Page 39 of Grace's Redemption
I waited for a reply, but it never came.
I didn’t have to wait to be summoned to the clubhouse again; I changed my clothes and drove over there to get it over with.
The clubhouse was full of people, I walked in and spotted Mase and Papa huddled in the corner with the rest of the leadership of the club.
Mase was no longer a junior lieutenant. He’d joined his father in the brain trust.
I sat in the lounge and watched for signs, anything that would explain what I saw and why it happened. It all seemed like business as usual.
I watched Mase. He sensed when I entered the room, just like I did with him.
His face hadn’t changed.
The smile was gone. When he looked at me, I saw disgust and regret. I couldn’t explain either of them and it broke my heart and turned my world upside down.
Mase’s devotion for the club intensified. Maybe it was Papa Scott’s plan all along.
Derrick had disappeared. Not from the club, but from being in the middle of it all. I found him sitting off to the side, nursing something with a scowl on his face.
The other brothers let him be. I felt it in my heart that something was off.
I climbed up on a bar stool next to him. He brought the glass to his lips, but sat it down and turned away from me.
He stood up.
I grabbed his arm.
“Derrick, wait.” He looked around and slowly lowered himself back in the seat. Derrick’s normal model looks had disappeared under his ashen complexion and dark circles around his eyes. “You need to get some sleep.” I rubbed his arm.
“I can’t.” He slumped his shoulders and turned back toward the bar. He downed the shot he had left on the bar. The prospect working the bar looked at me and filled his glass again.
“What’s wrong?”
Derrick stared at me like I had worms coming out of my head.
“Mattie’s dead.” He said.
“I know and it’s awful and we are all grieving, but instead of turning toward your brothers, you’re in here downing tequila shots and getting pissed drunk.”
“We all handle grief in our own way.” He nodded.
“That’s what your training taught you.” I stuck the tip of my finger in his tequila and sucked on it. I’d done it out of habit, but again, Derrick leveled a look on me.
“What?”
“You’re pregnant.” He leaned in and whispered.
“Not anymore.” I said, grinned, grabbed his shot and downed it.
I wanted to spew the dark liquid as soon as it hit my throat. One shot wouldn’t hurt my baby would it?
I had doubts about my stupid plan.
“What do you mean?” he said.
“I’m not pregnant anymore.” I reached for the bottle.
He grabbed my arm. His eyes narrowed and then grew wide.
