Husband. That word still sends a pleasant warmth through me.
As I count the register, my phone buzzes with a text from Emma Kane:
*Lily is having a blast with her cousin. Don't worry about a thing. Enjoy your anniversary!*
Attached is a photo of my two-year-old daughter grinning widely, chocolate smeared around her mouth, sitting in Emma's lap while Reaper's grandson plays nearby. I smile, typing back a quick thank you. Emma and Wilder have been godsends, especially since they had their own son last year. Lily loves having a "cousin" close to her age, even if the family connections are more chosen than biological.
The register balanced, I head upstairs to our apartment: the same one Knight once pretended to renovate. We still live abovethe bookstore, though we bought a small house on the edge of town last year after he sold his place. We're renovating it slowly, enjoying the process of creating a forever home together. For now, the apartment remains our primary residence, convenient for the business and for Knight's club responsibilities.
I shower quickly and change into the new dress I bought for tonight—a deep green wrap style that Knight will appreciate for both its color and the way it highlights my curves. Some things haven't changed in three years.
As I apply the finishing touches to my makeup, I hear the distinctive rumble of a motorcycle pulling up behind the building. Right on time, as always.
I check my reflection once more, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. At twenty-six, I look different than the terrified witness who fled across rooftops three years ago. More confident. Happier. The soft curves that once made me self-conscious now wear the marks of motherhood—stretch marks from carrying Lily, a fullness that comes from contentment rather than stress eating.
Knight loves every inch.
I head downstairs, exiting through the back door where my husband waits, straddling his Harley. The sight still makes my heart skip. Knight in his full Outlaw Order cut, the patches gleaming in the evening sun. The center patch he earned eighteen months ago, after completing his prospect period.
That had been a long, complicated road. His decision to protect me, to put me before club protocol, had extended his prospect period by a full year. But Reaper, for all his intimidating presence, recognized Knight's value to the club. And perhaps more importantly, recognized that Knight and I were a package deal.
"Evening, beautiful," Knight says, extending a hand to help me onto the bike.
I still marvel at how different he looks now compared to when we met. The military precision remains, but his face is more relaxed. The burden of always following every rule has lifted, replaced by a more nuanced understanding of honor and duty.
"Hi, handsome," I reply, settling behind him and wrapping my arms around his waist. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
The ride is familiar. Out of town, up into the hills that surround Pine Haven. Not toward the clubhouse, but in the opposite direction, where the forest opens occasionally to reveal stunning valley views.
We turn onto a narrow dirt road I don't recognize, winding through trees until we reach a small clearing. In the center stands our house—the renovation project we've been working on for months—but it looks different now. Completed. The porch has been finished, windows installed, fresh paint gleaming in the evening light.
"Knight?" I question as he stops the bike.
He helps me off, his green eyes twinkling with pleased anticipation. "Happy anniversary."
"You finished it?" I can't keep the wonder from my voice. "When? How?"
"The club helped. Been working on it whenever you were busy with Lily or the store." He takes my hand, leading me toward the porch. "Wanted to surprise you."
Inside, the transformation is even more dramatic. Photos on the walls—our wedding day, Lily's birth, family gatherings with theclub. In the dining room, a table is set for two, candles waiting to be lit, a bottle of wine breathing.
"Welcome home," Knight says, watching my reaction.
"It's perfect," I whisper, turning to face him. "All of it."
He pulls me into his arms, and I go willingly, tilting my face up for his kiss. After three years, his touch still ignites the same warmth, the same certainty that I am exactly where I belong.
The meal is delicious. Knight has become a surprisingly good cook over the years, another skill mastered with his typical dedication. We talk about everything and nothing—Lily's latest adventures, the bookstore's expansion plans, club business that's appropriate to share.
Through it all, I find myself marveling at the journey that brought us here. From a terrified witness and her reluctant protector to partners, parents, a family.
"What are you thinking about?" Knight asks, reaching across the table for my hand.
"How different my life would be if I hadn't been early to court that day. If I hadn't heard what I wasn't supposed to hear."
He considers this, thumb tracing circles on my palm. "Do you ever regret it? Recording what you heard? Everything that came after?"
