Split - Coffin Nails MC (Contemporary New Adult Erotic Dark Romance) (Sex & Mayhem Book 7) (16 page)

Asty nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,
but I don’t want him in trouble. If Dad knew he might be the father, he’d kill
him.”

Lucky rubbed his forehead. “Shit. But he
will find out if Hunter proposed to you.”

Asty cringed. “I said no.”

Lucky cringed. “Ouch. What did he say?
Because he just came down, thanked me for the party, said goodbye to everyone,
and left.”

Asty wanted to answer, but a sob rose in
her throat, and she exploded with tears. “He really likes me, but I can’t put
him in that position. What if the baby is the other guy’s?”

“He clearly doesn’t care,” Lucky mumbled.
“Maybe you could just see how it goes? Then tell Dad you two only got together
when you were already pregnant. I guess it is a bit too soon to accept a
proposal. Then again, you could always accept it with the condition of a long
engagement period. If that’s what you want, of course. Do you even like him
that much or is he just a really good fuck?” Lucky’s lips twitched with a tiny
smile. “I bet he’s a good fuck.”

Even through the tears, Asty couldn’t keep
from smiling. “He is. He is so sweet. Every day I wait until I can see him again,”
she whispered, glancing at Lucky. “Why do I keep blundering?”

“Everyone makes mistakes. The question is,
where do you go from here?”

Asty took a shuddery breath. “I guess that
depends on him. No one likes to be rejected. And I like him. I don’t want to
just use him. I can’t make Dad hate him.”

Lucky leaned closer, and the cold car with
their breaths steaming up the windows made the space seem even more intimate.
“Oh. Did you two break up?”

Asty hugged him, savoring the warmth of his
arms. “I don’t know ... he said he needs to think.” She knew she had no right
to be upset, but she still was. She could be saying whatever she wanted, but if
Hunter didn’t want to see her anymore, she’d be devastated.

“Let’s just see how it unfolds, okay?”
Lucky hugged her back. “I’m always here for you. I love having a sister.”

Asty nodded, wishing the arms around her
were broader and smelled different. She loved her brother, but she wanted
Hunter back with her. And yet, every time Lucky mentioned their family in one
way or another, he was tugging on threads she thought she had secured. Would he
hate her for the choices she was to make in the future? And as she listened to
their combined breaths, she still couldn’t come up with an answer.

Asty

Asty cuddled up into her armchair, turning
pages of a family album. Last night hadn’t been pleasant, but Dad took it
better than she thought. He was a bit awkward about it, but he promised to help
her out, and she imagined talking it through with his friends helped him cope.

In the old pictures, Bell and Asty were
dressed in new pajamas as they unpacked their gifts in front of the tree. Mom
still wore that silly hairdo she had in the early 2000s, and Dad didn’t yet
have a single grey hair. After the pictures had been taken, the four of them
spent the day stuffing themselves full in the company of their friends. The
biker brothers had many children at the time, all a similar age, which resulted
in an epic snow battle outside. In the mornings, Asty would frequently climb
into her parents’ bed and wake them up. In the evenings, Mom would read to her
until Asty was in her teens and started finding it embarrassing. Then, at
thirteen, Bell started spending more time at the garage and for some time
didn’t have much patience for his baby sister.

Asty looked at the photographs of a young
Beelzebub repairing a car under the supervision of good old Don. If she didn’t
know the truth, she’d assume it was a joke picture, but her brother’s interest
in bikes and cars really ran that deep at an early age.

As Asty browsed the album further, all the
memories of her family—both good and bad—were somehow recorded on its pages.
There was that year when Dad wasn’t allowed home on Thanksgiving. It was the
year when Mom found out Dad was still seeing Lucky, whom he had with another
woman. Thankfully, the two of them worked it all out later.

In the more recent photos, Dad sat on the
sofa with Bell, Lucky, and her, but Mom wasn’t in the picture this time. Come
to think of it, not a single photo ever caught all of Asty’s family. A conflict
always prevented them from doing so, and now that Mom and Bell were dead, there
was no way to amend that. She blinked, fighting her tears when she opened the
album on an empty page and slid two new pictures in. Both were of Mom in the
hospital. Thin, ghastly pale, and with short hair that was barely growing back
after the chemo. She had her journals on the bedside table. They were all she
could think of in the last days of her life. A legacy she wanted to leave for
Asty. Last instructions that needed to be followed.

Asty closed the album and cradled it
against her chest. She hated that her mom’s wishes once again were in conflict
with Lucky’s. He deserved to have a sister, just like Bell deserved to come
back, but Lucky at least had Tooth, and Dad needed to be reunited with his
beloved son. Asty knew he loved her too, but their relationship was somewhat
awkward, nothing like the closeness Dad had shared with Bell.

