Page 1 of Choosing My Happiness
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Chapter 1 Daisy
The pain rolled through me. It was gaining in intensity. The pregnancy had been hard since before I worked out what was wrong with me. The morning sickness had been intense, and I still felt the nausea sometimes. Now, I was dealing with stitch-like pain stabbing through my body, getting stronger and then easing again. I gripped my belly and then the wall, breathing heavily. I didn’t know what was going on, and I was scared. I fumbled for the phone. I didn’t know who to call.
I took a breath as I felt the pressure begin to ease. Bathroom, maybe I needed to pee, hopefully that will fix whatever this is. Could it be a UTI? I stumbled into the small bathroom and pulled down my pants. When I noticed the streak of red in my underwear, I pressed my husband’s number and prayed.
“Blaze? Can you come home now? Please? Something’s wrong with the baby,” I pleaded into the phone as soon as hepicked up. I could hear the sounds of the club behind him. The loud raucous of the bikers trying to out-gloat each other.
“Daiz?! Okay, I’ll be home soon. I’m just relaxing after the shift. Don’t stress, it’s not good for the baby.” He hung up amidst the laughter. My husband, who promised to love and cherish, through sickness and in health, laughed as he hung up on me. My hands shook as I tried calling again. I kept swallowing the fear that was lodged in my throat.
The call connected as I sobbed. Thank God he answered again. I sniffed.
“Daisy?” I knew the voice, but it wasn’t Blaze. It was kinder, more mature. I took a guess.
“Bull?” My reaction was immediate relief that it wasn’t someone I’d have to argue with. He’d only been voted in as President of the Ares Riders for a year. For a year I had avoided most things to do with the club because my husband was an idiot around the boys, and my father was worse, but this was one man who no one had the power to contradict.
“What’s up, Darlin’,” he said soothingly. My breath caught at the gentleness in his voice. “Is something wrong with the baby?”
“I don’t know,” I replied shakily. “There’s blood.”
“Alright, I’m sending help. Where are you?” His voice gained the crispness of command.
“Um, at home, in the bathroom. Please, it hurts.”
“On our way, Darlin’. Just stay where you are.”
I dropped the phone from my ear. If anyone could get Blaze to listen, it would be Bull… or my Dad. But I knew Dad would just tell me to give Blaze some space, let him live his life. I curled my arms around my stomach as another cramp hit. This shouldn’t be happening. I was only 24 weeks pregnant. I sank to the floor beside the toilet.
It felt like hours before I heard the sounds of the motorbike. I sighed in relief. Help had arrived. Just then, another cramp hit and I curled over my pain again.
“It’s ok baby, Daddy’s arrived. It’ll be okay” I whispered to the little life inside of me. I heard the front door open and a strange voice call out.
“Daisy?”
My heart sank. It wasn’t Blaze. I didn’t know who it was. But Bull said he’d send help. I took a chance. “In here,” I yelled.
A young man in a plain leather vest came into sight.
“Hi, I’m Jim… Bull–um, Blaze–um, the club sent me over,” He stammered, his eyes wide open in shock. The kid was young, made younger with his clean-shaven face and innocent grey eyes.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, squashing my disappointment down. It was obvious. Bull hadn’t been able to convince Blaze to check on his own wife and child, so he had to send a prospect. A prospect who had no business looking at an ol’lady, let alone rescuing her. But he was the one who was sent. I had to step outside of the rules too, shifting expectations that were ingrained in me throughout childhood.
“Can you take me to the hospital?” I breathed as the pressure eased. “I’m 24 weeks pregnant and bleeding. The car is in the garage. Keys are near the door.”
I tried to get up on my feet and wobbled.
“Whoa.” The prospect grabbed me by my shoulders and steadied me on my feet. “You don’t look too good,” he said simply. I almost burst into tears at the concern in his voice. He sounded like a normal person, not a prospect who was bound by the rules of a motorcycle club. The prospect stepped up beside me.
“I got you.” He moved my arm over his shoulder and picked me up in his arms.
“Where are the keys? Let’s do teamwork. You grab them and navigate us to the car. I’ll get us there and then drive.”
I finally burst into tears. Tears of relief. I wasn’t dealing with this alone anymore. And the person helping me might wear club colours, but he wasn’t backing away like he should. I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.
“Deal,” I blubbered.
We grabbed the keys and my phone, and he had me sitting in the car in no time. As he went around to the driver’s door, I heard him call someone on the phone and check in.
