UNDER REVISION - Road Rage, Dark Shadows MC (Book 1)

Epilogue

Silver

Three years later...

My stomach churns before I even open my eyes and I cover my mouth with my hand before I roll out of bed, making a mad dash for the ensuite. Just as I basically tackle the toilet, a raspy voice calls out, "Baby?"

I don't answer, too busy heaving into the toilet bowl, even though my stomach is practically empty. Heavy steps come into the bathroom before a hand scoops my hair back from my face and another smooths down my back. "Fuck, baby... you okay?"

His voice is husky with sleep but it rolls over me with familiarity and, even in the middle of my puke session, I want to smile, which is ridiculous. My eyes are wet, tears streaking down my face, joining the spit and god knows what else on my lips and chin. And I'm hugging a toilet.

But that's the effect my husband has on me, even after three years together.

I wonder briefly if that will ever fade away but I don't think it will. He always makes my heart skip a beat, even if he's just sending me that soft smile that he only ever gives me.

After several minutes, he asks, "You done?"

At my nod, Ash reaches over to flush the toilet before wetting a washcloth. I lean back against the wall, watching him, sighing softly. "I hate throwing up. It's the worst."

"I know," he murmurs, kneeling in front of me and catching my chin with his fingers. He carefully wipes my face clean, his brow furrowed with concern. "Do you think it's a stomach bug? Or maybe you ate something?" His eyes turn foggy as he tries to remember everything I could've eaten yesterday.

"Well..." I start but then cut myself off. This was not how I wanted to tell him but when he catches my gaze again, the worry in his makes my heart ache.

"Well, what?"

I swallow before pointing at the sink. "Can you grab my toothbrush? I can still taste it." I wrinkle my nose in disgust. He gives me a dark look, not liking the avoidance, but does as I ask. After my breath is minty fresh, he insists on taking me back to bed, carefully tucking me in like an invalid before pressing a cup of water to my lips.

"I'm not dying," I grumble.

"Well, I wouldn't know that, would I?" He grumbles right back, his tone accusing. "Because you're hiding something."

He puts the cup down and I sit up, grabbing hold of his face and bringing him towards me. He doesn't fight my hold, coming closer until his forehead presses against mine. "I'm okay, baby."

"Are you?"

Aw, so suspicious.

"I went to the doctors about a month ago," I tell him almost conversationally but he tenses underneath my hands. "It was time to get another birth control shot." He blinks, the apprehension fading under confusion, clearly not having expected that.

We found our perfect house about three months after The Sweet Tooth opened, with four bedrooms and a massive fenced backyard. We got married a year after we moved in–I'd made him wait so we could both be really, really sure that this was forever.

Cue him being a pissed off bear for an entire year but the ways he'd tried to convince me?

So worth it.

The minute his ring was on my finger, he'd told me that he was ready for a family when I was, which made sense considering he's eight years older than me. My priority back then had been the bakery though, knowing that I'd hate to split my attention between The Sweet Tooth and a baby. I wanted to wait until the bakery was profitable in a stable way, which he'd completely understood. These days, with Shae as my fabulous baker and manager, it was doing amazing and I was comfortable taking a step back.