The sounds of a violin streamed against her
ear, and for a moment, she thought it was just in her head, an instrumental
version of her sadness, echoing especially loudly in the empty house when Dad
was away for the night with his friends. But as the music didn’t stop, she
realized it was coming from outside.

She put the album on the table, pulled the
T-shirt lower to cover her butt, and walked up to the window, opening it to
hear the tune better. Freezing air hit her skin as she leaned outside, looking
out into the dark garden. She knew the melody. It was Metallica’s
Nothing Else
Matters
, but the clean sound of the instrument somehow made it sound
deeper, more regretful. As the tension in the music rose, Asty finally looked
down at the snow-covered lawn at the back of her house, and she had to pinch
herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

Hunter sat in a chair, with snow falling
all around, and he was playing not a violin, but a cello. The sound was pure in
the night, and every time he moved the bow, he pulled on her heartstrings as
she whispered the lyrics of the song to herself. For a moment, she thought
maybe it was someone else after all, but even wearing a scarf and a black
hoodie under his leather jacket, the long dark hair made Hunter unmistakable
for anyone else.

Asty took a shuddery breath and stepped
back from the window with heat spreading inside her chest. If felt like a dream
to see Hunter again and to have him serenading her under her window. She’d
never imagined he could play an instrument like that. Not thinking much, she
rushed past Behemoth and out of the room, running for the door. In just a pair
of fluffy shoes and a coat that showed her bare legs, she walked outside and
followed the sound that was calling to her. The snow danced around the
streetlights and brushed against Asty’s bare skin, but she wasn’t cold. The
garden turned into a dreamland of pristine white branches and music she
couldn’t resist.

When Hunter finally emerged from behind the
house as Asty approached, she slowed down, not wanting to disturb the
perfection of the crying melody that enveloped her heart in its grasp, just
like Hunter himself did. The fingerless gloves he was wearing left his fingers
to the freezing cold, yet he moved the bow with such precision she couldn’t
wrap her head around it. He was curled around the cello as if he held a lover,
and despite being mesmerized by the music, Asty couldn’t wait to be the one in
his arms instead of the instrument, no matter how cold Hunter’s fingers would
be.

Each careful step through the snow brought
her closer to him, and finally, when she was at arm’s reach, she placed her
hands on his shoulders, exhaling when she felt the muscles move. He took a deep
breath, and the music stopped when he turned his head to look up at her and
then kissed her fingers.

Asty slid her hands down to his chest, leaning
forward until she could brush her lips against his mouth, which exploded with
warmth as soon as it opened. Her fingers clawed at the front of his jacket. Her
heart thudded, and so did his. She could feel it even through the leather.

He was the first to speak. “Yesterday … You
said you don’t even know me all that well. I want to show you more of who I
truly am.”

Asty pressed her cheek against Hunter’s and
brought her hands higher to hug him around the neck. “That was so beautiful. I
never knew you played.”

“It’s not exactly your typical biker
pastime, so I keep it to myself.” He stood up and carefully put the cello on
the chair before wrapping his arms around Asty. “But I can share it with you.”

Asty nodded and put her head on his chest,
only now succumbing to the cold biting her bare legs. A shiver ran through her
body, but she refused to let go of Hunter and only hugged him tighter. “Only if
you play for me again.”

“Only if you let me in,” he whispered
against her hair.

Asty nodded. “Yes. Come in.” But when she
pulled on his hand, he wouldn’t budge.

“You need to let me in here.” Hunter put
his hand on her chest above her breasts.

Asty gasped, looking up at him, completely
mesmerized. He was serious. He knew all the things she did, he knew she was pregnant,
and yet he was still chasing her.

She put her hand on his and squeezed it
gently. “I want to.”

Hunter nodded and gave her a kiss. “Now, I
finally feel invited.” He grabbed the cello, and she led him inside with her
heart drumming like mad.

The house was so hot in contrast to the
freezing weather outside that it was a relief to take off the coat and thick
shoes, even if the change in temperature made her legs feel numb. She couldn’t
believe Hunter was standing at the stairs in her house. Not a ghost. It was
really him, and for once, she wouldn’t be talking to him in public or in some
random places. Having him in her private space felt different and so much more
intimate compared to the other places.

They walked into her room holding hands,
and he brushed his fingers through her hair. Hunter put the cello on her desk
and dropped a duffel bag next to the bed. “You’re wearing the earrings.”

Asty stilled and squeezed his hand. Of
course, she wore them. She wanted to feel closer to him. “They’re pretty.”

