Steel, who will walk me down the aisle in place of the father I lost years ago. Steel, who has become a brother to me in the years since I joined this unlikely family.
I take a deep breath and open the door. "I'm ready."
And I am. Ready for this next step, this public declaration of what Tank and I have known for months: that we belong together. That what started in crisis has evolved into something neither of us expected but both of us cherish.
Steel offers his arm, his expression softening as he takes in my appearance. "Tank's a lucky man," he says simply.
"I'm the lucky one," I counter as we make our way toward the back door that will lead us to the ceremony.
Through the window, I catch a glimpse of Tank standing at the makeshift altar, his well-built body looking incredible in the formal suit he grudgingly agreed to wear. His usual leather cut is nowhere to be seen today, though I know it's hanging nearby, ready to be donned again as soon as the ceremony ends.
He's fidgeting slightly, eyes scanning the assembled guests before fixing on the door where I'll emerge. Even from here, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the uncharacteristic nervousness Jenny mentioned.
The sight fills me with tenderness. This man has stared down death more times than he can count, has broken bones and shed blood without hesitation, carries the weight of his club's safety on his broad shoulders, but he’s nervous about marrying me.
Then Anna appears at his side, tugging his hand to whisper something in his ear. Whatever she says makes him laugh, the tension visibly draining from his posture. He crouches down to her level, straightening her flower crown with a gentleness that still amazes me, considering the size and strength of his hands.
This is the man I'm marrying. Not just the enforcer, the protector, the warrior, though he is all of those things. But also the man who tells bedtime stories about brave rabbits, who teaches my daughter to ride a tiny bike with endless patience, who holds me through nightmares that have grown increasingly rare but haven't completely disappeared.
"You ready?" Steel asks as the first notes of music drift through the open windows. Also, not the traditional wedding march but "Stand By Me," a choice that felt right for both of us.
"More than ready," I assure him.
The door opens, and a sea of faces turn toward me. But I only see one. Tank's, his expression transforming from nervousanticipation to something so raw and full of wonder that tears spring to my eyes.
This is the man who saved me when I thought I was beyond saving. The man who showed me what real strength looks like. Not the ability to cause pain, but the courage to be gentle despite having the power to destroy.
As I walk toward him, past the assembled members of the Savage Riders and their partners, I think about the journey that brought us here. The desperate flight from Riverbrook. The fear and uncertainty of those first days. The moment on this very porch when everything changed.
Two broken people finding healing in each other.
When I reach him, Tank takes my hand, his much larger one engulfing mine completely. "You're beautiful," he murmurs, his voice pitched for my ears alone.
"So are you," I whisper back.
We turn toward the officiant, a justice of the peace who doesn't bat an eye at the gathered motorcycle club members, but before the ceremony begins, Tank leans down to whisper in my ear.
"I was right, you know."
"About what?" I ask, curious.
His smile is soft, private, meant only for me. "That night on the porch. I told you I'd make sure you never forgot it." His eyes darken with remembered passion. "Pretty sure we're never going to forget today either."
A laugh bubbles up from my chest, joy so pure it almost hurts. "I'm counting on it."
As the ceremony begins, I look out at the assembled faces… This unlikely family we've built together. The club members whohave become brothers. The women who have become sisters. My daughter, beaming with pride as she clutches her now-empty flower basket.
And beside me, the man who showed me that sometimes the most dangerous-looking people can have the gentlest hearts. The man who taught me that love isn't about control or fear or walking on eggshells. That real love strengthens rather than diminishes. Supports rather than constrains.
The man who once told me he was the perfect mistake, but turned out to be the best decision I ever made.
As we speak our vows, promising to stand by each other through whatever comes next, I realize the cabin has become more than just the place where we first connected. It's become a symbol of our journey. A sanctuary transformed by care and commitment and love.
Just like us.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the officiant declares, his voice nearly drowned out by the enthusiastic whoops and cheers from the assembled Savage Riders.
Tank's kiss is passionate despite our audience, his hand cradling my face. When we part, his eyes hold a promise, of passion later, certainly, but more importantly, of a future built on the foundation we've laid together.
Safety. Trust. Respect. Love.
As we turn to face our guests, now officially husband and wife, Anna rushes forward to wrap her arms around both of us. Tank lifts her, settling her on his hip despite her growing size, his free arm circling my waist to draw me against his side.
And in that moment, surrounded by the unlikely family we've built in this unexpected place, I realize something profound:
Sometimes the most beautiful journeys begin in the darkest places. Sometimes you have to run from what you know to find what you need. And sometimes, the most dangerous-looking road leads exactly where you're meant to be.
Home.
