Page 43 of Kneeling to Candy

“Not gonna lie—it’s rough. But what’s going to hurt more? Keeping your feelings inside long term or ripping the Band-Aid off to hash it out?”

Dammit, Opal’s right.

She pats my knee one last time before placing her hands on her belly. “Talk to Butch. It’ll all work out. And the next thing you know, you’ll be walking around with a baby of your own.”

My grimace can’t be restrained.

Opal notices. Her eyes widen. “Um, do you not want kids?”

All this talk of babies makes me nauseated, ironic since I’m not pregnant and I have no intention of becoming a mother.

“Motherhood isn’t in my cards.”

“Oh.” Opal bites her bottom lips before hesitantly asking, “By choice?”

Her question has roots digging into my abusive past. “This is the one thing I’ve known about myself since an early age. I don’t want to be a mother.”

“I’m sorry if I’m being nosey. Can I ask why?”

The question is intrusive, but I’m not offended. Opal isn’t asking out of malice. She’s asking to understand.

“As long as I can remember, I’ve been surviving—from when I grew up with druggy parents to being forced to sleep with Lorenzo Bianchi’s customers. I’m finally living for myself, Opal. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but I don’t want to share my life taking care of a kid. I want to share it with a partner, doing what we want, when we want.”

I expect pushback from a baby-loving mother-to-be. Yet Opal surprises me. “I get it.”

“You do?” I ask, baffled.

“Yeah, I do. It’s not selfish to live child-free. Not everyone wants kids. And that’s fine. This is your life. You live it the way you want.”

My mind is boggled with how accepting my friend is of my choice. “Not everyone would agree with you.”

“No one else matters in your choices. Is Butch willing to be child-free?”

Butch! Shit.

We’ve never talked about kids. I don’t have a clue if he wants a family like many of his brothers do.

Hell, we had unprotected sex last night. Getting pregnant never came up.

Opal’s brow creases. “Candy? Are you okay?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I need Plan B.”

The doorbell rings. We jump in our seats, startled.

Opal goes to the door, opening it. With a hitch in her voice, she says, “Hi, Butch. Come in.”

Crap. He’s here, like he said he’d be. And I’m far from ready to have an honest discussion with him.

My insides twist with anxiety. I peek around my chair, seeing my biker wordlessly make his way into the house. His eyes zone in on me like the bull’s-eye of a target, bringing his fine ass right to my side. He holds out his hand for me to take, waiting patiently.

Nervous, I place my shaking hand in his. He helps me from the chair and quietly guides me back to the door.

Opal looks between us with wide blue eyes. She stops me before Butch can pull me from the house. “Call if you need anything.”

By her tone, I realize anything means emergency contraceptive.

I give her a tight smile before I follow Butch outside into the cool fall air.

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