Making Choices (Black Shamrocks MC Book 2) (36 page)

“Okay. Lie back. This is a bit cold, but you’ll get used to it.”

Squirting the cold gel on my lower abdomen, I reach for Lucas’s hand when she runs the wand across it. Our knuckles turn white from the death grip we have on each other.

Biting my bottom lip, I turn to face the screen, tears welling when the sound of the heartbeat echoes around the room.

“Fuck me,” Lucas utters with awe.

Watching his face as Abby starts taking measurements, running the wand back and forth and up and down over my stomach as she presses buttons, I feel like my heart is going to burst out of my chest. Happiness and contentment oozes from him as he gazes with wonder at the flailing arms and legs.

“So I’d estimate that you’re fifteen, nearly sixteen weeks along,” Abby announces.

Pressing a button on the keyboard, two photos spit out the side of the machine.

Handing them to Lucas, she melts when she takes in his expression.

“A bit further than you expected?” she questions me. I nod.

“I’ve been feeling sick for months, but only just put two and two together.” I laugh. “I was
almost
one of those women who gave birth on the toilet, never knowing they were pregnant.”

We laugh together as she wipes the gel off my belly. I need to pee so badly, the liter of water I had to drink in preparation is making its presence known when I move.

Lucas coughs, interrupting us. He clears his throat, looking uncomfortable.

“Um, can I do any damage if I get a bit, uh, rough? She said the baby was the size of a walnut. She was wrong...” he trails off, staring at me through eyes filled with accusation.

I try my hardest not to laugh at him.

“You’re right. The baby is more like the size of an avocado, but you still can’t do any damage. They’re very well protected in there.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “Even if I’m on the bigger side of things?”

Now it’s my turn to blush red. “Damn it, Lucas. There’s no need to advertise.”

Abby shakes her head at me.

“Lucky bitch,” she drawls, throwing the tissues she wiped me off with in the bin.

“I have another patient. Make an appointment for a month’s time. We’ll see if we can find out the gender for you then.”

The door closes behind her, leaving us alone.

Pulling me from the bed, he settles me into his lap, one arm around my waist, the other holding one of the pictures Abby gave him in front of us.

We stare at them, and then at each other. The grin that covers his face is huge. It reaches all the way to his eyes, making the blue appear warmer than its usual icy hue. The contentment I felt around him earlier when he watched the baby on the monitor is still present—if anything, it’s growing.

He traces the outline of the baby with his fingertip.

“I hope she has your little button nose, not my honker.”

Running a finger down the center of his slightly larger-than-ordinary nose, I smile at him. “She?” I ask in a tiny voice. Does he have the same vision of our future that I have?

“Yeah, she. Just a feeling I have.”

Placing me on my feet, he pulls me toward the door.

“Back to the real world, I guess.”

At his reminder of the turmoil facing the people I’m coming to care for, the people I’m coming to think of as more of a family to me than my own, I straighten my shoulders.

I’m ready to help where I can.

If I’ve learned anything lately, it’s that the Black Shamrocks can get through whatever is thrown at them—as long as they stick together. 

JJ

Five Months Later

“I
t hurts,” I whine.

I’m aware of how pathetic I sound, but I can’t stop.

“I can’t do it anymore. Make it go away.”

Everyone tells you how much childbirth hurts. I listened to their stories, certain that if they could all handle it, then I could. They all lied, though, none of them telling me that it feels as if an invisible demonic man—and it has to be a man because not even the meanest woman alive would inflict this on their own gender—has both hands inside your stomach, twisting and knotting your insides with sick delight while you suffer from the worst menstrual cramps imaginable—all while you burn alive.

“I need drugs. Give me an epidural. NOW!”

I scream, the guttural sound that leaves me hurting my ears as the cramping kicks up another notch.

“Shhh, it’s okay. Ride it out. Breathe, Doll. Innnn and ouuuut.” Lucas’s calm voice breaks through my shrieking. He’s following our birth plan to a T.

