CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

 

Arabella is safely tucked away in the clear hospital cot.  I’m sitting up in bed, my back supported by four thick pillows, my legs covered in a white cable blanket. I’m nervous.  My heart won’t stop thudding in my chest and my fingers won’t stay still.

Hamish is standing by the window, looking out across the hospital carpark below, his hands in his pockets, his back stiff.

“I’m not happy about this, babe,” he mutters.  “I know why you’re doing it, but it doesn’t mean I’m jumping for joy over it.”

“I know.  I just…”  It’s hard to explain, but I have to do what I feel is right.  Whether I like it or not, Dek is Arabella’s father, and even though he hasn’t been the best support so far, he at least deserves a chance.

He turns to face me, concern and hesitation warring in his eyes. “I know.  I get you think you have to do it, but this is a beautiful time for you.  For me.  For us.  I don’t want him coming in here and busting your bubble.  You deserve to be happy, sweetheart.”

“I am happy.  Happier than I’ve ever been,” I say adamantly.

“You know I’ll support you with anything, right?” he promises, kissing my temple.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

A knock on the door to my hospital suite interrupts us and I inhale deeply.  Dek walks in and I lay my eyes on him for the first time in nine months.  He looks… haggard.

His beard is longer and scruffier-looking.  He’s wearing all black just like the night I slept with him, but his clothes need a good wash and so does his hair.  His eyes are like chips of black ice.  Cold.

In a small way, Hamish kind of looked like Dek.  Both were tall, built, muscular, and had tanned skin.  Where Dek’s badassery radiated off him, Hamish had the kind that simmered just under the surface.  You knew it was there, but he didn’t flaunt it.  He’d use it when required, to protect his family, but he didn’t advertise it like Dek did.  He didn’t need to.

“Hi,” I mumble, breaking the tension-filled silence in the room.

Dek’s eyes slice to me and he gives me a chin lift before looking back to Hamish.

“You want to give us a minute, man?”

“Nope,” Hamish replies casually yet firmly.

“He’s with me.  He’s my boyfriend,” I rush out in explanation.  “Hamish meet Dek. Dek, Hamish.”

“And this is Arabella?” Dek asks, his gaze moving to the bundle in the cot.

“Yes,” I croak.

He walks over and reaches out toward her.  His hand is shaking as he bends down and runs a finger over her chubby cheek.  “Hey, baby girl,” he whispers. Then he rights himself and removes a chain from around his neck, placing it in the crib with her.

“She’s beautiful,” he says to me, his jaw slack.

“She is.”

“My grandmother gave me that necklace when I was nine,” he says.  “Ain’t got much to give her, but that means a lot to me.  Always has.”

“I’ll keep it safe for her for when she’s older,” I promise.

“I fucked up,” he states, hands resting loosely on his hips, eyes on the floor.

“I know.”

“You’re both better off without me, Olive.”  He brings his gaze to mine.

“I know that, too.” 

“Shit’s bad.  Gonna get worse.”  He sighs and scrubs his hands over his face then he turns to face Hamish.  He swallows the five steps between them in two long strides.  I watch, more than slightly apprehensive, as my past looks my future in the eyes.

“You’ll take care of ‘em?”

Hamish nods once.  “Always.”

Then Dek extends his hand to Hamish and a beat later, Hamish returns the gesture.  My jaw falls open.  Then Dek turns, bends down and kisses Arabella softly on her forehead.

Black chips of ice focus on me and I hold his gaze.  “You don’t know me, Olive.  Never met me before in your life.  Never heard my name, even in passing.  You know nothing of the Devil’s Dust MC besides what everyone else in Katherine knows—that it’s an MC.  You’ve never been to the clubhouse.  You. Don’t. Know. Me.  Tell me you get me,” he orders, his tone beseeching.

“I understand,” I whisper.

He holds my gaze for a beat longer, then satisfied with the resolve he sees in them, he nods his head.

“Be happy, Olive,” he says to me as he walks toward the door.  Before he clears the threshold, he turns back, eyes on Hamish, finger pointing at Arabella, and says, “Don’t let no motherfuckers break her heart.”

Hamish’s lips twitch.  “I won’t.”

After Dek leaves, I stay silent, shell-shocked.

“You okay?”  I shake the haze from my brain and realise Hamish is sitting on the bed beside me, stroking my hair.

“It kinda sounded like he was never coming back,” I mumble.  “Did he sound that way to you?”

“Yeah, baby, it did,” he answers softly.  “But who knows.  He’s likely dealing with shit we can’t even begin to understand.”

“More than likely,” I agree.

In a small part of my gut, I had been fearful that seeing Dek again would reignite the lust I felt for him that night at the clubhouse.  I was scared of what that would mean for my relationship with Hamish, and what it would mean for mine and Arabella’s future. 

But the truth was, Dek was one night of insane, drunken passion.  A blip in a parallel universe that created the most important thing in my life.  But it is nowhere near the depth of feeling I have for Hamish.  Dek owned my body for one night, but Hamish owns my heart, body, and soul for eternity.

Hamish leans down and kisses me softly, brushing his lips gently across my own before slipping his tongue inside my mouth and deepening our connection.  Beside us, Arabella stirs, her tiny, squeaky cry bringing a grin to my face.  Everything about her is just too cute!

Seconds later, my suite door flings open and my dad appears.  His face a picture of horror.  Blood coating his clothing and smeared across his cheek.  My eyes widen to the point of pain, my heart starts thundering in my chest, and I immediately start to cry as panic consumes me.