Page 62 of Jasper
She makes a disgruntled sound and stomps away. I take the steps two by two to get away from her craziness.
The suite is quiet when I open the door. Lights off, curtains drawn, but the dim glow from the hallway spills in just enough to see her.
I find Tessa curled on my bed, one arm folded under her head, the other resting across her belly. Her breathing’s slow and steady. Peaceful. I don’t make a sound as I step in and shut the door behind me. She’s still wearing my Harley shirt, only with smart black jeans. The hem on her shirt is twisted from sleep. A pair of black boots are in front of the bed, along with a stack of bags. I can see baby stuff in the top of the bags.
Something keeps drawing me to this woman. And after my interaction with Silver, I know exactly what it is. I’m drawn to stability, not chaos. That’s the difference between Tessa and most of the women I’ve known.
I toe off my boots and leave my cut draped over the back of the chair and sit on the edge of the bed, careful not to shift the mattress too much. Then I decide, what the hell, I might as well join her. Easing down behind her, I drape one arm over her body, and my hand finds her belly. Light, resting over hers.
She’s not showing yet, but the knowledge of what’s growing there makes me want to touch her belly. I want our child to know that I’m here and anxious to meet them. This is something we didn’t ask for, but now it’s ours, and I’ll never let anyone take it away.
I try to put everything else out of my mind and enjoy this moment. I don’t want to think about how close those assholes came to touching her life. Now that they’ve seen us together, they see her as leverage. I can’t let them get to her or our unborn child. It’s as simple as that. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe.
Chapter 22
Tessa
I’ve been with Jasper for a little over three weeks. Being with him has been like a dream come true. He’s thoughtful, attentive, and kind, but he’s also every inch the rough and ready biker. Maybe our relationship didn’t have the most conventional of starts, but it really feels like we were meant to be together. I’m still staying in his suite at the clubhouse. The Hyenas haven’t made any more moves, but he says it’s not safe for me to be in my home. Now there are shelves in the closet with my folded sweaters. My boots are lined up next to his. The stack of mail on the dresser has my name on it. And his baby is growing.
Today we’ll have our first sonogram with our new OB/GYN. We decided to go with Dr. Krauss because Jasper wanted the best for his child as well.
He’s been quieter since the club meeting. He still touches me the same, still pulls me close at night, and still checks the windows when he thinks I’m not paying attention. But his mind’s in two places. I can see it even when he’s trying to hide it.
I don’t ask what he and the officers decided, because I know if I need to know, he’ll tell me. Until then, I don’t press. Trust is an important currency here. I spend it carefully.
The appointment’s just outside town. It’s a cute office that has forest wallpaper and laminated magazines no one touches. Today, I’m wearing leggings and one of Jasper’s flannel shirts. I’m not properly showing yet, but all my clothes are starting toget a bit tight. He offered to bring the truck, but I asked if we could ride the bike. I’ve really been enjoying riding pillion, I know in a few weeks it won’t be possible, so I want to make the most of being on the open road while I can. He hesitated for half a second, then said yes.
I think he needed the ride more than I did. He’s downstairs now, talking with Onyx and someone I don’t recognize. They’ve been running shifts again, quietly rotating people around the clubhouse perimeter. I hear the low murmur of their voices through the floor. Though there is some tension in their voices, it doesn’t sound like a crisis. I know whatever’s brewing isn’t done yet.
I sit at the edge of the bed and rest both hands over my stomach.
Today we’ll see the baby for the first time. Fingers, arms, maybe a profile. If they’re in the right position, they’ll tell us if we’re having a boy or a girl. I lie back on the bed, close my eyes, and allow myself to rest peacefully. I haven’t said it out loud yet, but I feel it in my heart—this baby is going to be the best thing that ever happened to me.
Jasper comes back upstairs an hour later and announces, “It’s time to head out. Are you ready?”
I get up, give my hair a quick brush, and we take off. Riding on the back of his bike feeds my soul in so many ways. It’s refreshing, a bonding opportunity for us, and a way to enjoy something that’s very important to the man I’m starting to fall in love with.
***
The ride into town is quiet. I loop my arms loosely around his waist holding him tight and feeling safe. Laying my head against his back, I watch the scenery moving by.
As always, we have a four-person armed escort. I know he’s not nervous about the roads. He’s thinking about the baby. About the things neither of us can control once we’re in that doctor’s office and someone with a degree starts talking percentages again.
The waiting room is everything I remember. Calming pastels, low chatter, and the occasional ring of a phone from the front desk. A set of parenting magazines on the corner table with titles about cloth diapers and baby-led weaning. Jasper sits beside me in the hard-backed chair, his arms crossed, his eyes scanning the room. He seems really uncomfortable with all the really big bellies.
Turning to me, he whispers, “Are you sure you can do this?”
He doesn’t even have to explain. I know he thinks the baby needs more room than I have inside me. “I got this. It’ll work just fine.” I’ll have to get into the intricacies of how most of these women were probably my size when they started their pregnancies.
He’s wearing a black, long-sleeved t-shirt with the sleeves pushed up. His cut is in the storage compartment on his bike. We agreed it might draw too much attention, and for once, he didn’t push back. Still, he looks deeply masculine in a room full of women in loose maternity dresses and polite smiles. One nurse keeps glancing at him between filing patient charts.
“I make everyone nervous,” he whispers.
“You’re a big scary biker, whether you wear your cut or not,” I tell him teasingly.
He glances sideways, mouth pulling into a small, tired grin. “Yeah, that’s true.”
Before we can talk more, they call my name. He stands before I do. It’s a small thing, but it makes me feel like he is there to help me if I need it. His hand stays low on my back as we walk down the short hallway, past closed doors and posters with smiling cartoon fetuses.