Hunter sat down on her bed and pulled her
into his lap. “What do you want to know about me? What do you feel is missing?”

Asty chewed on her lip and pushed back the
black web-like fabric hanging around her bed. It was such a hard question if
there were no leads in the first place. “How did you learn to play the cello?”

“When I was younger, I used to go to music
school. A Catholic one as well. I learned to play, because I was told to, but
then I was looking for inspiration when we got an assignment to play a piece of
our choice, and I found Apocalyptica.” Hunter smiled and kissed her. “It blew
me away, and I found a completely new passion for the instrument. From there, I
got into all sorts of metal music. My parents told me it was ‘devil’s music,’
so I loved it even more. You see, even when I was younger, I wasn’t into the
clean-cut girls, I wanted a girl who wasn’t afraid to ask questions, explore,
and I won’t lie, piercings turn me on.”

“So ... you continued learning the cello to
pick up goth chicks?” Asty snorted and combed his hair behind his ear, enjoying
how smooth it was.

Hunter laughed. “I suppose. But I love it
too. I grew my hair long, I already told you how I started questioning
religion, and I just didn’t feel I fit in with my family. But after a big fight
with my parents, I had to leave home. I could only think of one relative who
would take me: my uncle, Ray’s father. But with him, everything was ass
backwards, and it wasn’t easy to adjust, no matter how much I liked biker
parties, pussy, and booze.” He took a deep breath and started playing with her
fingers. “He kept pulling me out of school until it didn’t make sense to go
back anymore. He’d hit me whenever I’d compare the new life to my old family.
He’d pit Ray against me when we were young, so I had to learn to fight fast.
When he found out I still played the cello, he smashed it to pieces.” Hunter
took another deep breath. “On me.”

Asty cradled his face in her hands and
glanced into his eyes as her heart broke for him. This was nothing like her
mostly worriless childhood. If she experienced violence, it was never at the
hands of those she trusted, never from family. “That’s so horrible. Why would
they do that?”

Hunter stroked her back. “I think he was
afraid of people who are different, which was ironically just like the other
side of my family. He’d say playing the cello was ‘faggy,’ and that was that.
So I hid away that part of me. Learned to play by his rules. He never let me
finish high school, I was swept into the club very early, and that became my
life. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not sulking. I don’t wish for another life
now. Being with the Hogs gave me an outlet, a community other than my uncle and
Ray.”

Asty hugged him and slowly entwined their
fingers. Hunter’s fingers were so thick and hot in comparison to hers. “I also
wanted to finish school, but I couldn’t stay there anymore, so I told everyone
that I just want to focus on my business early on. You met Lilly. She was a
bitch, but not nearly the biggest problem I had there. I kept being
dress-coded, so I eventually tried to change something. You know, cover up
more, but when the teachers stopped bugging me, the other students actually got
worse.” She chewed on her lips, remembering all the situations where she was
alone against a group of people and felt threatened by them. “It’s strange.
When I looked more outrageous, some people simply didn’t approach me, or made
stupid comments from afar. I could deal with that. But when I toned down, they
started being really mean. I’d find bugs in my locker, then a few girls took my
winter clothes, and I had to go back home in my gym outfit. Another time, some
guys stopped me behind the school and tried to undress me to see if I had more
piercings somewhere underneath.” Asty scowled just thinking about it. “I didn’t
want to tell Dad what was happening. He’d threaten them and only get himself in
trouble.”

Hunter hugged her close. “I’m so sorry. How
about, we see how things go, and we could take evening classes together next
year? After, you know, the baby.”

Asty swallowed her guilt. “I’m sorry I got
you into this.”

“No, I won’t say ‘it’s fine.’ I’d rather
have a choice, but maybe some things are meant to be.” Hunter nuzzled her jaw.
“I wanted children in the future anyway.”

Asty kissed his forehead and slid her arms
around his neck, cuddling up to his warm body. Maybe he’d really be a good
father to Bell once she was gone? Maybe it was fate that he wanted to stay
around. “I didn’t think you’d want to be with me once you found out.”

“I’ve never met a girl like you. And sure,
you’re a bit fucked up”—he pinched her ass—“but I’m no saint either. I want to
give this a shot.”

Asty smiled at him and put his hand under
her T-shirt. “Maybe you could finally stay the night now that that’s settled.”

“You really are clairvoyant.” Hunter
grinned and slid his hand up her back. “Priest’s not back ‘til tomorrow
afternoon, right?”

Asty nodded and stretched under his touch,
relaxing now that he was back with her. “He won’t know unless you stopped your
ride in front of the house.”

Hunter snorted. “No way. I’ve got this
place I use for parking down the street. My bike’s not exactly anonymous.”