Hey, Mom. It’s pretty early for you to call. Everything okay?” he says, holding the phone out in front of him as he grabs a mug of coffee and takes a sip.
“You tell me. I’ve been feeling like I needed to reach out to you all night long.”
Diego laughs. “As always, your intuition is impeccable.”
“What happened?” she asks and he sighs before relaying the story of what went down at the radio station to her, leaving out the fact that he took two bullets in his vest. That’s probably for the best though. Placing a hand on my belly, I can’t help but think how upset I would be to hear that my son was being shot at by a psycho.
“My God, Diego,” she whispers when he finishes the story, letting out a disapproving tsk. “You certainly live an interesting life, don’t you?”
“If you were still a cop, you would have had backup,” a man grumbles, the judgement in his tone, making my hackles rise. I take a step forward before stopping myself from marching over there and giving the man a piece of my mind. I don’t know who the hell he is but I hate the way he’s speaking to Diego and I won’t stand for it.
“I did have backup, Dad.”
His dad scoffs. “A bunch of criminal bikers is not backup.”
“Daniel, please,” Diego’s mother says, a plea in her voice that I don’t understand. Leaning against the door frame, I cross my arms over my chest, too invested now to walk away.
“Don’t you scold me, woman,” he snaps back and I arch a brow. Oh, hell no. Any man ever talked to me like that and I would smack him right across the face. Diego’s mother seems to have more patience than me though. “He’s the one who quit a good job as a police officer to become a goddamn biker, bringing shame and disappointment to our family. If he doesn’t like the way I speak to him now, he should have made a different choice.”
“Dad, how many times do I have to tell you that the club isn’t a bunch of criminals? We fucking help people. Hell, I help more people now than I ever did as a cop.”
A noise of disapproval is his father’s only response and the way Diego’s shoulders sag breaks my fucking heart.
“Let’s change the subject, mijo. Anything else going on lately?”
He nods, squaring his shoulders as he turns to look at the sun as it rises through the trees. “Yeah, actually. I’ve been meaning to call you to tell you that you’re going to be a grandma.”
Oh, shit.
My stomach flips as I wait for her response.
Diego and I haven’t spent a whole lot of time talking about our families so I know next to nothing about his parents which also means I have no way to gauge how she is going to react to the news.
“Oh!” she squeals and in an instant, a smile tugs at my lips. “You’re going to be a father? Who is the lucky lady?”
Diego laughs. “Her name is Isabelle.”
“Isabelle,” his mother answers and I can hear the smile in her voice. It eases my fears and warms my heart to know that she is happy for us. “Such a pretty name. Where did you meet her?”
“Through friends.”
“Well, how far along is she?”
Diego’s smile falters for just a second and I wince because I know he’s going to have to tell her that I hid the pregnancy from him for so long. “Twenty-nine weeks.”
“Oh,” she gasps. “So far along. Did you not know until now or…”
