The cabin looks nothing like it did that first night.
Where once there were bare wooden boards and furniture, there are now flowers. Wildflowers mostly, cascading from every available surface in a riot of color that makes the rustic space feel like something from a fairy tale.
White fabric has been draped from the porch rafters, creating a makeshift altar space where Tank and I will say our vows. Rows of mismatched chairs have been arranged on the newly expanded porch and lawn, filled with leather-clad men and their partners, all watching with expressions ranging from amusement to genuine emotion.
From the makeshift bridal suite (really just the main bedroom with a full-length mirror added), I can hear the murmur of conversation, the occasional burst of laughter. The Savage Riders and their significant others, gathered to celebrate something none of them, least of all Tank himself, ever expected to witness: the marriage of the club's ice-cold Vice-President.
"Mommy, do I look pretty?" Anna twirls in her pale lavender dress, flower crown slightly askew on her blonde curls.
"The prettiest flower girl ever," I assure her, adjusting the crown. At seven, she's all gangly limbs and boundless energy, a far cry from the frightened child who arrived at this very cabin two years ago.
The transformation isn't just physical. The shadows that once lurked in her eyes have vanished, replaced by the carefree confidence every child deserves. She hasn't seen Derek since that night. True to his word, Tank made sure of it.
The restraining order became permanent, and when Derek tried to contest it six months after we fled, a mysterious envelope of evidence appeared on his police chief's desk. He was quietly forced to resign, his career ending with a whimper rather than the bang he'd always feared.
"Is it time yet?" Anna asks, bouncing on her toes. "I practiced dropping the petals all week with Uncle Beast."
I smile at the mention of Beast, who has become Anna's devoted protector and honorary uncle. The massive biker who once struck fear into the hearts of men twice his size now regularly attends tea parties with stuffed animals, his enormous hands surprisingly delicate with the tiny plastic cups.
"Almost time, sweetheart. Jenny's just checking if everyone's ready."
As if summoned by her name, Jenny appears in the doorway, resplendent in her maid of honor dress. The same shade of lavender as Anna's but cut to showcase her curves.
"They're ready when you are," she says, her smile radiant. "Though fair warning, I think my brother might actually be nervous. Never thought I'd see the day."
I laugh, the sound coming easily now. "Tank? Nervous? The man who once faced down an entire rival MC without breaking a sweat?"
"Marriage is scarier than any biker war," Jenny says with mock solemnity. "At least according to King, who's currently giving Tank the 'it's not too late to run' speech while Luna smacks him for it."
The mention of King and Luna makes me smile. Their relationship was what gave me hope in those early days. Proofthat even the most hardened man could open his heart when he found the right woman.
"Well, I hope Tank knows it actually is too late to run," I say, smoothing down my dress. It's not traditional. Ivory rather than white, with a silhouette that accentuates my curves rather than hiding them, and considerably less formal than most wedding gowns. But it's perfect for a ceremony at the cabin where everything changed for us.
"He's not going anywhere," Jenny assures me. "I've never seen my brother look at anyone the way he looks at you. Like you hung the moon and stars."
There was a time when such words would have embarrassed me, made me feel unworthy. Derek had spent years convincing me I was nothing special, that I should be grateful for his attention. It's taken time and patience—both Tank's and my own—to unlearn those toxic lessons.
"Auntie Jenny, can I go show Daddy my dress?" Anna asks, tugging at Jenny's hand. "I want to see if he thinks I look pretty too."
My heart swells at her casual use of "Daddy." It had happened naturally, about six months after we moved in with Tank. No pressure, no coaching, just Anna's innocent question over breakfast one morning: "Can I call you Daddy? Since you do all the daddy things?"
Tank had nearly choked on his coffee, his eyes suspiciously bright as he managed a gruff, "If you want to, kid."
"Go ahead," I tell her now. "But remember—"
"No telling him what your dress looks like," she finishes for me, rolling her eyes in a perfect imitation of a teenager despite being years away from that milestone. "I know, Mom. It's bad luck."
As she dashes off, Jenny gives me a final hug. "I'll go make sure everything's ready. Take all the time you need."
Left alone, I turn to the mirror for one last look. The woman who stares back at me is almost unrecognizable from the one who arrived in Blackwater Falls two years ago. There's confidence in her posture, joy in her eyes, and most importantly, peace in her expression. The constant fear that had been my companion for so long is gone, replaced by a certainty that still sometimes catches me by surprise.
I'm safe. Anna's safe. We're loved.
The simple bouquet of wildflowers in my hand matches the ones decorating the cabin. Tank's idea, surprisingly enough.
"These are the real thing," he'd said when I suggested more traditional roses. "Just like you."
A soft knock at the door interrupts my thoughts. "It's time," Steel calls gently.
