MC Bear My Baby (Beartooth Brotherhood MC) (9 page)

“
I
f you want
results I expect you to wait out there, Tate. I don’t pee on command, and not with an audience.”

He frowned and rolled his eyes stepping back when he realized he’d followed her into the restroom stall of the grungy gas station bathroom. Molly still didn’t believe him, so she demanded that they stop here on the way home, ready to take the pregnancy test he just paid for so she could prove him wrong. Dammit he wished he was wrong, but that was not the case. Molly was pregnant, he knew it in his hard-as-nails, sinful, kinky bear soul. Once she figured it out for herself he’d have the job of keeping his cool, and probably hers too.

There wasn’t a question about whether she was pregnant.

She was, and the kid was his.

Tate knew it for a fact, and although she’d never admit it, Molly had only been sleeping with him all this time. He was the only one whoring around out of the two of them. Of course, he was the asshole. He was the jackass. Dread ate at his gut, making him nervous as hell until he had to shift his weight from one foot to the other just to stop himself from bolting off. He exhaled a long breath and scrubbed his grubby palm down his face.

Unbelievable.

Un-fucking-believable.

How long would it have been before she figured out she was carrying a kid?

His kid.

Probably a few more months, if he hadn’t shifted.

This was it for sure. Life as he knew it was done. Everything would change as soon as this baby came. He’d have to step up and be a father. God…a father? Daddy? Papa? Dad? Christ, no child should ever have
him
as a parent, let alone own possess part of his genetic code. The kid could easily end up all fucked up with mental problems out the ass.

Will
. The kid
will
…

Tate kicked the trashcan in the corner outside the bathroom stall, crouching down with his head in his hands as trash spilled all over the floor.

Molly made a noise on the other side of the stall door.

“I can’t do this… I can’t look.”

How would she even handle a baby that was half bear shifter? Tate shuddered at the idea. What the hell was a half bear shifter? He’d never seen one. All the babies at the clubhouse were one hundred percent shifters. They all had both a momma bear and a papa bear, not a human and a screwed up borderline crazy bear. He hung his head between his knees, slowly letting his ass hit the disgusting floor. His life was over. No more fun, no more whoring it out. He’d be switching his little black book to keeping a little black onesie in case of accidents. His lack of sleep now would no longer be because of too much partying…eight months from now it’d be on account of too much pooping and teething and night feedings. Tate made a face. Was there any way to forget this was even happening? He wanted that option. A big old out sounded like just what the doctor ordered.

Behind him, Molly made a painful groaning noise, somewhere between a strangled sob and a gasp that made his fingers clench into fists at his sides.

“Oh Christ…no…no…”

He couldn’t look at her now. Not while she fell apart because she was carrying his baby. It must be fucking hell on earth to know she was knocked up with hell’s spawn, but shit, did she have to act as if she were dying? Her sobs seemed extra loud thanks to the bathroom acoustics and he was so numb he didn’t think he could get off his ass to comfort her if his life depended on it.

Besides, he really fucking doubted she wanted him to touch her right now.

A small part of him took offense as another racking sob hit his ear drums like a smack in the face.

“It’ll be okay,” he said on autopilot, dull, as if he were sinking in a giant tank of water. The words were hollow to his own ears.

“I’ve got to take another test. This one has to be busted,” Molly said between the panicked crying.

“It’ll say the same thing, but if you want another test, I’ll get you one.” He got to his feet, relieved to at least temporarily get away. He stumbled back to the gas station concession area and found another test. Hell, he picked up two this time. She’d probably want another. After paying, he took them back to her, passing them over the stall door so he wouldn’t have to open the door and look her in the eye. She snatched it from his hands and was silent for a while.

“I can’t pee for a while. Let’s just get back to the clubhouse. I’ll check it then. Crap, I need a drink. Shit! I can’t have a fucking drink if this is really happening. Oh Gawwwwwwd…”

Now that made her bawl.

Jesus, was the news really
that
bad? He wouldn’t split on her or the kid, though the idea held its charm. He dug his nails into his palms until stabbing pain washed up his forearms. It was time to man up and own up to his mistakes, which from the sound of Molly’s sobbing was exactly what this development was—a life changing, wrecking ball of a blunder.

“I have to tell Silas and the brothers as soon as we get back.”

This way they could confront what she really felt when she played it off like she was in denial. It was better to get this out in the open, to talk it all out now so he could harden himself to the idea that she loathed him. A pang of regret made him clutch his stomach while he listened to her put herself back together—without his help. Because he was useless right now, and couldn’t get his own shit together to be there for her too.

“Yes…we do…” she said, stepping out of the stall. Her hoarse voice had still agreed with him.

“You okay to go home?” He smoothed his hands down his pants and looked everywhere but at Molly, too afraid of what he’d see in her expressive light blue eyes when she looked at him.

“Home?”

“I, uh, meant the MC.”

There was a beat of silence and he blindly reaching a hand out to take her hand—now that she was in a delicate condition. The term almost made him puke in his mouth.

“That’s fine.” She sniffled and took his offered hand, but she was shaking like a leaf now.

“Okay.”

It was all the things they didn’t say that really meant anything anymore.

* * *

L
et
’s just add horrible at my fucking job to the list of things wrong with me too.

Tate sped past the road sign about five minutes out from the Beartooth Brotherhood clubhouse. On their way out of the bathroom he found a note taped to the gas tank of his bike. He’d only seen it under the light of the gas station, which was fucked up because he was sure it wasn’t there outside the fight club. The note was from Molly’s ex. Jett let them know he’d been watching them both and wasn’t fond of what was going on between them. Tate had gone apeshit, searching the parking lot and looking around everywhere, but he’d turned up nothing. At that point Molly just wanted to go home and he couldn’t blame her at all. The idea of the guy watching them, probably following them all this time, made Tate want to stab something. Part of him knew he should have been doing more back at the underground club. He could have caught the bastard back there, but instead, let him slip through the cracks.

