Page 58 of Four Tattoos

When my shift ends, I’m unusually tired, but I don’t know if it’s mental and emotional exhaustion, or fatigue caused by the pregnancy. It doesn’t make sense to me that I’d be so tired when my belly hasn’t even started to grow, but according to online research, it’s normal to already be fatigued.

I’m still thinking through my upcoming discussion with the men as I drive back to my apartment. I expect to have some time to change my clothes and scrub the caffeine out of my pores, but I spot Hutch’s truck as soon as I pull into my lot. The four of them are waiting for me when I get out of my car.

My chest aches at the sight of them, like my heart wants to burst out of my chest, and whether that’s from excitement or dread, I don’t know. It’s really good to see them, despite the conversation I need to have.

“How are you?” Christian asks, while the others just greet me with nods, their eyes unusually wary.

“I’m good,” I say out of habit, but then I correct myself. “Actually, I’ve been better.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Hutch asks.

My lack of energy must be obvious. “I’m tired,” I admit.

He lifts the strap of my bag off of my shoulder. “Here, let me get this.”

“It’s just my purse. It’s not heavy.”

“I got it,” he insists, draping it over his shoulder and making the big tote look tiny.

With nervousness starting to build, I lead them up the steps to the door of my unit. “It’s a little bare inside,” I warn them. “There’s nowhere to sit except for my bed.” My cheeks heat at the mention of my bed, followed by a pain in my heart. There’ll be no activity on that bed today, and most likely never again with these men.

“Do you need furniture?” Mace asks.

“I’m working on it. I have the basics.”

Once we’re inside, Christian says, “All you have is a bed and a bedside table.”

I shrug. “Yeah, the basics.”

“Where do you eat?” Zipper asks as Hutch sets my purse on the kitchen counter.

Again, I shrug, realizing I haven’t had much of an appetite. “On the bed, on the floor, or standing right here,” I say, leaning against the counter.

The men’s heads continue to swivel, taking in the space, but they don’t say anything more about it.

“Would you like something to drink?” I ask. “Water, actually,” I add. Ihaveeaten since I moved in, but I haven’t made an official trip to the grocery store to stock my refrigerator.

They refuse my offer, and I’m left thinking how young and inexperienced I must look in their eyes. I’m not being a very good hostess, but then, this isn’t exactly a dinner party.

Awkwardness settles in around us. It’s so strange and so very uncomfortable to be in their presence and not be able to touch them. Every bit of me aches to be in their arms.

“Why did you want to see me?” I ask.

They don’t speak immediately, but they look at me in a way that makes it hard for me to stand still.

Finally, when I’m just about to press them with another question, Hutch drops a bomb. “We know you’re pregnant.”

My throat goes dry, and I have to swallow before I say, “You do?”

“When were you planning to tell us?” Zipper’s question is an accusation, and there’s an inconvenient stinging at the backs of my eyes.

I will not cry.

Hutch steps between Zipper and me. “Ignore him,” he says.

“How … how did you know?” I ask. How could they possibly know? Did they purposely not use protection when I thought they were being safe? It’s not logical, and I’m so taken by surprise that I blurt out, “Did you want this to happen?”

“No!” Hutch and Zipper both say at the same time, sounding so vehement that the unshed tears start to drip from my eyes. It’s incredibly clear that they don’t want a baby, and I think back to a conversation with Christian early on, when he told me that about them.

---