I laugh, holding the onesie up.
It's so small.
So impossibly small.
In a few months, there's going to be a baby wearing this.
My baby.
Our baby.
"The whole club wanted to come," Garrett says. "Ruger had to practically tie Tildie down to keep her from piling into the truck. Maddox offered to ride escort—said he'd follow us on his bike just to make sure we got here safe. Coin asked if hisgirls could send you something, and I had to explain that you probably don't need a teenager's playlist of motivational songs."
I laugh, imagining it. "That's sweet."
"That's the club. They've been asking about you every day. Checking in, wanting updates. Ruger pulls me aside after every church meeting to ask how you're doing." He pauses. "They care, Van. All of them. Even the ones who don't say it out loud."
"It's been so long since I was part of that," I admit. "Part of anything, really. The club, I mean. Before everything went wrong, I used to hang out at the clubhouse all the time. Remember? I'd help Aunt Ellie behind the bar, talk to the other ol’ ladies, feel like I belonged somewhere."
"I remember."
"And then I stopped. I pulled away from everyone. The addiction made me selfish—it made everything about the next fix, and there wasn't room for anything else. I pushed away everyone who tried to help." I swallow hard. "I pushed you away."
"You tried to," he says quietly. "I didn't let you."
"No. You didn't." I lean into him, letting his warmth seep into my bones. "But I figured you might want a quiet Christmas anyway. Just us. And Aunt Ellie, of course."
"You figured right. This is perfect."
We eat Christmas dinner in the cafeteria—turkey and mashed potatoes, and green bean casserole that tastes almost like the real thing.
Aunt Ellie tells stories about Christmases past, about the year Ruger got his first bike and crashed it into the garage door, about the time the club threw a party that lasted three days straight.
"Those boys know how to celebrate," she says, shaking her head. "Loud and messy and full of love. That's the Saint’s Outlaws way."
"I remember," I say quietly. "Before everything went wrong, Garrett and I spent Christmas at the clubhouse a few times. Everyone was there. It felt like... family."
"It is family," Aunt Ellie says firmly. "Blood doesn't make a family. Choice does. And those boys chose each other. They chose Garrett. And they're choosing you too."
The words settle into my chest and stay there.
After dinner, we sit by the window and watch the snow fall.
Garrett holds me close, one hand on my stomach, and I think about what's waiting for me when I get out of here.
Not just freedom, but belonging.
A place in the world.
A family that's bigger than just me and Garrett.
"Two weeks," I whisper.
"Two weeks," he agrees. "And then you're coming home."
Home.
The clubhouse.
