The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky as Brooke and I made our way back to the clubhouse, the warm breeze brushing against our skin. The walk had been a much-needed escape, giving me time to clear my head and enjoy a moment of normalcy.

"I don't know, Avery," Brooke sighed, her voice filled with frustration as she kicked a small rock along the gravel path. "Austin's just been so distant lately. One minute, he's all over me, and the next, it's like I don't even exist."

I glanced over at her, taking in the concern etched across her face. "Have you talked to him about it?" I asked softly, though I already knew the answer.

"Yeah," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "But he just brushes it off. Says he's tired or stressed, but I can feel it. Something's... off." She paused for a second, then sighed again. "Maybe I'm overthinking it."

"You're not," I reassured her. "If something feels wrong, it usually is. But maybe he just needs space to work through whatever's on his mind."

Brooke gave me a small, appreciative smile, but I could tell her thoughts were still racing. "I just hate feeling like I'm walking on eggshells," she murmured. "I don't want to lose him."

"You won't," I promised, even though I wasn't sure I believed it myself. "Just give it time."

As we approached the clubhouse, the familiar rumble of voices and music echoed from inside. The scent of grilled food lingered in the air, mixing with the faint smell of whiskey and cigarettes. Brooke nudged me playfully.

"Come on," she said with a forced smile. "Let's get inside before I start overanalyzing this even more."

I gave her a small laugh and followed her through the side entrance, avoiding the crowded bar area. The noise and chaos faded as we walked down the hallway toward the rooms. I was grateful for the quiet after such an emotionally draining conversation.

"See you in a bit?" Brooke asked as she stopped outside her door.

"Yeah," I nodded. "Try to relax, okay?"

"I'll try," she murmured, flashing me a tired smile before disappearing into her room.

I pushed open the door to our bedroom, ready to collapse onto the bed and let the exhaustion of the past couple of days take over. But the moment I stepped inside, I froze.

Everest was sitting on the edge of the bed, his broad shoulders tense, his jaw clenched. And in his hands—

My heart stopped.

It was the sonogram.

My purse was dumped out on the floor beside him, the crumpled paper sitting in his hands as his eyes stayed glued to it.

"Everest..." I whispered, my voice barely above a breath.

His head lifted slowly, those deep eyes locking onto mine—filled with a mixture of confusion, hurt, and something I couldn't quite place.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" His voice was low, steady—but I could hear the storm raging just beneath the surface.

My stomach dropped, and suddenly, the weight of everything I'd been hiding came crashing down on me.

This was it. There was no turning back now.

"Everest..." I took a hesitant step forward, my throat dry. "I was going to tell you. I just—"

"When?" His voice cut through the air like a knife, his eyes narrowing as he finally looked up at me. "When were you going to tell me, Avery? After the baby was born? Or maybe never?"

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering in my ears. "It's not like that," I whispered, but I knew the words weren't enough.

"Then what the fuck is it like?" He stood up, his movements sharp and unsteady. That's when I noticed it.

The smell.

Whiskey.

It hit me all at once—his breath reeked of alcohol, and his eyes were slightly glazed over. He was drunk.

"Everest..." I breathed out, my stomach twisting.

"What, Avery? What the hell were you thinking, huh?" Everest's voice was sharp, laced with disbelief as he threw his hands up. "We're already dealing with enough shit, and now you want to bring a kid into this?" He let out a dry, humorless laugh, shaking his head like he couldn't believe what was happening.

My blood boiled instantly. "Oh, really?" I stepped closer, my finger jabbing into his chest, my voice dripping with anger. "From what I remember, Everest—" I spat his name, "you're the one who's been finishing inside me every single time you fuck me!"

"Thought you'd be takin' care of that," he muttered flatly, his tone indifferent as he grabbed the beer from the nightstand and took a swig.

My jaw clenched as I watched him, his nonchalant attitude making me see red. "So what?" I hissed, my voice rising. "Do you just come in every girl you fuck, or am I just the lucky one?"

Everest paused mid-step, his head tilting slightly as he glanced at me over his shoulder. "Don't have any kids that I know of," he shrugged, his tone as casual as if we were discussing the weather.

I scoffed, my chest tightening with rage. "Maybe Bree was right," I snapped, my voice dripping with venom. "Maybe you two do share something special."

That caught his attention. His entire demeanor shifted as he froze, turning slowly to face me. "When did she say that?" His tone was different now—less cocky, more concerned. There was something behind his eyes that I didn't like, something that made my stomach drop.

