Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC #2)(50)

I had attempted to seek him out at the clubhouse days ago, but when I had got there I had seen him with a blonde. Needless to say I had blanched when our eyes met, happy that I had the pretense of picking up Rosie. I was pissed at the fact he was pawing some other woman, but I couldn’t really be since I had slept with Ian. We weren’t together. I had made that abundantly clear. He was free to do as he wished. I had wished he’d be like one of those men in romance novels who waited patiently and chastely for the heroine to get over her shit. But this was real life. He was a biker. It was a miracle he had even wanted to commit. So I couldn’t bring myself to blame him, no matter how much I wanted to scratch the blonde’s eyes out.

Luckily I got the distraction of finding out Gwen was knocked up. I was seriously ecstatic at the prospect of a little kid to spoil and dress up. I was less than ecstatic that I couldn’t enjoy cocktails with my best friend for nine months, but I would manage.

The day after the announcement of Gwen’s little bundle of joy I decided to take a drive to LA to get a jump on baby shopping. I hated that I had to do gender neutral, and on the drive I had decided to buy an equal amount of boys’ and girls’ shit. I’d donate the loser gender to charity once they found out. Plus, shopping was a welcome distraction to what I was planning to do that night. Confront Brock. The prospect of it vaguely brought me out in hives but I had to do it.

What I had to do first was call Ian and tell him he wasn’t coming home to me. That was something else that curdled my meager breakfast. I cared about him. Loved him. The idea of hurting him sucked. The fact that I was telling him this shit over the phone had me wanting to punch myself in the face just a little. It was a seriously crappy thing to do. But stringing him along was worse. I was in the process of finding a way to get in touch with him and was waiting on my info.

I was about halfway to LA when my phone buzzed. I thought it would be my Uncle Garrett with the deets but instead it was Gwen’s mother.

“Hey Lacey, I’m currently on my way to LA to start the shopping,” I greeted, assuming she was calling after hearing Gwen’s news. I knew she’d want to coordinate and was excited to talk to her about it. I thought of her as my mother too, and loved the woman with all my heart.

“Amy, it’s Dave here.” Gwen’s father interrupted me, his voice sounding funny.

“Oh hey, what’s up, Mr. A?” I greeted him fondly. Although he was a man of few words, he was the father I wish I had, instead of the cold and absent one nature had lumped me with.

There was a pause and something about it made my stomach drop. “Sweetheart, I’m assuming you’re not with Gwen so you don’t know,” he said softly, his usually gruff voice sounding wrong somehow, broken.

“Don’t know what?” I asked, dread building in the pit of my stomach.

“We just got news...Ian was killed last night...a roadside bomb,” he told me, his voice breaking. The weight of the anguish and pain in his voice was hard to listen to.

I didn’t hear anything else thanks to a dull roar in my ears. I might have said something else to Dave, I don’t know. Everything was a blur. I must have said my goodbyes because my phone wasn’t in my hand anymore. My hands started shaking on the wheel and my vision got blurry. I pulled over, on autopilot, then stumbled out of the car to be sick on the side of the road.

I didn’t know what to do. I stayed on my knees for a second, not caring about the rough stones that were cutting my knees, not feeling anything but the heavy weight on my chest. The weight that threatened to suffocate me. I tried not to hyperventilate. If I continued sucking in air at the rate I was I would pass out.

“Get it together, Amy,” I muttered to myself.

Slowly I managed to get to my feet. I stumbled back into my car and my blood ran cold. Gwen. Shit. She would be a mess. The baby. Fuck.

I broke every traffic law in the book speeding back to Amber, frantically dialing Gwen’s number as I wove through traffic. On getting her voicemail for the fourth time I was about to call Cade when Rosie rang me.

“Rosie, are you with Gwen?” I asked her as soon as I picked up.

“I take it you know,” she paused.

“What?” I snapped, my stomach threatening to roll again at her tone.

“Gwen’s in the hospital, Amy,” she whispered. “She didn’t take the news real well—we don’t know anything just yet,” she explained but I cut her off.

“I’ll be there in ten,” I declared, putting my foot on the gas.

Five minutes later after parking half on the curb of the hospital I burst through the doors. I had broken down for about a minute on the drive, letting the tears fall while I sped through the streets. I had made myself stop once I realized I would have to be strong for my best friend. For her kid. I stormed through the waiting room to be greeted by half of the club. My eyes rested on Brock, who stood upon seeing me but Rosie got to me first, throwing her arms around me.

“I’m so sorry, Ames,” she whispered into my hair. I stood in her arms stiffly and waited until she let me go.

“Where is she?” I demanded.

Tears welled up in Rosie’s eyes. “They weren’t letting anyone see her but Cade just went through those doors.” She pointed to where two pissed off looked orderlies had emerged.

“Right,” I said, pointing my heels in that direction. I ignored everyone around me until Brock stepped in my path.