Page 47 of Cole (Dirty Misfits MC 4)
He furrowed his brow. “Does what matter?”
“Whether or not the baby is yours. Does it even matter?”
He blinked. “Of course, it matters. If you’re pregnant with my child, I deserve to know.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “And again, are you sure about that?”
“Why the hell would you think otherwise? You didn’t strike me as the kind of girl to keep that from someone.”
“Says the man who won’t check his voice messages, his texts, or return any of my calls.”
He closed his eyes. “I swear, there is a perfectly good explanation for all of it. Is the pregnancy what you were calling me about?”
“Actually, I think I’d like to know your explanation first.”
“What?”
I motioned toward him. “Your explanation. This massive reason why you can’t use your hand to answer your phone. I’d like to know what it is.”
“Molly, that isn’t—”
“Is it another woman?”
He sputtered. “I—what—you—uh, no? Why in the world would you—”
I tapped my foot against the warm grass. “Did you simply get bored of me?”
He sighed. “No, Molly, I didn’t get bored with you.”
“Was the sex not good enough?”
His eyes held mine. “The sex was fantastic, and you know it.”
“Yeah, I do.”
He licked his lips. “So, it is mine, isn’t it?”
I shook my head. “You don’t get the satisfaction of hearing me say anything until you tell me—”
“I can’t tell you, Molly! Okay!?”
He raised his voice at me so loudly that everyone around us stopped to stare. And that was when I made the decision. That was when I decided that I deserved better. Bryson deserved better.
Maybe Cole walking away was the best thing to happen to all of us.
“Come on, Rue! We need to go home!” I exclaimed.
Cole shook his head. “No, no, no. Please, Molly. I’m begging you. Don’t do that.”
I snapped my fingers. “Come here, girl! There’s a good girl. We need to get you home and take a nap. How’s that sound?”
He gripped my upper arms. “Molly, I’ll get on my knees and beg if that’s what it takes.”
I glared at him. “Take your hands. Off me. Now.”
He sighed as he released me. “Molly, I swear there’s—”
I held up my hand. “I’m done with you.”
He scoffed. “Molly, come on. You and I both know—”
I pointed up into his face as my voice hissed at him. “You don’t know shit about me, Cole. Remember that. You were in my life for less than a couple of weeks and then you were out the fucking door and I haven’t seen you for six fucking months. And now you wanna roll up on me with your guard down acting like the wounded puppy dog when you’re the one who shattered my heart on the side of the street and left me for dead. And you want me to accommodate you? How pompous and arrogant can you get, you absolute asshole?”
He clenched his jaw. “I swear, beautiful, if you just sit and listen to me, you’ll underst—”
I slapped Rue’s leash on her. “Just leave me alone, Cole. That’s all I’m asking at this point.”
And without another word spoken, I walked away from him. I walked away from the man I had been missing and pining over for months. I walked away from the father of my child, the man who made me come alive, and the one person I had wanted to see for weeks upon weeks on end.
Because at the end of the day, I deserved better. I deserved someone who would stick around. Who wouldn't try to blame their bad decisions on excuses, no matter how warranted the excuses were. I deserved a man, not a boy. So, I walked away from the boy that Cole had turned into, hoping that someday he’d approach me like the man I knew he could be.
Then maybe—just maybe—we could be the family I had been dreaming about every night for the past six god damn months.
Twenty-Three
Cole
She had changed so much. Her words were stronger and the determination behind her eyes seemed to multiply into the thousands since I had left. And she was right, I didn’t have any leeway to demand anything of her or ask her for any sort of favors. But this changed everything. If she really was carrying my child, then she needed protection. Money. She needed a safe place to fall and a nursery. She needed diapers and formula if she didn’t want to breastfeed.
Shit, was she going to breastfeed?
Go after her, you imbecile.
As if my feet had been lit on fire, I rushed toward her waddling body. Her hips had blossomed into thick, luscious dollops of desire and her stomach had grown to accommodate the life she grew inside of her. And as my eyes traced over the juiciness of her body, my heart pounded in my throat.
Before I reached out and captured her arm. “Molly, please.”
