Marrying an Asshole (Dirty Fuckers MC 3)

“

I know. I just wished she’d talk back. It probably sounds stupid, but it’s not the same without her.”

“We all get it,” Cora said.

They were all here. The diner had been closed, and Cora called in a sick day. Even Lucy and Ryan had turned up. Chloe had touched a lot of people, Pixie included. She’d been a club whore, but she’d been the kind you actually enjoy having around.

Suzy rubbed at her eyes. “The doctor said they were running tests. It could be anything. An infection, meningitis, the flu, bird flu. I don’t know.”

“What was she like on your vacation?” James asked, turning toward Richard.

“Everything was great. We talked. We spent a lot of time together. She was healthy.” Richard stared down at his hands. “I’m never going to get the image of her falling like that out of my head.”

“She just collapsed,” Drake said. “She stumbled over a chair, and it was like her body just gave way.”

Pixie gripped Suzy’s shoulder, needing comfort at hearing a friend was so ill. Damn, he liked Chloe.

She held onto his hand, locking their fingers together. The comfort of her touch was all he needed.

“How long do test results take?” Lucy asked.

Dane was in the hospital as well, and Pixie noticed he couldn’t take his eyes off Lucy.

Too bad, buddy.

Pixie had imagined what would happen when Dane turned up. He always pictured greeting him with open arms, congratulating him on getting his balls back, taking what he wanted.

How time had changed him.

When Pixie looked at Dane, he didn’t see a man. He saw a boy trapped in a man’s body. The Dirty Fuckers MC had grown up. They were no longer children. They were fully grown men.

Pixie squeezed Suzy’s hand.

The time for messing around, screwing everything in sight had long passed.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just, I need some air.”

“Let’s go get some,” Suzy said. “We’ll be outside. Will you come and get me for the results?”

“Sure,” James said.

They left the corridor, making their way out of the main hospital.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

The moment the cool air hit him, Pixie moved away and took several deep breaths. Pausing near a wall, he leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees, and closing his eyes.

“Pixie? Are you feeling ill, too?”

She pressed a hand to his forehead, but he shook his head. “No, I don’t feel ill.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything.”

Suzy didn’t fight with him, or force him to explain himself.