"The other day," I said, crossing my arms as I stared him down. "She followed me outside, running her mouth about how much you two share together." I let out a bitter laugh, rubbing my face in frustration as I tried to rein in the anger bubbling beneath the surface.

Everest's jaw tightened, his grip on the beer bottle so firm I thought it might shatter. "Avery..." he started, but I wasn't ready to hear whatever bullshit was about to come out of his mouth.

"Save it," I muttered, my voice tired and defeated. But then his expression shifted again, and before I could prepare myself, his next words hit me like a punch to the gut.

"Whose is it, huh?" he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Mason's? Or..." He leaned back, the smirk growing, and I caught the faint scent of whiskey on his breath. "Maybe one of those husbands you used to play nurse for?"

My stomach dropped.

"Everest." My voice was firm now, but the disbelief was still there. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Just asking a question, baby." He shrugged, but his eyes told a different story. "I mean... you've been sneaking around. Taking trips without telling me. Running off with Ghost." He tilted his head, the grin still plastered on his face. "Seems like a fair question."

"Are you serious right now?" I stared at him, my jaw tightening. "You're joking about this?"

"Relax." He waved the sonogram like it was nothing, but I could see the way his grip tightened on it. "Just trying to lighten the mood."

"By implying that I'm carrying someone else's baby?" My voice was sharper now, my patience wearing thin.

"It's a valid question," he muttered, his smirk faltering for a split second.

"Is it?" I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest, my heart pounding in my ears. "You're being an asshole, Everest." I didn't hesitate another second before grabbing my purse, shoving everything inside—including the crumpled sonogram—without caring how messy it was.

The weight of everything was suffocating, and I needed to get out before I completely broke down.

I stormed into the closet, yanking my bag off the shelf, shoving clothes inside without even looking at what I was grabbing. My hands were shaking, my mind racing. I just needed to leave—I couldn't stay here. Not after this.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Everest's voice was sharp behind me, but I refused to turn around. I felt him looming over me, his presence suffocating as I zipped the bag shut.

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

I slung the bag over my shoulder and tried to brush past him, but he grabbed the strap, holding me back. His grip was firm but not harsh—like he was silently begging me not to leave.

"Let. Go," I ground out through clenched teeth, my jaw tight as I stared at the floor. I couldn't look at him. I couldn't bear to see whatever was in his eyes right now—whether it was anger, regret, or worse... indifference.

For a moment, he didn't move. I felt the tension in the air thickening, pressing down on me. But then, just like that, he let go.

And I didn't hesitate. I pushed past him, storming out of the room, out of the clubhouse, and away from the chaos that had become my life.

By the time I pulled into my driveway, my eyes were already burning with unshed tears. The moment I stepped inside, the dam broke.

I barely made it to my bedroom before the sobs tore through me. My bag slipped from my shoulder, landing with a heavy thud on the floor as I collapsed onto the bed, curling into myself.

My body shook as I cried, my face buried in the pillow to muffle the sounds. I felt so damn empty—like a piece of me had been ripped away. And as much as I tried to push it down, the pain kept clawing its way to the surface.

I rolled onto my side, my eyes falling to the sonogram now crumpled and partially ripped, lying on the nightstand where I had thrown it. My fingers traced the edges of the fragile paper as fresh tears blurred my vision.

"Why does life keep testing me?" I whispered into the silence, my voice barely above a breath. It felt like every time I got my head above water, something dragged me back down. And now... now I was drowning all over again.

I stared at the tiny image, my heart aching. I wanted this baby. I wanted this to work. But with Everest acting the way he was... could I really do this alone?

I closed my eyes, trying to block out the pain, but the sound of the front door opening jolted me upright.

Footsteps echoed through the quiet house, slow and deliberate, getting closer to my room.

"Leave me alone, Everest," I murmured, my voice hoarse from crying. I didn't have the energy for another fight. Not tonight.

But the voice that answered wasn't Everest's.

"I knew the biker was too good to be true," a familiar voice said, sending a chill down my spine.

My head snapped up, and I felt my breath catch in my throat.

Logan.

He stood in the doorway, his eyes locked on me with an expression I couldn't quite place.

My heart pounded as I sat up, shock and confusion swirling inside me.

"Logan..." I whispered, barely able to believe what I was seeing.

And just like that, everything shifted.