The man’s smell fills the elevator. It’s a mix of sweat, testosterone and something minty. His red running shorts, tennis shoes and a white tank show off an impressive set of muscles throughout his body. His blonde hair is dripping wet with sweat and his breathing heavy. When his brown eyes land on mine, a small smile quirks the side of his mouth. My body is on instant alert and I put up my defensive walls inside.

“You need help with that?” His voice reverberates off the small enclosed area.

“No, thank you,” I say straightening my shoulders. One thing you learn being around a bunch of badass bikers is presence. The more confidence you have, the less likely you are to be messed with and with not knowing the guy, I will not give an inch.

“Here.” The box in my arms disappears and instantly my arms feel the relief. “I can just help ya to your apartment. I won’t even go in.” His full out smile is waiting for me and it’s so infectious I find myself doing the same.

“Thank you.” I look away to watch the numbers move from one to two.

“I’m Jace.” I feel his eyes staring at me burning a hole right through me, but I will not give this man an inch. No one is getting an in… again.

“Casey.” I continue to watch as the numbers move from two to three willing them to move faster.

“You need help with your other boxes?”

“I’ll get them, but thank you.” The elevator dings on three and it just occurred to me that Jace didn’t push a number. Exiting the elevator, I look for 303 finding it on the right hand side of the hallway. “I’m right here, you can set it down. Thank you.”

He makes no attempt to set the box down, but stands next to the door, his shoulder pressed up against the wall. Out of my peripheral vision, his muscular arms flex as he holds the box as if it weighs nothing at all. I swallow and quickly reach in my pocket for my keys trying not to fumble them.

Opening the door wide, I take in the room. Boxes line the room and walls, my furniture is piled in heaps, but the good part is I don’t see the bed so hopefully it’s been moved to the bedroom. I let out a deep sigh and walk into the apartment relishing in the mess that will take me days to organize.

I turn to the door. Jace is still standing with his shoulder propped against the door attempting to hold it up, but I don’t think it needs any help and nonchalance is not his strong suit. I walk quickly to him and hold out my hands for the box. He hands it to me hesitantly.

“Thank you.” I say pulling away from him and setting the box on top of the massive pile everywhere.

“Anytime. I’d really like to help you with the others that you have. My mom always taught me to help a lady. She’d smack my head if she found out I didn’t help you.” He smirks but covers it up with his hand.

“I only have two and a suitcase. I can handle it, but thank you.” I say ignoring the mom comment. I turn back around my eyes lock with his deep chocolate brown ones and instantly look to the floor, my confidence wanes a bit. His interest in me is clearly written on his face, but it will not happen and I do not want to give him any indication that it will.

“If you need anything, you let me know. I’m down in 306 across the hall.” He moves away from the door frame but does not step into my space. He’s kept his word about not coming into my apartment and I do appreciate his respect.

“Thanks, but I’ll be just fine. Going to unpack.” I grasp the door getting ready to shut it.

“Got it. It was nice to meet you Casey.” His lips form into a heartbreaking smile, one that would curl most women’s toes. If I were any other woman, in any other situation, I’d probably be putty in his hands. But I’m not.

“Same here.” I clutch the door a bit harder, Jace turns and walks down the hallway only a few steps to his door. Without looking, I quickly shut the door, lock it, and turn, allowing my back to sag on the door in relief. I made it. I got here. I can do this.

I hate unpacking. I’ve only had to do it twice, once when I moved in with Harlow and now this. It’s taken me most of the day, but I think I finally have everything where it needs to be, at least furniture and clothes-wise. The rest will wait for another day.

Plopping down on the couch, I lean my head back to rest it. My entire body aches from the top of my head down to the tips of my toes. My stomach growls reminding me I haven’t eaten. Since I haven’t gotten to the grocery store yet that means no food here either. I sigh to myself. I’ll need to remedy food before bed.

Both my hands instantly reach my stomach. I’m nowhere near showing yet, but I know the life inside me is growing. I did not plan on getting pregnant. When the doctor says that birth control is only 99% effective, believe him. I’m graced with the lucky one percent, but I can’t say that I’m disappointed. This pregnancy may not be what I have envisioned for myself, but I would not change it for the world.

G.T. and I didn’t use condoms. It was a huge fuckup on my part as I should have insisted we did. I knew him, I knew he’d never commit to one person, but did it anyway like some stupid love struck teenager, hoping I’d be the one he’d change for. Stupid. He did get tested for me though and got the all clear, but even that should not have had me tempting fate.

My relationship with G.T. has never been what one would call stable or healthy. As kids, he’s the little brother Harlow and I loved terrorizing and manipulating whenever we got a chance. We had him do some pretty disgusting stuff, like drink stale beer with cigarette butts and someone’s loogies in it. With only a couple year age difference, we spent a lot of time together, but mostly it was the eww-he’s-gross kinda time.

Part of me fell in love with Gage Thomas Gavelson when I was seven years old though, he threw mud in my face because I wouldn’t jump in it with him. That sealed the deal for me.

Shortly after he started hanging around the club, I noticed a cute little brother starting to turn into a man and I went from a sickening case of puppy love to a full-blown crush. But around thirteen, Pops, G.T.’s dad, started bringing him around the club more and more. I would see him from across the parking lot occasionally while Bam and I were working on cars, but it wasn’t the same. I missed him. Then, the women started coming around. Much older women. At first, I thought maybe they were just helping him with homework or working for Pops. How wrong I was. I quickly learned they were helping him, but definitely not with homework.

The intensity of my feelings for G.T. continued to grow, never lessening. If anything the longing became intensified to a degree it ached to even see him at all. He continually held a special place in my heart; one I kept locked up tight inside trying desperately to keep contained. But every smirk he’d give me or every bump on the shoulder would crack that container a bit more.

One fateful day, he actually saw me. Really saw me. The emotion in his eyes when they locked on mine lit my body on fire. That day was fast, fierce and beautiful. That day also started our short love affair.

I should have known better. All common sense left me when it came to that man. I saw the women in and out of his room at the club throughout the years, but stupid me, I thought I was different. I thought I meant something to him. But I didn’t. I was just one of many. There is no changing a man like G.T. As much as I want to be the special one he sees, I’m not and I have to live with it.

Our time together was a whirlwind and went by so quickly, but with such deep rooted feelings for G.T. I was sucked into everything that is him. But after only three weeks together he broke it off leaving me with a parting gift. As sick as it sounds, I’m happy to always have a part of him with me. And the even sicker part is I am my mother. I’m the club momma that got knocked up by a brother. I’ll be the one that everyone looks down on as the whore. But the major difference with me is I will not give up my baby or abandon it.