Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “He’s your brother. He’s never done anything to hurt us.”
Eric grits his teeth. I grin. “You’re just jealous of him aren’t you?” I surmise.
His eyes narrow. “Have you heard of the Wind Dragons?”
I scoff. “Of course I have, who hasn’t?”
The Wind Dragons MC were a notorious motorcycle club. I’d heard nothing good about their members, who apparently take drugs and have sex for a living. They live their life a certain way and make no apologies about it. I’d never actually interacted with a member, so I don’t know the truth of it all, just what I’d heard from others in passing.
Eric has a smug look on his face. I don’t like it. “Dex is the vice president.”
I freeze. “Bullshit.”
Then I remember the tattoo on his back.
The deadly dragon.
I could see Dex in an MC. He has this predator vibe about him.
He’s hot-blooded.
In fact, if I didn’t know him, I would probably steer clear of him altogether. He’s the ultimate bad boy. But he’s also my Dex, the boy I grew up around.
“How come you never mentioned this before?” I ask him, staring at him in suspicion.
Something crosses his face. Something I don’t like. He’s not telling me something.
“I never thought you’d be stupid enough to get mixed up with him and his stupid group of friends,” he says. “Just wait until your mother hears about it, she’s going to kill you.”
That’s the complete truth. My mother is narrow-minded and judgmental about anyone who doesn’t have a university degree. My father just agrees with whatever she says and never has his own opinion. I will never marry a weak man like my father.
“I know he was dating that girl. What’s her name?” he continues, oblivious to my inner dialogue.
“Who knows,” I reply, only caring that he was dating someone, and not is.
“Don’t you want to know who your competition is?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“No, what I want is this conversation to be over.”
“You know what, after one night with you he will be done. Don’t come crying to me when you end up heartbroken,” he sneers, turning away from me.
“Well I survived it once, I’m sure I will survive it again,” I reply, unable to keep the bite out of my tone.
“I made a mistake,” he replies, sighing with regret.
“I hope she was worth it,” I find myself saying. Why keep talking about it? No snide comments or words of regret and pain are going to change anything. What’s done is done. It can’t be reversed. All I can do is move on and let time heal the pain.
“She wasn’t,” he admits, looking down at his hands.
I look down. “I have to go, okay?”
“Just remember what I said about him.”
“Fine, warning noted,” I say, sliding into my car. Eric walks off, and I drive my ass home.
*****
Five weeks later
Dr. Reeves walks in, sitting down in his chair. He’s a kind man in his fifties and has been my doctor for a few years now. I’m pretty sure he keeps his lollipop jar stocked just for when I have an appointment.
“I need drugs, doc,” I tell him. “And lots of them.”
He doesn’t smile at my antics like he usually does. “You’re pregnant, Faye.”
I blink slowly. “I don’t think so.”
Now he fights a smile. “This test says you’re definitely pregnant.”
I look around the room, hoping for someone to jump out and tell me that this is a prank. “I don’t understand.”
His lip twitches. “When’s the last time you had sex? And when was your last period?”
“I have never had sex without a condom,” I blurt out, wringing my hands.
“Faye…”
“I guess, about six weeks ago.”
With a criminal.
“Condoms aren’t a hundred percent you know,” he reminds me calmly. My mind flashes to a certain episode of Friends, and I suddenly feel like yelling out that they should put that on the outside of the box.
“You remember what happened when I went on the pill,” I tell him. I tried it for a month, and it didn’t agree with me. I put on weight and felt like shit. Dr. Reeves said we could try another one, but I just said I would use condoms. Eric and I always used one, even though he tried to talk his way out of it a few times with the infamous ‘I promise I’ll pull out’ line.
Yeah—not a chance in hell.
“I wasn’t criticizing you, Faye, but you are pregnant,” he says kindly, pulling out some brochures from his drawer.
“I see,” I say, staring into empty space.
And I did see.
I saw my career and my life plans crashing. Evaporating. Vanishing.
Disappearing right before my eyes.
“You have options,” he says, sliding the brochures to me. But I don’t. I don’t have options, and my life is over. My parents will kick me out, my education is going to take a backseat to changing nappies, and the baby’s father is an outlaw biker. This kid doesn’t stand a chance. I’m pro-choice, but I could never have an abortion. That’s just not me. I stand up, the sound of the chair scratching on the floor filling the silent room.
“I’m keeping it,” I announce. Everyone else be damned.