are coming fast as she begs, “Fuck me. I can’t wait another second for you to be inside me.”
Birdie needing me as much as I need her reaches deep in my gut. It makes me want to fuck her hard and fast. On her hands and knees. Slamming myself into her. Taking everything from her and giving everything to her I haven’t been able to in weeks. But what I really need right now, above any of that, is to reconnect us. I need my eyes on hers while I fuck her.
Taking her back down to the bed, I spread her legs and kiss her. “I love you,” I say as I thrust inside her.
Fuck. Me.
I pull out and slam inside again.
“Oh God,” Birdie cries out, her eyes closing.
I thrust again. “Open your eyes, baby.” When she doesn’t, I growl, “Birdie, your eyes.”
She does as I say, and I fuck her while our eyes remained locked together.
We come together, Birdie first, me following straight after.
Her fingers tangle in my hair when I drop my head to her shoulder and get my shit together. I don’t know what the fuck it is, but my mind is racing with a million thoughts and feelings. A foreign fucking experience to me after sex.
“I love you,” she says softly.
I lift my head and find her eyes again. We watch each other silently for a few moments before I roll onto my back.
She rolls to face me. “What are you thinking?”
I look at her. “That IVF is a dark fucking road to travel.”
Her hand slips into mine. “We made it, though.”
Yeah, we made it through the first cycle, but at what cost? And how many cycles can a relationship sustain before the cracks turn into gaping holes? Because I’m not blind here; I can see and feel the tiny cracks this first cycle inflicted on us. They scare the fuck out of me.
“Winter?” she says, moving into me. “Tell me.”
I put my arm around her to hold her close. “We made it, baby, and we’re gonna keep making it.”
She smiles up at me. “Yes, we are.”
Part II
Seven Years Later
19
Winter
* * *
I eye my wife as she makes her way around the club gathering, talking with everyone. Laughing and joking. Sparkly. Almost a 180 from how she was at home before the barbecue. Certainly not like how she was with me this morning.
I suck back some beer and wonder how long this good mood will last. Since we started our latest round of IVF nearly three months ago, she’s been up and down worse than usual during an IVF cycle. The fact she fell pregnant this time has contributed greatly to that because the two times she’s fallen pregnant didn’t end well. I know she’s co-existing with a great deal of fear, which isn’t helping the cause.
“Birdie looks happy,” Ransom says, joining me.
He doesn’t know she’s pregnant; no one does except her mother, Cleo, Lily, and Max. After being very open about the fact we were doing IVF in the beginning, we aren’t anymore. Not after the first time we miscarried and then had to tell everyone. These days we just go about it quietly, keeping the grief each time to ourselves. It’s easier for Birdie that way.
“Yeah,” I agree. He’s right; she’s glowing with happiness. She’s just hit the one-month mark of this pregnancy and each day she glows a little more.
Birdie catches my eye and waves me over. “Claudette needs help with something at her place, so I’m gonna go with her. Can you pick me up later when I call?”
Claudette is Buzz’s old lady, and this is another one of Birdie’s rescue missions. Over the last two years, she’s thrown herself into taking care of the old ladies. Not to mention, she does everything she can to take care of my guys, too. She keeps the clubhouse clean and the kitchen well stocked with food and drinks for everyone. She helps any of the families when they’re struggling for something, whether that’s food, cash, or other resources. I love her for all of this, but I’m concerned she needs to take shit easy now she’s pregnant.
I nod and pull her in for a kiss. “Don’t be all day, angel. I want you at home resting for some of it. You’ve been on your feet for hours.”
“Yes, boss,” she says with a smile.
“I’m deadly serious.”
“I know.” She kisses me again. “I love you.”
I watch her leave and then head into my office. I’ve got