Falling For The Biker: The Vice President's Girl Chapter 132

Wren

[One Month Later]

I skim the scar on my belly gently, thankful that it's healing.

Since everything happened, I've been staying at the clubhouse. Away from Raymond and his baby—I really just need some space from babies for a bit—and away from Ezra.

Though, the tension had dissipated between Ezra and I, I barely see him. He doesn't come to the clubhouse except to say 'hi' to me.

We haven't hugged, or kissed, but my feelings haven't changed. And neither has his because he still calls every night.

Tristan was rushed to the hospital after Ezra and Ray dealt with him, Clay was injured and was just recently discharged from the hospital, and Donovan...he disappeared that day.

No one knows where he went, and I hope he remains hiding.

There's a soft knock on my door, and I sigh, staring at the scar on my belly for a minute longer before dragging my shirt down over it.

I walk out of the bathroom and twist the knob. My eyes widen when I see Ezra.

We just stand there like deers caught in headlights, staring wide-eyed at each other before he finally speaks.

"Hey," he breathes, eyes softening as they trail down my body.

"I...I didn't know you were coming," I reply and open the door wider so he can come in.

"I didn't think I was coming too–" he steps in. "Ray called me over. But he's not here yet."

I frown. "Oh. What for?"

He shrugs.

"How're you?" He asks, reaching for me but his hand stops halfway, and falls to his side.

He's been doing that a lot, and I can only have myself to blame. The first time he tried touching me after the hospital, I flinched.

And then it kept happening. My body automatically resisted being touched by anyone. And I wish I could explain it, but I can't.

"I'm fine," I murmur. "You?"

"Honestly? I don't know," he replies.

I swallow. "W-what do you mean?"

"We lost our baby, Wren," he says. "But it feels like I lost you too. You say you love me, you say things haven't changed but...you're wrong, Birdie. Everything has changed."

A shaky breath leaves my lips and I sink to my bed, hands clasped together. "I do love you, though."

"I know that. God, I know that...but you're so far away, Wren. Physically, emotionally, mentally...I cannot reach you."

"I'm sorry?"

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "We're supposed to grief together, you know? We're supposed to go through this together, and I'm here trying...but it's almost like I'm the only one making an effort. Like I'm the only one fighting."

'That's not true' is what I want to say, but I bite down on my tongue and actually for the first time, think.

And he's right. He's been the one visiting, calling, texting...while I've been the one sulking, pushing everyone away while I lock myself in the room.

I can't use the excuse that I lost my baby, because it was his baby too.

My eyes lift to his, and I find the pain there, the longing. His lips are pulled down into a frown, eyes sunken in, nose and cheeks red.

I rise to my feet on shaky limbs and take a step forward. "You're right," I say. "I've not been the best partner."

"I know you're hurting, Wren. I am too, but we can do this together. You don't have to do anything alone, we're all here for you. I am here for you."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I've just been so...so weighed down by guilt–" Tears fill my eyes. "Like I could've done better, like—"

"Can I hold you?" He interrupts.

My body tenses, yet I force myself to relax. It's even more worrisome that he has to ask if he can touch me, but god, he's been so patient, so soft with me.

Slowly, I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.

He takes a single step closer until we're toe-to-toe, and then he reaches out.

My first instinct is to recoil, to bolt out of there but I stay put, squeezing my eyes shut instead.

And then his knuckles graze my cheek, and I shudder as warmth floods my whole body. Like somehow the coldness in me has been thawed out.

"I'm so sorry about it all, Wren. But we should forgive ourselves," he murmurs. "I'm not upset with you, never. It wasn't your fault, and it wasn't my fault. We couldn't have stopped it."

Those words...they do something to me. Every guard I had unconsciously built around my heart, falls away.

And just like that, the dam breaks, and I sob, falling into his arms.

"I've got you." He hugs me, arms wrapped tight around me. "I've got you, sweetheart."

