Page 59 of Four Tattoos

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” I say, going on the defensive.

“We know you didn’t,” Hutch says, “and we don’t know how it happened. We always wore condoms.”

“Sometimes it just happens,” Mace says.

Hutch reaches out to stroke my arm, a move that only generates more tears. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” I grab for a tissue from the box on the counter. I don’t have much in my apartment yet, but tissues have been a necessity.

As soon as Hutch realizes I’m crying, he tucks me against his chest and rubs my back.

I try to pull away, not wanting to burden him, and not wanting to seem like I need to be comforted, but he keeps me close, his big hand so soothing as it rubs my back.

“It’s up to you what you want to do, but we’re here to support you in whatever you decide,” he says gently.

I pull back so that I can speak clearly. “One of you is the father. Don’t you want a say in what happens?”

The four men look at each other as though they’re not sure how to answer.

“It’s your body,” Mace says, “so we see you as the decision maker here, but that doesn’t mean we don’t care.”

“Far from it,” Christian says, sounding more tender than I could have ever imagined.

“You still haven’t told me how you found out,” I say.

“We went to Club Red looking for you last night,” Hutch says.

Mace picks up the explanation. “We ran into Callie—is that her name? She got a tattoo at our shop a couple of years ago. She was rushing in, and stopped to ask if we were there for you. Then she let the news slip, because she assumed we already knew.”

“She felt bad for telling us before you had a chance,” Hutch says.

“It’s okay. I was going to tell you soon. I’ve just been trying to figure outhowto tell you.”

The men nod, even Zipper, and I hope they understand why I didn’t rush to tell them immediately.

“Speaking of Club Red, I need to get ready to go in tonight,” I say. It’s still early, but I need a shower, and I need to force myself to eat something. I’d love to take a short nap, if there’s any time.

The fact that the men don’t want a baby echoes in my head. But I didn’t want a baby, either, not until I knew there was one growing inside me.

Suddenly, I’m so tired that all I can think about is lying down.

“Do you feel well enough to be working?” Hutch asks.

I could probably use more rest than my schedule allows, but I don’t want Hutch offering me money again. “Sure, I’m fine,” I tell him.

“We’re here for you,” Christian says, briefly touching my arm. “Whatever you need, and if you want to talk things through, we’re here for that, too.”

I take a step back, unable to think clearly when any of them are touching me.

“I don’t want any of you to feel obligated to me just because this happened.”

My statement is met with confused looks.

“It’s not just something that happened to you,” Zipper says. “We’re in this with you. You’re not alone.”

45

HUTCH

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