Page 6 of Angel

“If it’s the night that Bear told me about, a good number of you got drunk. Is it possible it’s…one of the guys?”

Horror had struck Angel and her jaw dropped open. She had a flash of memory where she was in Pumpkin’s arms. He was lifting her up and she had the vague recollection that he’d motorboated her. But Angel’s memory felt humorous, not sexual. It felt like the action had been revenge for something. Fuck, Angel wished she hadn’t had so much to drink that night.

Still, the possibility was there. She was only positive of one brother it wasn’t, because he’d been off with some blonde slut. “It’s…possible,” Angel finally admitted. But it didn’t feel right.

If she and Pumpkin had slept together, he’d have mentioned it. Someone would have said something. It would have gotten out. The club brothers were worse than gossiping women when it came to secrets.

Tessa gasped at Angel’s confession. “You have to tell him.”

Fuck no! “I can’t. Even if it is possible, he can never know.”

Thankfully, Tessa had let the subject drop soon after she’d questioned whether Angel had gotten herself tested, which Angel had assured her she had.

Since she’d become a mom, that night out with the guys had been the only time she’d drunk more than one beer in a sitting. Bree was her priority since the second Angel had stepped into her hospital room. She’d forever be grateful that she’d seen Bear’s text that night, that she’d decided to respond.

Bree was the best thing in her life. Her daughter was so strong, to fight her way back from the brink of death as she did. Angel knew she owed Cage for that. She never had and never would regret her decision to adopt Bree. Her schedule might be different, her expenses might be tighter, her life not her own anymore, but Bree was worth every worry, every late night, every expense.

As would her baby have been.

Angel tried to push back the tears. She refused to cry—especially not in front of Tessa. She was a patched member of the Via Daemonia. She was a retired Army sniper. The other women and her club brothers saw her as a strong badass. She would not cry in front of Tessa.

A tear ran down her cheek.

She quickly wiped it away.

Angel wasn’t sure how long she stayed in the hospital bed, just staring at the ceiling. Eventually the doctor left and it was just her and Tessa again.

Tessa squeezed Angel’s hand. “I’m so sorry.” Angel could hear the grief in her friend’s voice, which only made the pain in Angel’s heart sharpen.

Angel could only nod.

She turned her face into her pillow, not wanting to look at Tessa or share her pain. Her baby’s loss was her own. No one else’s.

“It’s not your fault.”

Angel was only half-listening to Tessa. She wanted to ask Tessa to leave but knew Tessa would be on the phone with Bear as soon as she did. How would her club brothers look at her now? They’d always treated her as an equal and Angel had also always acted like an equal, never hesitating to go toe-to-toe with them. She wasn’t butch, but she also didn’t act feminine. She liked what she liked and she was who she was. She’d been called a tomboy all her life. She had even been called a dyke on more than one occasion, even though Angel had never been attracted to her own gender.

Bree had made her a mom. Angel was very proud of that fact. She’d never thought she would be a mom and certainly not a good one. Her own mother had not been a good role model in that department.

But there was a difference between being a mom and being pregnant. At least in her mind. Pregnancy was extremely feminine and would make her stand out from her club brothers. While there was a female prospect, Angel was currently the only female patched member. She’d fought for her right to be “one of the boys” since she’d turned eighteen and joined the Army.

As much as she wanted her baby, she’d been dreading how being pregnant would change her relationship with her club brothers.

Angel squeezed her eyes closed, hating her train of thought. There was no part of her that was grateful she was no longer pregnant. The doctor could claim she was never pregnant to begin with, but she’d loved her baby. Even if only for two days.

But there was relief, no matter how small and intangible it was, in that none of her club brothers would ever know about her pregnancy.

A relief that Angel hated herself for feeling.

Tessa kept talking, probably assuming incorrectly that Angel would find comfort in her words. “The fetus would have never survived, Angel. It never attached itself to your uterine lining. Most women don’t even realize they have a chemical pregnancy. The fact that you knew about the pregnancy is very rare.”

Angel wasn’t sure if she was supposed to feel better about that. She’d only taken that pregnancy test because she’d been concerned about possibly having unprotected sex with a stranger. Her period was never late, which was another sign something was off. She’d already gone to the clinic to check for transmitted diseases. Thankfully, as a tattoo artist, that was something she regularly did and had an open account for herself and her employees to get tested regularly or as needed.

“I’ve already spoken to the charge nurse. We can stay as long as you need.”

Tessa had not summoned an ambulance. Angel had begged her to drive her instead, not wanting the lights or sirens to draw attention. The club would swarm like bees to their queen if that happened. No secret would be safe then. While the doctor had claimed that Angel’s bleeding had been substantial, she had also informed Angel that it was normal for this sort of miscarriage. The large blood clots that had concerned Tessa and made her believe Angel had lost her baby were also normal.

Angel knew she should leave and give her hospital bed to someone who actually needed it. Tessa had brought clean pants and a pair of her boy-short panties for her. The heavy-duty pads the hospital had given her were waiting on the over-bed table beside her like a bad omen. But she had no desire to move.

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