He Chose the MC Princess Over Me While I Was Secretly Pregnant With His Heir, Now He Wants Us Back novel · Chapter 3 of 32

Chapter 3: Eight Weeks

Boone says Amos cornered him and Lena refuses the excuse, until Amos arrives with eight patched men to take the old lady back to the table.

I went out the side door of Room 6 in yesterday's jeans, and I did not hurry.

Boone heard the screen door and lifted his head.

He looked like he had not slept.

There was gravel dust on his knees, and the skin under his eyes was gray.

"Lena."

"You're on Birdie's property," I said. "She doesn't like trouble."

"I'm not here for trouble."

He held up the photo in two fingers.

"A prospect found this in the lot at noon. He brought it to me at the cemetery."

"And?"

"And I spent twelve hours reading the back of it." His voice cracked on the last word. "It says eight weeks, Lena."

"I can read, Boone."

"Is it mine?"

I almost laughed.

Nine years of marriage, and that was the question he came up with.

"Don't," I said. "Don't you dare ask me that in front of this motel."

"That's not what I meant."

"It's exactly what you said."

He shut his eyes.

"God. I'm sorry. I didn't sleep. I meant, you didn't tell me. You were going to tell me?"

"At the grave," I said. "After the ride. I had a speech."

His whole face changed.

I watched it happen, and I hated that a part of me wanted to catch him when he swayed.

"You were going to tell me at my father's grave."

"I had thought about it a lot. I thought it would be the one place you couldn't get pulled away."

He took a step toward me.

I put out my hand flat, and he stopped where he was.

"Forty men watched her climb on that bike," I said. "You know what I did? I stood there with a tray of coffee for your prospects."

"Lena."

"Every man who ever ate my pot roast. Not one of them said, that's Lena's seat."

"I know."

"You didn't look back, Boone. I stood right there and you didn't even turn your head."

"I couldn't."

"That's not a reason. That's the thing I'm telling you hurt."

He swallowed.

"Amos got me at the cemetery gate before the ride. He said the club would vote me out tonight if the founder's family wasn't seen on my bike. Just for the ride. One ride, Lena, to hold the line, and then I'd put it right with you."

"So you put it right with me by letting her hold your waist?"

"I was going to explain it. I was going to tell you tonight."

"In front of forty men you'd have said it to my face, and I'd have said sure, Boone, whatever the club needs." I shook my head. "You knew I would. That's why you didn't ask me."

He had no answer.

I could see him looking for one, and I could see him not finding it.

"I know what it looks like," he said at last.

"It looks like exactly what it was."

"I want to fix this."

"With what?" I asked. "You can't ride it back. She sat on it. They all saw her sit on it."

"Then tell me what I do."

"You don't do anything. I'm going to eat breakfast. Then I'm going to see a doctor. You're going to go home."

"I'm not leaving you here."

"You left me in a parking lot yesterday," I said. "I can do this one without you."

He put the photo in his shirt pocket, over his heart, and I did not ask for it back.

His eyes were wet, and he didn't wipe them.

Then the diner door banged open behind me.

Birdie had come out onto the step with a dish towel in her fist, and she wasn't looking at either of us.

She was looking at the highway.

I turned.

A line of headlights was coming up the road in the early light, slow and close together.

Six bikes, then eight.

They turned into the Lost Trail gravel one after another and cut their engines.

Amos Dawes got off the lead bike in his pressed black vest, with his silver ponytail tied at the neck.

He took off his rimless glasses and wiped them on his sleeve.

"Morning, Boone," he said. "Morning, Mrs. Gallagher."

He smiled at me.

"The club wants its old lady back at the table."

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