Page 50 of Hendrix

I didn’t want to ask. God knew I didn’t want anybody to think I cared, but I couldn’t help myself. “Is she his girlfriend?”

Freya let out a soft laugh. “No. Daisy’s a club whore.”

“Right,” I muttered, shifting my gaze to anywhere but Hendrix. They seemed close, and going by the way his arm was slung so familiarly across her shoulders, he was used to her being in the same nook of his shoulder where I used to love being.

I’d half expected something like this to happen, so I hated that it cut me so deep. It was like I said to Freya earlier, I hadn’t been celibate. But to see him flaunt his lover in front of my face so casually and uncaring made my throat burn with unshed tears.

Fucking pregnancy hormones, I thought, knowing full damned well that pregnancy hormones had not a thing to do with the fact I wanted to slap his face raw, then curl up in a corner and sob.

“Anna,” a deep voice called from the door we’d just walked through. “Over here, Princess.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hendrix jerk at the mention of my name and push the redhead away.

It took every ounce of willpower I had not to throw him a death glare, but I sucked it up and craned my neck, smiling as I saw Colt enter the bar with a tall, dark figure following behind him.

“Look who just arrived,” he called over.

That was when I heard a familiar, beautiful voice pierce the air.

“Cooooooeeeeeeeee!”

My breath caught, and my steps faltered as Tristan came into view and clapped his hands together excitedly before spreading them wide. “Come to Daddy, Anna Banana!”

A small sob escaped my throat, and then I ran.

Tristan went on the back foot at the impact of my body and suddenly, I was enveloped, safe in my best friend’s arms.

“Oh my God,” I whispered over and over again, burrowing into his chest. “Oh my God. Oh my God. I’ve missed you so much.”

“Sweetheart,” he rasped, pulling back slightly and framing my face with his beautifully manicured hands. “It’s so good to see you.” He leaned in close, his thick lashed eyes darting between mine, and whispered, “And we’re having a baby!”

I let out a sharp sob combined with a laugh. “Surprise! It’s a boy.”

His mouth stretched into a wide grin, showing his sparkling white teeth. “A boy! How fucking weird is that? I would’ve put money on the fact we’d have a girl. Who are we going to pass our hair genius genes onto?”

“Boys can be hair geniuses, too, honey. I mean, look at you.” I noticed the dark shadows under Tristan’s eyes. He looked so tired and worn out, and I knew it was because he’d been worrying about me.

He rolled his eyes. “He’ll be surrounded by alphas, Anna Banana. Baby boy will probably grow up wanting to fell trees for fun, throw boulders and wrestle bears and shit.”

Tristan and I had been the best of friends from the day I met him. He loved everybody, and everybody loved him, which was a feat considering he was openly gay and fabulous, wore better shoes than me, and lived in a God-fearing small town close to the border of Utah.

Tristan’s sexuality made him a target initially, but he soon got most people onside with his kindness, wit, and wicked sense of humor, and I loved him to his bones.

My eyes welled up yet a-fucking-gain. “I’m so sorry for putting you through all this, Tristan. It’s all such a mess.”

“I don’t care,” he cut out. “As long as you and our boy are good, I’m good.”

“Thank you for sending them,” I whispered. “Thank you for getting me and baby safe.”

It was his turn to get misty-eyed. “Always,” he said reverently. “You’re my sister from another mister. You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

I cupped his smooth chin. “I’ll ask Colt to find you a room. You need to sleep.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “What I need, Anna Banana, is a pornstar martini and to get my flirt on.” He leaned closer and whispered, “Have you seen all the beautiful men we’re surrounded by? There’s a party happening in my Tom Ford Cheetah-Print Stretch jockey shorts, and all these commando-hunks are invited.”

“I don’t know if any are gay,” I told him.

He waved a nonchalant hand. “They all say they’re straight until they’ve downed a few beers. Then, before you know it, they’re out in the back alley trying to bend me over a dirty old dumpster.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Why do you think they call me the Mountie over at the gay club in Rock Springs? It’s ‘cause they know Trissy-babyalwaysgets his man. I can spot at least two candidates already, and you know my gaydarneverlets me down.”

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