Page 59 of Fletch

“Can we at least go somewhere to talk?”

He shakes his head. “No. You’re not welcome in here.”

“I can’t say what I need to at the gate, Fletch.”

“Then don’t fucking tell me,” he snaps, turning and heading back to the clubhouse.

“I got pregnant before,” I blurt. He stops, keeping his back to me for at least a minute before slowly turning to face me. I swallow the huge lump forming in my throat.

“Open the gate,” he barks in Smoke’s direction.

The gate begins to creek as it opens, and the second he can step out, he grabs my arm and shoves me back towards my car. “Get in,” he growls. He rounds the passenger side and gets in. “Drive.”

“Where?”

“Your place.”

“No. We can’t go there.”

He turns in his seat. “When? How?”

I grip the wheel, fixing my stare on the empty road ahead. “I found out after I found you with Kate.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me you were pregnant?”

“I was upset.”

“Who went with you?”

I frown, bringing my eyes to his. “Huh?”

“For the abortion, who took you? Who looked after you?”

My mouth opens and closes a few times before I say, “I didn’t get an abortion.”

His frown deepens. “You don’t have a kid. I’ve been to your house. Did you give it up?”

“Sort of.”

“You’re not making sense, Gemma,” he barks. “Where’s the kid now? Is it a boy or girl?”

“Girl,” I say with a small smile. “She’s at my place.”

He pauses, staring at me while he gathers his thoughts. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I thought you should know.”

He slams his hand against the dashboard, and I wince, jumping in fright. “Why now?”

“Because . . .”

“To pull me back in, is that it?” he spits.

“No . . . I just . . .”

“You think I’ll come crawling back for a kid I don’t even know?”

“I know it’s a shock,” I try, but he slams his hand down again.

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