Page 192 of American Hellhound
“Hey…” He was thrown by the relocation, grabbing at her warm. “Hey. Wait.”
“I’m trying to give the poor kid some space,” she explained. “She’s overwhelmed.”
He frowned. “Roman’s girlfriend?”
“Not his girlfriend, it turns out. They’re nottogethertogether.”
“What?”
“That was my reaction. Apparently, he’s been a perfect gentleman. Where Kristin’s concerned, anyway.”
Ghost looked almost disturbed by the news, which amused her.
“Surprise: Roman’s not as evil as you thought,” she teased.
“I never said he wasevil. He’s just a motherfucker.”
She chuckled, some of her tension melting away, taking her nausea with it.
Ghost seemed to shake off thoughts of his old nemesis and regroup. “I looked for you in the kitchen, but Ava said you felt sick.”
“Better now.”
He eyed her ginger ale.
“I am. Just…” She made a vague gesture toward her throat rather than explain about the stuffiness, and the kitchen smells, and…her general anxiety.
He braced a hand on the wall and stared down at her pensively, gaze a little distant; she didn’t think he was thinking about her, or them, or anything domestic – club business, of course – but he surprised her by saying, “Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?”
She’d just taken a sip of ginger ale and it fizzed dangerously in her throat as she fought to swallow it down. Her voice was a croak. “What made you think of that?”
He looked hurt by the question, in that unexpectedly vulnerable way he’d always had with her. “It’s my kid. I can’t be curious?”
She bit back a smile. Mostly. The corners of her mouth curled and he doubled down on his own expression. “You hoping for anything in particular?”
“Girl,” he said, immediately.
“Really? After that whole Ava/Mercy situation? You wanna go through that again?”
He winced. “Shit.” But: “Yeah, though, I do. Boys are…complicated.”
It saddened her to hear that. “You won’t be going through a divorce this time, though.” She thought of Aidan, his Spider-Man PJs, and the lonely desperation in his smiles.
Ghost shrugged and glanced away from her. “I’m a shit dad. It fucks up the boys worse, I think.”
“You’re not a shit dad,” she said, automatically.
He gave her a look.
“You…” Shit. “You were busy with the club, sometimes, sure. And you’re a hardass. You know that about yourself, and I don’t see you changing anytime soon. But you’re notshit, Kenny. Don’t say that.”
He snorted. “If it wasn’t for you, both our kids would be dead or on crack.”
She pretended to consider. “Well, Aidan might.” She was glad to see the flash of protest in his eyes; she knew how much he loved Aidan, but it was nice to see him show it every once in a while. “Kidding, kidding,” she said, smoothing a hand across his chest. “He was always better behaved than you gave him credit for.”
“He got somebody pregnant.”
“Well look at that, so did you. Like father, like son.”