Staying calm.

Encouraging my breathing.

Rubbing my back.

Denying me drugs no matter how much I beg.

Right now, I want to tear up my drug-free, natural birth plan and set it on fire.

With Lucas. I want to set him on fire too. Then I’ll tell
him
to breathe through it.

Finding energy from an untapped source as the contraction eases slightly, I sit up as far as I can and grab him by the front of his shirt. Pulling his face to mine, I gnash my teeth at him.

“You did this to me! Now I’ve got to get your oversized child out of me. I hate you. I’m going to kill you when this is over.”

Another contraction grips me, and I throw myself back onto the bed.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I scream, reaching for Lucas’s hand. I squeeze it so tight that I can feel his bones protesting, but he doesn’t pull away or make a sound. 

“She’s close. Once they start swearing, it’s nearly time to push.” Mama C’s soothing voice breaks through the red haze of pain. I settle a bit at the reminder that the woman I now think of as my mother is here to help me.

After my parents disowned me when they found out about the baby and my relationship with a biker, she stepped up and helped me through it. Taking me under her wing, she’s been one of my biggest supporters throughout my difficult pregnancy. She knows what I’m going through—she’s given birth to three gigantic Blake children herself. We’re the only people who will
ever
understand the added stress of carrying a baby the size of the average three-month-old. 

Pushing my sweaty hair out of the way, she places a cool cloth on my forehead.

“Now, JJ. Let’s breathe together. This granddaughter of mine is ready to make an appearance.”

I pant away in time with her instructions, riding out the non-stop contractions as the doctor examines me to see how far dilated I am.

Another contraction begins, almost before the last one has finished.

“JJ, I need you to push,” the doctor instructs.

Mama C and Lucas hold my legs in the air, bent at the knee. I push as hard as I can, each time trying harder than the last.

Nothing happens.

Everything keeps hurting, but nothing happens.

“She’s too big,” I moan. “I can’t do it.”

Checking the feedback from the monitoring belt around my waist, the doctor frowns.

“One more try. If you don’t progress this time, I’m calling for a C-section. The baby is becoming distressed.”

Fear grips me. Please, God, the baby
has
to be okay.

I try my hardest to swallow my fear, knowing that we’re in the best place for this type of thing. Lucas isn’t so calm.

He begins to panic.

“Fuck that. Take her for one now.”

He moves as though to grab the doctor, to force him to take me away. Thankfully, Mama C stops him. I’m helpless to intervene, a contraction taking me by surprise, ending my small respite.

“Oh. Oh. Lucas.” I hold my hand out for him, waving for him to come back and help me. He moves blindingly quickly to my side.

Legs in the air again, I push again when I’m told to.

This time something happens.

I listen intently, pushing when I’m told to, holding off when directed.

“Push.”

“Push again.”

“Once more time, and this is over.”

A loud cry erupts. She sounds healthy, annoyed at being ejected from her warm home, but healthy.

“Congratulations. We have a baby boy.”

“A boy?” My voice cracks. “You’re wrong. We’re having a girl.”

Pushing myself up, I cradle the baby to me when
it’s
placed on my chest. My mind can’t grasp the doctor’s words.
A boy?

I watch as Lucas cuts the umbilical cord. He has tears in his eyes, his hands shaking as he does the honors. Handing the special scissors to the doctor, he makes his way to the head of the bed.

I ask again, “A boy?”

“A boy, JJ. He’s definitely a boy.” Pulling the blanket open, he shows me that he’s telling the truth. Laughter bubbles from my chest, scaring our son, who squawks. Eyes open, he looks at us all, his little mouth wide as his squawk turns into a full-blown wail.

“We know he’s a Blake. Loud enough to wake the dead already.” Mama C chuckles as she comes to stand with us at the side of the bed. She strokes a finger down the side of his chubby cheek, and he settles. “Look at that. Grandmama has the magic touch already.”

