"Laundry room!" I call back, smiling to myself as I continue folding the mountain of clothes on the kitchen table. "Freshly washed, as promised."
There's a thunder of footsteps down the stairs as Eli appears, now a handsome eighteen-year-old with his father's green eyes and my patient temperament.
He's grown tall. Six feet already and likely not done with broad shoulders that make the high school girls swoon and keep Rage in a perpetual state of vigilance.
"You're the best," he says, grabbing the sweatshirt from the pile and pulling it over his head. "Dad says we need to leave in twenty minutes if we want to miss traffic."
"Your father has been ready to leave since 5 AM," I laugh. "I caught him rearranging your boxes in the truck for the third time."
Eli rolls his eyes, but there's affection in the gesture. "He's freaking out, isn't he?"
"Completely," I confirm. "But trying not to show it."
"I'm only going to college, not the moon," Eli mutters, but I can see the same emotions playing across his face.
"To your father, it might as well be the moon." I place a hand on his cheek, still surprised sometimes that I have to reach up to do so. "He's proud of you, you know. We both are."
Eli leans into my touch for just a moment. "I know. I just wish he'd stop acting like I'm betraying the family by choosing college over the club."
"He doesn't think that," I assure him. "Not for a second. This was always the plan. For you to have choices we didn't have."
"But I could have stayed," Eli insists. "Joined the Riders, worked at the garage. Been part of something that matters."
I shake my head, resuming my folding. "The club will always be there if that's what you truly want after college. But your father and I are adamant. You need to experience something different first. A safer life, with opportunities we never had."
The back door opens before Eli can respond, and Rage enters, wiping grease from his hands with a shop towel. Despite the decade that's passed, he's still as handsome as the day I met him. Perhaps more so now, with threads of silver at his temples and the settled confidence of a man who's found his peace.
"Truck's packed," he announces. "Just need to load the last of your clothes and that laptop."
Eli nods, grabbing another stack of clothes from the table. "I'll get the rest of my stuff."
As he bounds back upstairs, Rage comes to stand behind me, wrapping his arms around my expanding waistline, his hands resting on the seven-month baby bump that's made folding laundry increasingly challenging.
"You okay?" he murmurs against my hair.
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" I lean back into his solid warmth. "You're the one who reorganized the truck three times."
"Four," he corrects, pressing a kiss to my neck. "Wanted to make sure everything was secure."
"It's a four-hour drive, not an apocalypse supply run," I tease gently.
"Might as well be," he grumbles, but there's no heat in it. Just the natural worry of a father watching his son prepare to leave the nest.
I turn in his arms, taking his face between my hands. Ten years together, and I still feel that same flutter when he looks at me with those intense green eyes.
"He'll be fine," I assure him. "We raised him right. He's smart, capable, and knows how to handle himself."
"I know." Rage sighs, pressing his forehead to mine. "Just didn't expect it to be this hard."
"That's because you're a good father." I smooth my thumbs over his cheekbones, "The best."
"We did good with him, didn't we? Despite everything." He asks me.
And there had been plenty of "everything" over the past decade. Vulture's eventual return and final defeat. The club's gradual transformation under King's leadership, shifting toward legitimate businesses while maintaining their brotherhood. My own journey from frightened runaway to confident businesswoman, the vintage clothing store I'd dreamed of now a successful reality in downtown Blackwater Falls.
"We did amazing," I confirm. "And we'll do amazing with this one too." I guide his hand back to my belly, where our daughter delivers a well-placed kick as if in agreement.
"Little fighter, just like her mom," Rage says, pride evident in his voice.