"I'm so sorry," I choke out. "I didn't know what to do. It w-was like a part of me was gone with our baby. I know how excited you were, and I...I just felt like I took that away fr-from you...I c-couldn't look at you with the guilt that just kept eating at me."

His hands cup my cheeks. "Hey, hey, look at me."

I do.

I stare into his red-rimmed, watery eyes. I stare into those dark gray orbs I love so much.

"You didn't take our baby from me, you didn't take the excitement from me, do you understand?" He growls with a sniffle. "Yes, we...we lost our baby, but we're still here. We'll have more babies, and they'll know they have a big brother watching over them."

A watery smile grazes my lips. "Like their guardian angel?"

"Yes, darling. Like their guardian angel."

I throw my arms around him and this time, I hug him as tight as he hugs me. And my heart...it's so happy.

We'll have more babies. Besides, we also have Hannah. My sweet, sweet Hannah that has been calling through Beth's phone.

I've been unwilling to talk to her, or Quincy.

But now, I've drawn some strength from Ezra. I will call them.

It's been a long month of wallowing in my grief.

The thing about grief is that, it does get easier to carry. It may not be quick, but it will get better.

And the faster you let yourself be loved by those still alive, the easier the weight feels. That's how it feels as I hug Ezra, not ready to let go.

Finally, he pulls away and searches my eyes. "Come with me to England."

I stiffen. "W-what?"

"Let's start over somewhere else. Somewhere without the constant look over our shoulders, somewhere new, somewhere different," he says. "You, me, Hannah and my mom...maybe Beth, AJ and Noah too."

"Ezra..."

"Think about it," he cuts in. "You don't have to decide anything, yet."

I'm not opposed to starting over. Hell, I'm ready to leave this city, to leave the chaos. This past year has been from one trauma to the next.

A whirlwind of emotions for sure.

But England? That's miles and miles away from Ray, from Quincy and the baby. From Judi.

Can I really just up and leave?

"I'll...I'll think about it," I say. "Promise."

"Take your time, love."

He grins at me, and I return it.

"Thank you," I trace the curve of his brows. "For being patient, for not giving up on me...on us."

He presses his lips to my forehead. "I could never. What am I without you?"

"I love you." My eyes soften. "I love you so much, Ezra Jax."

"I love you always, my little bird."

With that he kisses me, and we both breathe into each other's mouths. It's been a while, and we've missed this...so, so much.

I rise on my tippy toes as the kiss deepens. Ezra squeezes my waist, and I shiver.

A low, throaty groan rumbles from his chest, and that right there sends a thrill down my spine into my stomach.

Goosebumps rise on my skin as his tongue pushes into my mouth. I sink my fingers into his hair, feeling him press up against my stomach.

His hands slip under my shirt and when he skims the scar on my stomach, I freeze, breaking the kiss.

"Ezra, I'm—"

"Can...can I see?" He asks softly.

Now, how can I say no to that when he's looking at me like I'm his world?

After a long internal debate, I manage a small nod.

Ezra sinks to his knees and lifts my shirt, eyes on mine, gauging my reaction, waiting for me to back out of this.

When my shirt is fully raised, with my whole belly exposed, he raises a brow, still seeking permission.

So, I nod again.

And his eyes dip down to the scar. A single horizontal line on my lower abdomen, and a smaller oval scar a little towards the left of it from the bullet.

He kisses each one, skinning them softly with thumb. "You're perfect," he rasps. "You're strong, you're a survivor and not a victim, you are beautiful."

As another tear rolls down my eyes, I wonder how many tears one has to shed before there'll be no more tears left to cry.

Before any of us speaks again, there's another knock on my door.

"EJ! Wren!" That sounds like Torch. "Ray is here."

We don't jerk apart like we'd normally do, and that is growth, acceptance.

Instead, Ezra stands and pulls my shirt down. Then he kisses my forehead and my lips, thumbing away my tears.

And with his hand firmly in mine, we walk out and down the stairs together.