When Roses Collide

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Butch was talking, but his voice had faded into the background. Only one thing held Travis's attention, and it wasn't the group of men sitting on his front porch. And it wasn't the beer label he was idly peeling away either. It was the sound of Dr. Archer's voice telling them Harley wasn't pregnant.

"Are you sure?" Travis had asked. "Maybe you should test again."

Doc Archer had cocked an eyebrow at him, giving him a look that hinted Travis was a special kind of stupid.

"You see those diplomas framed on the wall?" he'd said, pointing to the long line of impressive credentials. "I didn't get those by being unsure. And to refresh your memory, Montgomery, this is the second test." He had rose irritably from his chair, or...in his normal manner...with him, it was hard to tell. "I don't know how else to tell you. The rabbit didn't die, it's happily bouncing around. Now, congratulations or my sympathies, pick whichever one fits this scenario. If you wanted to have children, the good news is you get to keep trying. If you didn't want the next 18 years sucked out of your life, then you dodged a bullet." Walking over to one of the drawers, he produced several strips of condoms and tossed them on the examination table. "Those are if you are not interested in having a baby. I suggest you use them. Unless you need directions on proper safe sex practices, I am going to see about making a therapist appointment."

"Therapy?" Travis's head snapped around. "You think Harley needs therapy?"

"It's not for her, it's for me. After dealing with the bunch of you, and the thought of having to deal with you again if you do ever get your girl pregnant...has made me come to the conclusion I might need it." With a tight smile, he walked out of the room, leaving him and Harley staring after him dumbfounded.

The strange feeling in his gut from hearing the news hadn't gotten any better after he left, he thought miserably, working his thumb over the crumbling label. The whole way home, he wanted to reach out...wanted to say something...anything, but it was if he had turned into a fucking mute. Before he knew it, they were pulling up in front of her house. She crawled out of his pickup and walked inside without either of them saying a thing. He couldn't even tell what she had been thinking. When they walked outside, she had slipped on those goddamn sunglasses, and every time he looked her way, he saw his own confused, muddled expression reflecting back at him.

"Hey, Travis? Are we boring you?" Butch drawled from his position of leaning against the porch rail. "Because, I sure as shit have better things to do if you're done trying to find out who's attempting to knock off your girlfriend."

Travis jerked his head up as if he'd been slapped. "I'm listening," he muttered.

Ethan laughed. "Like hell you are. Where the fuck are you wandering off to in that head of yours?"

"Probably wondering if he knocked up my baby girl or not."

Travis's eyes jumped over to Bo who appeared around the corner of the porch, coming to stand in front of Travis with his massive arms crossed over his chest, and plenty of hate raging on his face.

"And judging by the way she's been acting since he abandoned her at our front doorstep like some kind of fucking unwanted dog, I'm guessing he did."

"What the hell are you talking about, Richards?" Ethan asked warily, pushing himself up from his chair to stand behind Travis, matching Bo's stance with one of his own.

"This is none of your business, Sheriff." Bo shifted his head slightly, to indicate Butch who had also moved to stand silently next to Travis. "And I have no issues with you either, mister, unless you get in my way." He glared back down at Travis. "My problem is solely with Montgomery here, and he's had plenty of warning of what would happen if he hurt our girl. If you want to arrest me after I finish kicking his ass, I'll be happy to go peacefully. But, if you get in the way of me teaching this asshole a lesson he'll never forget, then that's on you."