Claimed by the Biker Giant (Maxine and Tank) novel Chapter 88

Max POV

It was a relief to air my suspicions to Tank about Cricket, and he took the thoughts in without making me feel like a fool for thinking them. If she had lost the baby, she would have been in pain and not thinking clearly.

“Tank, do you think we need to get Cricket to see the Doc? She might need help?” I asked, as we headed inside. I was no longer in the mood to start painting or any artistic work.

“Come with me, let’s find Bruiser and talk, he might agree to have Cricket see the Doc, if not lose the baby, she had something going on, that could be health-related,” Tank said, and I couldn’t agree more, something was amiss, going on what I had seen before the camp, and what I had heard, from the others whispers.

We found Bruiser, out the back, working on the wood pile for the bonfire, the body was already in the middle, completely wrapped up, and he was placing wood, broken boards, and charred timber from the building. He looked like he was working off some agro.

“Bruiser, you got a minute?” Tank called out when Bruiser finished throwing a large log on the woodpile.

“Sure.” He wiped the sweat from his brow and followed us into my workshop office. Tank closed the door, and Bruiser stood, arms folded, looking between us.

“What gives?” Bruiser asked, his stance negative, ready to defend or leave.

“Sit,” Tank ordered in a voice I hadn’t heard from him very often. Bruiser hesitated briefly before sitting down. Tank was, after all, the VP, giving him power over Bruiser.

“Max and I have been talking about Cricket’s behaviour, and by the way you were throwing those logs around, you are mad at something, and I am going to assume that it’s Cricket, too.” Bruiser nodded in agreement but said nothing, waiting for the reason he was brought in here.

“Max, do you want to tell him your theory?” I was nervous. I trained with Bruiser; his punches hurt, and if that was in training, what would his punches be like in anger? I have to trust Tank would stop him if he got angry.

“Before you ask, other than Tank, I have spoken to no one about this. I was concerned about how changed Cricket had been lately. I talked to Sticks after her big fight with Prez, and a lot of things keep going back to Cricket. It occurred to me today, when I saw my sister and her flat stomach, that Cricket should be showing even a little bump. My thoughts were that she had lost the baby, and in her panic, thinking you would disown her, she had been doing things out of the ordinary, to appear helpful, like taking over my ceremony and not talking to me or Sticks about the changes she was making. If she has lost the baby, she needs your support, and maybe a visit to the doctor.” I stopped talking when I saw Bruiser go pale.

“You could be right. I was angry with her and spoke harshly. She cried and hid in the room. I haven’t been able to see her since. I hear her crying on the other side of the door, and I don’t know what to do.” Bruiser looked broken, outside of his strong image.

“If you will let me, I can sit with her, talk to her about my suspicions. She needs help and someone to talk to, who won’t judge.”

Bruiser looked up at me in surprise.

“After all she’s done to you, you, would do that?”

“Of course, I know what it feels like to feel all alone. Will you stick by her if there’s no baby now?” I asked, needing to know where he stood on this.

“She’s stuck with me now, I don’t go around giving my cut out only to take it back, when there’s a setback.” I blew out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“Can you let me in the room? She might not answer the door if I knock.” We sat for a bit longer, Tank and Bruiser talked, while I listened and thought about how I was going to make this work; she wasn’t an ice cream kind of girl, so that wouldn’t work.

“Come on, let me get you in that room. I am ready now. Thank you, Max.” I looked at him quizzically.

“For caring.” I nodded, not willing to say much, my mind elsewhere.

I followed for a while, and then as we passed the bar, I reached over and grabbed a handful of chocolate bars and hid them in my pocket. We stopped at his room, and I stared at the door.

“Ready?” Bruiser asked, knowing this was not going to be easy.

“Yeah. Tank, can you stay with Bruiser while I work on Cricket?” Hopefully, Tank can make Bruiser feel less guilty; he was self-recriminating for not noticing that she might be in pain.

Bruiser opened the door and moved back, allowing me to enter, and the door closed behind me with a soft click.

The room was smaller than ours, clean, and cosy, in one corner was the baby’s cot, filled with cloths and plush toys. Lying in the middle of her bed was Cricket, her back to me, and hiccupping sobs.

I moved to the mini kitchen we all seem to have, and put the kettle on, still not speaking, and not hiding that I was in there. The clink of cups as I stirred the milk in the coffee, and turned to bring two cups over to the bed, placed them on the side table, sat on the bed, and waited for Cricket to acknowledge me, or at least turn to see who was in the room with her.

I waited a few minutes, then decided not to waste my hot coffee, leaned over, picked it up, and started to drink it. My movement had her turn her head to look at me; her face said she wasn’t expecting to see it was me.

“How are you now? Are you in pain?”

“Not physically.”

“Was that the way you have been a bi.tch to me?”

She looked at me, full of guilt and remorse.

“Sort of. I didn’t know how to deal with it; it ate away at me. Not just the hollow feeling of losing our child, but the fear of losing Bruiser, the club. I love it here.”

“Then I suggest, the first thing you do is talk to Bruiser, and then start behaving like the Cricket we all know, and not the bi.tch you were becoming.”

“Bruiser?”

“Yep. You start with him.” I pulled out the last of the chocolate bars and placed them on her lap. Pulled out my phone and called Bruiser.

“I was right, come upstairs, time you two talked.”

“Bruiser’s on his way up, talk, I mean, really talk, cry, scream, shout, whatever it takes.” I picked up her empty wrappers and threw them in the bin.

“Good luck, he’s a good man, try and be honest with him.” I turned to go to the door and stopped my hand on the door handle.

“Oh, and by the way, I think you have terrible taste in wedding dresses.” I opened the door to find Bruiser standing before it.

“She’s all yours, talk. Sort it.” I let him in, and I went to find Tank. I need a hug.