Passing our son to Lucas so I can breathe through the after pains, I close my eyes and concentrate on getting through them. They hurt almost as much as the actual contractions.

“Do you have a name?” Mama C asks when my pain starts to subside.

My eyes fly open at her question.

Shaking my head, I look at Lucas. He stares back at me with wide eyes. Every scan until this point, as well as our own crazy belief, had led us to believe we were having a girl. The nursery is pink, most of the clothes we’ve purchased are as well. Even the outfit we chose to take our baby home in is pink. We have a girl’s name picked out, but nothing for a boy.

How silly are we?

If anything, you’d think we would have learnt by now that nothing ever goes to plan in our world.

Thinking quickly, only one name comes to mind. I think it fits, that it brings us full circle, but I don’t know if Lucas will agree.

“What about Kaden Quinn?” I keep my voice low when I suggest it. Mama C lets out a small cry, clasping her hands to her heart. I didn’t know if she would agree due to the significance it holds for her as well. Her delighted reaction tells me that she loves the idea.

“Fuck—” Lucas is speechless. Shock painted on his face—his knitted eyebrows, his mouth open and his eyes wide. I can see he’s struggling to cope. I smile at him, trying to gauge whether he’s reeling with happiness or because the reminder is too painful. His lips curl upward slightly in response, before he breaks my gaze and looks down at the baby in his arms.

Reaching out, I hold his hand as tears roll down his cheeks. He squeezes it tight as he speaks. “Welcome to the world, Kaden Quinn Blake.”

His proclamation fills me with joy. Hopefully now he can come to grips with his past and embrace it, instead of hiding from it. Mourn the child that he lost while celebrating the child we have.

***

A
timid knock on the door rouses me from my dozing.

“Come in,” I call out.

I’m alone in my room, having showered and cleaned up.

Lucas has headed down to the nursery with Kaden so he can be weighed and charted. Mama C has headed out to inform everyone. They’ve all been waiting patiently for the vital details since earlier tonight when they found out I was in labor.

“Hey. How are you feeling?” Maddi closes the door behind her. “Congratulations, he’s gorgeous. And a giant like his father. I
literally
clenched when Timber showed him to me.”

As we both laugh at her joke, she places a beautiful bunch of flowers in a crystal vase onto the bench. Dragging the visitor’s chair next to the bed, she gives me a hug before she sits down.

“Everyone wanted to come and see you, but the new dad scared them away. Said they can all come back in the morning.”

“Good. I’m so tired.” 

“I can imagine. I’m exhausted, and I was only out there pacing the corridor.” She laughs.

We discuss the less gruesome aspects of the birth, and she congratulates me again.

Standing, she gives me a kiss on the cheek. I grab her arm to stop her when she moves to leave.

“Are you okay?” I ask. “It’s a big day tomorrow.”

Letting out a sigh, she cocks her head to the side. “Do you really want to get into this now? You’ve just had a baby, JJ. Stop worrying about all of us for five minutes and concentrate on yourself, crazy woman!”

Maddi and I have become firm friends over the last five months.

She’s helped me through the crap with my parents, and I’ve helped her cope with the loneliness of Mad Dog being in jail the best I could. It’s been hard. The Club is in disarray as they try to fight a legal system that’s being used by a corrupt politician to further his personal vendetta. Mad Dog hasn’t even been able to apply for bail due to the charges against him, which has left them unfairly separated. The case is entirely circumstantial; the Shamrocks able to dispose of the body properly before it could be found. Yet he’s still being held in prison until the date of his trial, despite the best efforts of the Club’s lawyers.

Adding to the situation the Club’s been facing has been the absence of Beast. He’s walked away, completely abandoning his kids as his partial responsibility for Mad Dog’s arrest and the events that led up to it came to light. Maddi’s been raising her two teenage brothers as well as supporting Joel as he fights his way out of his depression and works out how to live a full life with his limitations.