Page 37 of Anchor

“I know, but the fact you agreed to this despite the shit your mom said over the years shows, despite the pain, how much you want this, and the fact you haven’t terminated your pregnancy after he tried to trap you….” He trails off as the sound of pipes echoes from outside. I groan, dropping my head, not only realizing Steal knows I’m pregnant but also why Travis told me to wear jeans and boots.

Steal chuckles, kisses my head, and rasps, “Like I said, you’re his everything, and don’t worry; he’ll ride safely, knowing you're carrying precious cargo. Now go and fall deeper in love with your husband.”

I sigh but nod and look around Steal at Micha, who grins wide at me from in front of the couch, basically bouncing on his toes.

I point at him. “No junk food after eight.”

He nods and quickly rushes over to me, kissing my cheek and making my smile go wide. I hug him tightly.

This boy is the best thing to ever happen to me; he shaped me into the person I am today, giving me the strength to keep moving forward, even if he did sabotage all my dates.

Kissing his head, I turn and open the front door. I walk out but halt at the sight of Travis sitting astride his dark red Harley in his usual biker boots, jeans, tank, and cut, with his black sunglasses on.

He tilts his head at me, and I raise a brow and state, “I’m not stupid, you know. I know only old ladies go on the back of brothers’ bikes.”

He grins and admits, “If I hadn’t fucked up, then you would be wearing my cut. Now, get your sexy ass on my bike, Heaven.”

I chew my bottom lip as I eye the machine. When we got married, he had a small 125cc Honda dirt bike, and now, he has a very large Harley. He got it a week after he patched in, a present from his dad, or so his sister said when she came round to beg me to take her brother back. All that was before his mom called me selfish.

I haven’t spent proper time with either of them in years.

“Come on, Angel, get your ass where it belongs,” he encourages me, and without my permission, my feet move toward him, and the smile that graces his handsome face makes my heart race.

“Dad will never give up, will he, Uncle Colt?” I hear my son say excitedly, and I know I’m screwed because, even without the shades, I know Travis is looking at me with determination, his eyes heating my skin.

“No, kid, he won’t. Your parents will be back together by Christmas,” Steal confirms, and I can’t even turn round and snap at him because I have a feeling he’s right.

As soon as I stand before my husband, he holds his hand out and says, “Swing your left leg over and pop your feet on the pegs, but keep your legs away from the pipes because they get hot, and I don’t fancy trashing my bike for hurting you, Angel.”

I swallow hard and take his hand, allowing him to help me onto his bike. I wobble a little, causing him to twist and grab my leg as I bring it down while keeping hold of my hand, keeping me balanced. Then, he wraps it around his waist as soon as I’m situated before he grabs my thighs and pulls me so I’m flush against his back. I catch sight of Steal and Micha high-fiving near the front door, making me snort.

Travis revs his bike, getting their attention. He salutes Steal and then points at Micha, warning him to be good before backing down the small drive.

“Okay, Angel, hold on tight,” he says loudly over the pipes before he spins away from the curb, making me squeal and hold him tighter as his laughter fills my ears. Instead of looking at the scenery, I lay my head on his back and close my eyes, enjoyinghis warmth through the blasting winds, wishing this was how it always was, wishing he never hurt me the way he did….

Travis gently rubs my thigh fifteen minutes later as he comes to a stop, and I look up only to freeze at the building before me.

This damn man.

“I wanted to go back to the beginning,” Travis says when I don’t move. “I wanted to remind you why you fell in love with me to begin with, to show you I’m still that guy who only saw the shy new girl.”

I sigh and drop my forehead against his back as I grip his shirt in the front and mutter, “You’re not playing fair, Trav….”

I feel his hand cover mine, still wrapped around his waist, as he replies, “I can’t afford to play fair, Angel, not when my life is at stake, whenyouare at stake,” before gently removing my hands and climbing off his bike.

I stay sitting astride his bike, my eyes on the bowling alley where he took me on our first date. It was also the first time he kissed me, which I have to admit was much better than Todd Tweenies kiss in fourth grade, where I punched him in the face for even pressing his lips against mine without my consent.

They were sticky and slimy at the same time.

“Angel,” Travis says, and I look his way and smile, making him grin as he takes a picture of me on his bike, then he puts his phone down at his side and mumbles, “So much better than sitting on the Honda.”

I snort and remind him, “Our son was conceived on that Honda, Travis.”

He grins and laughs, “That is the only reason I still have it.”

I shake my head and look down at my very small bump.

I’m only ten weeks, or so the OB stated yesterday, but the baby is healthy, which is good. I just wish I wasn’t so conflicted about its father. This is our second child together, and we’re what, dating?

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