Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition Elizabeth Knox (cheapest way to read ebooks .txt) 📖

frustration she’s the cause of. I didn’t want to give in to any craving for her because, for some unknown reason to me, Angie is different. I want to know her and help her when I don’t want to open myself up to anyone. I could see her pain and worry and I want to be the man to fix it.

It’s a one and done, I remind myself again. Women who creep up into your head will fuck up your life. I learned that once already the hard way during my bull riding days. I don’t need to catch the lesson a second time. Best to remember what’s important—my momma, the trucking business, and the club.

5

Angie

I’ve spent the last three days on Jazzy’s couch, sicker than a dog. That makes think about Lucky and I chuckle, but it also makes me a little sad. She was cute, but Cowboy is an asshole. I refused to talk about the ride here and focus on not hurling again.

“I’m worried about you, Ange. I’m not so sure it is a virus,” Jazzy comments from the doorway. She walks in and sits on the edge of the bed. “Don’t freak out, okay.”

“Everyone freaks out when you say don’t freak out, FYI.” I heave through the nausea.

She nods. “True. But listen and then freak out. Better?”

“These are terms I can agree to, go ahead.” I roll my hand to emphasize she can continue the discussion.

“I was talking to Abuela. She asked how you were, and I gave her a report. She wants you to take a pregnancy test.” Jazzy hurries and spits the words out at me.

“Nooooo, she didn’t. Tell me she did not say that!” I get up from the couch and start pacing the floor. “Every damn time she says anything, she’s right. Damn that woman for cursing me.” Bile raises in my throat. “No.” I gulp and try to hold it back, but it’s useless, and I’m darting across the hallway to the guest bathroom to heave.

Jazzy sets a washcloth on my neck. “I left a test on the counter. Just take it. I’ll be outside the door the whole time. Nausea isn’t your only symptom. You’ve been so sad too. I’ve never seen you cry before, Ange, and I’ve met your parents. It would take something huge to make you cry.”

“I’m upset over the absolute bad luck I’ve had, woman. Fine. You want me to take it, you stay with me the whole damn time. You’re in this with me a hundred percent. Then we will prove who’s wrong.”

“Um, awkward, but okay.” She sits on the tub and starts telling me about her day at the tattoo shop and the piece she’s been working on. I let her babble while I open the box and drop my leggings to the floor. I try not to panic. I’ve never had a pregnancy scare before and have never done this. Beads of sweat coat my forehead and my hand shakes while I pee on the stick.

I cap the end and slide the test onto the counter while I pull up my pants then wash my hands. Taking in a lungful of air, I release it slowly and turn to my best friend while she finishes telling me about this dragon tattoo. Seconds later, she looks at the time on her phone. “You want me to look?”

“No.” Slowly, I turn and two pink lines confirm the fact I am pregnant. My vison goes blurry and my lungs seize. I make myself take in air and I gasp, “Jazz, I don’t know who the dad is.” Literally, I don’t know how far along I am and there have been several nights with men. This fact dumps a whole other load of shit on my back, and the weight wants to break me like a twig. When is enough, enough?

“That’s okay. I’ll be the surrogate daddy. You know I will always have your back. But in the meantime, can we narrow down the suspects?”

“Really, I don’t know. There have been a handful of men. I never asked them what their names were. I . . . ah . . . I don’t want to tell you this.” I hold my hands over my cheeks.

“I get it. You’ve been playing around with random guys and don’t know how to reach them,” she adds in for me. “We can try searching online. Oh, we can get Kat to help us!”

I shake my head. “Jazz, I never wanted kids, or at least didn’t think it would happen for me. I don’t want to be a contestant in the Jerry Springer drama. This is bad,” I groan. My heart wants to give in and run away from all of this.

“When was your last period?” she asks.

I think about it and roll over life events to figure out the timeline until one sticks out. “Right before your party.” My eyes bug out, the feeling of fainting and puking overwhelming, except I don’t know which one to do first.

“What is it?” she prods excitedly. “Or whose is it?”

“It could be Cowboy’s baby.”

“Oh, holy motherfucking-fuck-fuck.” She bounces up and the happy excitement on her face isn’t fair. I want to be excited, or at least I should want to be. My heart is so confused, and I tell myself, well, you did it to yourself, ya know.

I snort a reply at first, but the sudden urge to cry takes over the laughter that started and I do this ugly cry thing instead. “What is wrong with me? I used to be so badass, now I cry?” I wipe the errant tear away.

“Let’s sit on this, okay? We don’t have to tell anyone. Let’s make an appointment with the doctor before anything else. Then, after everything is cool and we’re sure, we’ll tell Cowboy together.”

“I love you, bitch, even if that sounds weird.”

“It really does, doesn’t it? I would do it for you. Don’t worry, we will figure this all out. First, we’re