The same way everyone who mattered to me left. Or died.
I won’t do something so heinous to her, or to my unborn child. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit the urge to run is strong.
My thoughts return to Molly. She’s dead silent in the stall.
Unbelievable.
Un-fucking-believable.
How long would it have been before she figured out she was carrying a kid?
My kid.
If I didn’t spot the discarded test, would she be busting at the seams with a baby bump the size of a basketball before she admits it?
This is it for sure. Life as I know it is done. Everything will change as soon as this baby comes. I’ll have to step up and be a father. Fuck…a father? Daddy? Papa? Dad? Christ, no child should ever have me as a parent. The kid can easily be fucked up with mental problems out the ass just from my genes, never mind from being around me.
Will. Not can. The kid will…
I kick the trashcan in the corner outside the bathroom stall. Crouching to the floor with my head in my hands, I watch as pieces of garbage spill all over the ground as the round can rolls around me.
Molly makes a noise on the other side of the stall door. “I can’t do this… I can’t look.”
She can’t look? How will she handle carrying a baby and raising one if she won’t open her eyes? Is this how it went down with the first test too? I hang my head between my knees, slowly letting my ass hit the disgusting floor. My life is over. No more fun, no more living it up. I’ll be switching my little black book to keeping a little black onesie and a spare diaper in case of accidents. My lack of sleep now won’t be due to too much partying. Eight or however many months from now, it’ll be on account of too much pooping and teething and night feedings.
It’s too late to have an out, but I want one.
As I think it, I wonder if this is how my biological father felt when he found out about me. I have no idea who he is. No fucking clue. He could be the fucking owner of this gas station for all I know. Or that douchebag organizer at the fight club. Or Dean fucking Roman, President of the Mongols MC, just like Axe likes to suggest.
A kid deserves to at least know the people behind the last name he’s given.
Behind me, Molly steps out of the stall and makes a painful groaning noise, somewhere between a strangled sob and a gasp. I get to my feet. My fingers clench into fists at my sides.
“Oh Christ…no…no…” she mutters.
I can’t look at her now. Not while she falls apart because she’s carrying my baby. It must be fucking hell on earth to know she’s knocked up with hell’s spawn, but shit, does she have to sound like she’s dying? Her sobs are extra loud thanks to the bathroom acoustics. I’m so numb I don’t think I can unfreeze my legs and take the three strides needed to go to her side and comfort her if my life depended on it. Besides, I really fucking doubt she wants me to touch her right now.
“It’ll be okay,” I say, and the words sound as dull as speaking underwater. The words are hollow to my own ears.
“I’ve got to take another test. These two must’ve expired on the shelf,” Molly says between her panicked cries.
“That’s test number two and three. They all say the same thing, but if you want another test, I’ll get you one.” I stumble back to the gas station concession area and find another test. Hell, I pick up two again. She’ll probably want another. After paying, I take them back to her, passing them over the stall door so I won’t have to open the door and see the fear and pain in her eyes. She snatches it from my hands and is silent for a few minutes.
“I can’t pee. I’m out. Let’s just get back to the clubhouse. I’ll check it then. Crap, I need a drink. Shit! I can’t have a fucking drink if this is really happening. Gawwwwwwd…all that alcohol I’ve been drinking…”
She really bawls.
I dig my nails into my palms until stabbing pain washes up my forearms. It’s time to man up and own up to my mistakes, and from the sound of Molly’s sobbing, she agrees. This news is a life-changing, wrecking ball of a blunder.
“I won’t hide this from Silas and the brothers when we get back.”