Page 95 of Biker Daddies

“Say it again,” I ask or beg, I can’t tell.

“I’m pregnant,” she repeats, louder this time.

I stand so fast the ice pack falls to the floor. I’m the first one up and in two steps I’m in front of her. Wrapping her in my arms, I bring her to my chest and I close my eyes, those damn fucking emotions burning my chest. I lift her off the floor and she wraps her legs around me, her cheek pressing against my shoulder. Holding her like this hurts, but I’ll be okay.

She’s pregnant with our child. I don’t care who the father is biologically. We are in this together.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” I chant into her ear.

I have a family.

“Bane.” She kisses my neck and leans away. “You’re happy?”

“I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire life, Princess.” I wrap one arm around her, holding her tight before placing my hand against her stomach. “I fucking love him or her already.”

“My turn.”

Without hesitation, I carefully hand her over like precious cargo or glass.

“Sweetheart,” Alto smiles her nickname. “You just made our horrible day the best day of our lives.”

She kisses his check, then—carefully—his lips, but she doesn’t apply pressure. “Alto, your face,” she says sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” he says. “It led to this moment and I wouldn’t change this moment for anything.”

“Gimme,” Colt says, and Alto passes her along which makes her giggle. He kisses her senselessly, ignoring his split lip, but pulls away when it becomes too much. “We’re so happy, sweetness. So damn happy. How far along are you?” he asks.

“Oh my god, how did we not ask that? When are you due? When do we find out the sex?” Alto questions, but I don’t see how that matters.

I don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl. I just want to hold them in my arms and protect them how a parent is supposed to.

“Not far. They say not to tell people before twelve weeks. I’m around four weeks. So we can’t tell anyone.”

“Why do we have to wait?” Colt asks, concerned. “Is something wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s to make sure I don’t miscarry.”

“Miscarry? You can miscarry? Why? How? What can we do to make sure you don’t? I won’t fucking allow it. No. No.” I shake my head, those damn emotions Harlow unlocked have me reeling.

Harlow places her hand on my chest. “Shhh. No, Bane, it’s okay. I’m okay. The baby is healthy. Nothing is wrong. Sometimes, miscarriages just happen. Without reason. It’s just something we have to keep in mind.”

“I don’t like it.” I roll my head over my shoulders, wanting nothing more than to make her lie in bed for the duration of her pregnancy. Now, that’s an idea. I open my mouth to offer it and she shuts me up by smothering her hand over my mouth.

“Whatever idea you had, you can keep it to yourself because I know I won’t like it.” Her brows raise, waiting for me to say something, but I won’t.

I couldn’t ever make her do something she didn’t want to do.

“Okay, Princess.” I kiss her palm and lower her hand. “The house is big enough. More than big enough. We could all move into the master room, keep the rooms we have just in case we want a night alone with Harlow. The baby’s room can be right next to us. We can knock out that wall, right, Alto?” I ask him with excitement, the wheels spinning in my head. “I mean, the master—”

“—has room for a custom mattress to fit all of us so we”—Alto points to Colt and me—“don’t have to touch, because as much as we love you, sweetheart, I don’t want to touch them. But sleeping with you at night is something none of us want to give up.”

“Let me see it. I want to see!” She claps excitedly.

I hear the kitchen sink turn on for a second and Colt comes back with a wet towel in his hand, cleaning her cheeks of mascara.

“There we go. No more tears, okay?”

“I can’t promise that, Colt. I’m pregnant. I’ll probably cry at everything.”

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