I turn back toward the mirror and find my green eyes again. I have dark circles, too, just like Aaron. Drawn, pale, tired. Determined. My eyes shine with conviction in a way they never have before, even if the rest of me looks like a corpse.

“You think what?” he asks carefully, voice low and neutral. Gentle but not patronizing. I’m just glad it’s him in here and not Victor. I cannot deal with Vic’s reaction to this right now. He’s going to fucking explode.

With shaking hands, I shove my pants to the floor and tear off my shirt, climbing into the shower and turning the water on cold. A gasp of surprise escapes my throat when the cool water cascades over my skin, sending crimson swirls down the drain. Fuck, shit, bitch. How am I supposed to bring this up today of all days?! And while Callum is still missing?

I’m not a religious woman, but if I were, I’d curse out whatever god or goddess is in charge of my existence. This is … well, it’s bullshit is what it is. I close my eyes and lean my head back against the wall. When did this happen? I wonder, because there’s no way I’m that far along. Likely, this is a chemical pregnancy—meaning it’s five weeks or less along. If that’s the case, then I don’t need medical treatment but … holy fuck.

I open my eyes again to find him watching me.

“Do you need a moment to yourself?” Aaron asks, raising a brow at me. He taps tattooed fingers against the door behind him and then comes to stand beside the tub, the medical boot making his walk just a bit lopsided. “I’m inclined to say fuck that and stay here anyway, but if you really want me to go …” He trails off and then tucks his hands into the pockets of the borrowed sweats he’s wearing. Second time getting arrested during senior year. Good for him. A Prescott boy through and through.

“Would you?” I ask, leaning my naked body against the wall of the shower. Aaron tries to be a gentleman, but his eyes make a sweep of my body just once before landing on my face again. “I mean, if I told you to go, would you really?”

He pauses for a long moment and then smiles tightly at me. A single dimple appears on his face, despite the gravity of the moment. Cal missing, the GMP on our asses, the feds with our phones. That’s how you really know you’re in love, when you’d rather face a crisis with your partner than an eternity of bliss alone.

“I …” I start, feeling the words get stuck in my throat. They’re suddenly sticky and strange, almost sharp as they scrape through to my lips. I may very well start bleeding from the mouth next. “The hospital …” Reaching up a hand, I press it against the side of my head and close my eyes again. As Shakespeare once said, Uneasy is the head that wears a crown. Nobody ever said this was going to be easy. My eyes open and I meet Aaron’s green-gold gaze. “I’m pregnant.”

There’s a moment there where he doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink. He looks down at the water which, at least for now, has started to run clear. Then back up at me again. His face betrays nothing, a façade of calm meant to help me keep my own feelings in check. When I look too deeply into his eyes, however, I can see every emotion he’s trying so hard to contain.

“Bernie,” Aaron begins, blinking at me as he takes my face between his hands. My stomach muscles seize, and I grimace against the pain. “Is that what the hospital called about?”

I just stare back at him and then reach my hands up to lay them over his. Our fingers intertwine, pretty HAVOC tatted knuckles on either side. His left, my left. He leans in and kisses my lips, a soft, easy kiss with no demands for more. Just a promise to listen.

“Was,” I correct, frowning hard. “Was pregnant. I’m pretty sure this is a chemical pregnancy—”

He cuts me off with another kiss, one that lingers just a tad longer. He only pulls back enough to talk, our mouths brushing together with each word.

“You don’t have to analyze every little thing. You don’t have to be Vic to be queen. Are you okay?”

“I …” I start, but I’m not sure what to say. How do I feel? I don’t know. I didn’t want to be pregnant, so I feel relieved. Also, a little bit sad. And maybe I want to kill every motherfucker in the GMP to make up for that beating I got on the lawn. “It’s not really that big of a deal, but it’s … weird.”

Aaron smiles at me and then reaches up to push wet hair back from my forehead. Me and him, we’re parents already. We have Heather and Ashley and Kara locked away in an ivy-covered tower known as Oak River Elementary. The last thing either of us needs or wants is a baby, but it still isn’t fair that I had to find out about this the same day I started bleeding and cramping.

“I’ll be okay,” I promise, sliding my palms along his arms until I get to his taut shoulders. “Just … bring me one of the reusable cups from the duffel I have in your room, make up a hot water bottle, and grab some ibuprofen?”

Aaron nods, but he doesn’t let go of me, pressing a kiss to either of my cheeks and one to my forehead. His breath feathers against me and I shiver, the water steaming around us as it finally reaches its maximum temperature, scalding me the way I want it to. I stare at the Bernadette tattoo on his right arm.

First chance I get, I’m tattooing all of their names on my skin. I don’t care where. I just want them somewhere. That, and I want my name on all of them. Does that make me a crazy person?

I lick some of the warm water from my lips and look back at Aaron’s face. As soon as he gets out of here, he’s going to punch something. I can tell by the way he skims my bruises, taking in all the damage I received at the hands of a rival gang. Can’t say I blame him. If they’d done this to my girl—whether she wanted a baby or not—I’d be furious.

Inconsolable.

Murderous.

“Don’t tell anyone else yet,” I say, touching my hand to his arm. His skin is hot enough to burn; it draws me to him like a moth to the flame. That’s probably how they think of themselves, Havoc. Like the flame that burned away my wings and kept me trapped here in Prescott.

Well, I know for a fact that Aaron feels that way. Oscar. Maybe Hael. Cal, I don’t know. Vic is the one who would gladly flick the wheel on a lighter and offer it up.

Toxic. Irresponsible. Broken.

That’s me and those boys and this pregnancy-that-isn’t.

I exhale.

“I won’t,” Aaron promises, his voice a fierce slash, some of that anger managing to creep out even though he tries so hard to hide it. “I promise I won’t.” He lets go of my face finally and steps back. “Take your time. When you get out, we can start looking for Cal again. Then you can tell them all together.”

He turns to leave, pauses, and then whirls around so quickly that a small sound of surprise escapes me. Aaron slams his palms against the shower wall on either side of me and takes my mouth like he honestly believes all problems in this world can be solved with the right kind of kiss.

As my fingers come up to brush against his muscular chest, and his tongue takes over my mouth, I think that there’s at least a small chance that he’s right.

“Keep ahold of my leash, your majesty. Because the next time I see somebody with that hideous fucking clown tattoo, I’m going to go daddy Aaron on their asses.” He grabs the side of my neck, kisses me hard enough to bruise, and then lets go, staring down at me with steam and dew collecting on his wavy hair. “Fuck, you’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met,” he breathes, finally turning and leaving the bathroom in such a whirlwind that the steam swirls around like clouds in a summer breeze.