When they drove into the clubhouse parking area, Molly’s hands tightened around his waist for the first time since they left the gas station. With slightly shaky hands, he switched off the bike and helped her off before strolling inside, acting like this was an ordinary night and nothing in his world had shattered into eight million pieces. If anyone looked at Molly, they’d know something was up. She looked like hell after that girl-fight, and now this.

Tate cleared his throat, still hedging his bets that she would back out on telling everyone in the clubhouse. “So…how do you want to do this?”

“Like pulling off a Band-Aid.”

Ouch. He guessed he deserved that…sort of. He shrugged and they headed inside. He eyed the bar, intent on getting epically shitfaced after they told the guys. Once they knew, especially the old ladies, he could hang up his hero hat for the night and take a load off his mind. The less he could remember about today, the better.

“Hey, look who it is,” Axe called out from his usual space behind the bar. He was mixing a shaker of cocktails, about to pour three glasses for the twisted claws waiting impatiently. “We were wondered if trouble found you. Any updates on the sick son of a bitch stalker yet?”

“We, uh, have all sorts of news…actually,” Molly said, taking a seat at the bar.

Tate immediately noticed her staring longingly at the twisted claws’ drinks. He winced when he recalled the whiskies she’d downed earlier and hoped those didn’t already fuck up the kid.

Fuck, that was a sobering thought.

If this was really happening he needed to do a lot more research.

Axe was all curiosity, rubbing his hands together as he raised his eyebrows. “Hit me!”

“Not before you hit me first, bro.” Tate motioned for a glass.

Axe shrugged one shoulder and slid over a half-full whiskey glass in his direction. This was no time for those tiny shots, and Axe must have seen something in his eyes to know this. Tate shot the liquid back and down his throat, signaling for another. Maybe Axe should have slid over the whole damn bottle. That was the kind of earth-shattering news they were about to share. Silas was in the meeting room with Dean, so Axe sent one of the male members to go wake up Cole while he walked over and rapped his knuckled on the meeting room door. Within ten minutes, Silas, Cole, Dean and Axe were looking at Tate and Molly, waiting to hear the update.

Even a few of the officers and members gathered around.

That didn’t stop Molly from blurting shit out.

“I’m pregnant…” Molly threw it out there into the room. No taking it back. She ripped that Band-Aid off, just like she said.

“That’s one way to do it,” Tate muttered, taking a huge burning gulp of his second drink.

The whole bar went dead silent, worse than crickets. It felt like even the music stopped. He couldn’t even tell if anyone moved even an inch while he nursed his drink as if it was the last one he’d ever have in his life.

“Is this some kind of practical joke you two came up with on the ride home?” Cole shot them both an unreadable look. His brows drew down and knit together with skepticism. Yeah, it was a little past his bedtime the old man wasn’t a happy camper.

“Nope. Read my lips. This is no fucking joke. She’s carrying my kid,” Tate supplied, downing the rest of his drink.

“We don’t know that for sure,” Molly suggested, to which the rest of the guys shook their head. They’d know if they shifted too, so Tate wasn’t worried.

Cole hit the top of the bar with the flat of his hand. “Okay. Looks like I win the pool. Pony up the cash, boys.” He laughed hard, clearly not concerned with their news all that much.

“Uh? What the fuck?”

He looked around him at the various brothers and officers and even general members who started slapping crumpled ten and twenty dollar bills in front of Cole. They had a god damn bet going? Seriously?

“When the fuck was I going to find out about this shit, huh?”

“Never, buddy. Kind of fucks up the betting pool when the person being betted on knows what’s going down,” Silas squeezed his shoulder and offered up his own huge wad of cash, congratulating Cole, his VP, on the win. Silas turned to Tate. “Should I be congratulating you too, Daddy?” Tate cringed at the name and ducked his head. “What about you, momma bear? You doing okay?”

Silas went in for a hug with Molly, and the girl sunk into his chest, looking like the tears would start up again. She clung to his president. Tate quickly let go of the glass before it shattered in his hands.

“Ah, so it really was a surprise, then?” Silas looked over Molly’s head when she didn’t answer, making eye contact with Tate to hear it from him. Something in Tate’s expression must have read
back the fuck off
, because Silas subtly moved away from Molly and gave Tate a light nod.

“What’s going on down here? It’s like someone died…” Silas’s mother, Cindy, came down the stairs and Tate knew in one glance she’d pick up on the fact that something was going down. Even someone who hadn’t been fucking him on and off for a while could tell.

Yeah, kicking it with the boss’s momma wasn’t exactly a fabulous idea. Most of his ideas in his young life had sucked, and this was no different. He was sure he needed a conversation with Cindy in private—then again, Molly could do it. They’d had a threesome, after all. It’d probably go over well coming from Molly.

“I’m pregnant,” Molly blurted out, taking a sip from the bottle of water Axe had given her. “Does that sum it up for you?”

“You man-trapping bitch!” One second, Cindy was perched on the last step of the stairs and the next, she had her finger in front of Molly’s face, yelling up a storm.

“Jesus Christ!” Tate leapt up from the bar and stood in between them. He did not see that coming, not from Cindy.

The older lady tilted her body to the side to get a look at Molly around Tate’s torso. “It’s easy to snag a man, honey, but getting knocked up? That’s desperate. You’re using the oldest play we got in the book, and after all this time you think you’d come up with something more goddamn original.” Cindy reached her hand towards Molly’s throat, and Silas had to yank his mother up and off to the side to separate them. In his old days—like less than forty-eight hours ago—if this had turned into a fight, it would have been the best thing to happen to him. Now, not so much. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed at the loss.