Page 59 of The Heart We Guard
I run my fingers over the Iron Outlaws rocker on the back. It’s a patch I’ve been proud to wear. But in the quiet of the room, I can admit I’ve let it defineme, instead of me definingit.
Weapons come next. The knife on my belt, the gun in its holster, the solid rings that protect my knuckles. I lay them out on the table, and I suddenly wonder how many of the brothers with kids shelter them from this side of the life, because I did a shit job with Ember. My daughter has seen and heard shit no young woman should ever have to. When she was little, I’d lock the weapons away. But, in her teens, I’d just leave ‘em where I put ‘em. Easy reach. Always loaded.
Wouldn’t be able to do that anymore, but then I look over at the bed and know it’s a sacrifice I’d easily make.
My jeans are pressed but dusty from the ride to find Greer, and I unzip them and let them drop to the floor.
The shirt is old but rarely worn. I’m not much of one for an iron, but I found myself dusting the thing off. Not sure I did a perfect job either. Years without any practice. But when I knew I might find her today, I wanted her to see a different version of me to the blood-covered, messed-up man she met in a parking lot.
When I’m standing in my boxer briefs at the bottom of the bed, I look at the outline of her, sleeping on her side, the covers tucked right up over the side of her head so I can’t see her gorgeous hair.
But beneath those blankets are two of the three most important people in my world, and the realization takes my breath away.
Greer deserves so much better than me. Like some doctor called Wade who lives in Las Vegas and can give her a life of designer shoes and a manicured lawn.
But I want more than anything to give her my version of that. Maybe her own boots so she can ride on the back of my bike. They might not be designer, but they are reliable and sturdy. And my lot will never be manicured, but maybe with the right seeds, I can make her a meadow of fucking wildflowers, and I’ll build a solid and safe tree house with my own hands for our kids to play in.
Kids.
Plural.
Fuck.
Maybe all this is a fever dream. Maybe I’ll wake up in the cold light of day and lose all these romantic notions.
I slip to the side of the bed and climb in behind her, and no sooner do I, than she rolls over, throws her arms around me, and cries against my chest.
“I’ve got you, Greer. It’s going to be okay.”
Her body wracks with tears, and all I can do is stroke her hair, kiss her forehead, and hold her tight.
“You asked me what it was like, to find out I was pregnant,” she says finally as the sobs subside. “I’m terrified I’m going to be a terrible mom. I’ll never be ready.”
I hold her even tighter.
“The wild thing is,” I say, threading my hand into her hair and holding her close to my chest, “parenting comes at you hard whether you’re ready for it or not. And knowing you, you’re gonna succeed at it more times than you fail. But youwillfail. Everyone does. You just got to pray and hope you get the important things right.”
I’m not sure if I’m reassuring her or me.
Can’t remember the last time I didn’t sleep naked. Can’t remember the last time I had a woman in my bed wearing clothes. But the T-shirt and panties she’s sleeping in do little to change how intimate this moment feels.
“We’ll do it together, Greer. I promise.”
She looks up at me, and in the darkness, I can still make out the tracks of her tears. I brush them away with my thumbs.
“What if it’s a girl, Nolan?”
“Then I’ll have two daughters to love.”
She shakes her head. “I keep wondering what kind of world I’m bringing her into. One where she might have less rights than I do. I thought about terminating the pregnancy. Even made an appointment, at first, but something stopped me. It wasn’t some morality or judgment about abortion. It was a deeply personal reassessment that it wasn’t the right solution for me.”
It’s like a dagger to my heart to hear she thought about getting rid of the one thing that could cement us together. But if I’m honest with myself, there’s a lot to unpack in that immediate reaction.
I don’t have to carry the kid; I don’t have to give birth to it.
“Is ending the pregnancy what you really want? Because…I’d support you if you did. Not because I don’t want us to have it, because I do. But…nothing about you and me is easy, Greer. I get it. Our worlds are so far apart. Who we are. What we want. How we communicate. All of it. If it’s too much for you for whatever reason, I’d support you through it.”
She cuddles closer to me. “You’re a better man than you give yourself credit for. Even though I hate you for leaving.”
