"There's my favorite niece!" James calls out, removing his helmet and crouching down as Naomi toddles toward him on unsteady legs. He scoops her up, tossing her gently in the air before settling her on his hip.
The sight still amazes me. James Mercer, once the epitome of selfishness and irresponsibility, now a devoted uncle who never misses a visit, who remembers every milestone, who shows up not just when it's convenient but when it matters.
"Hey, stranger," Holly greets him, moving to give her brother a one-armed hug, careful not to squish Naomi between them. "We weren't expecting you until tomorrow."
"Finished the inventory at the shop early," James explains, referring to his job managing the Savage Riders' legitimate auto parts store in town. It's a position of trust he's earned through two years of sobriety and steadfast service to the club. "Thought I'd come see this little monster a day early."
He tickles Naomi's belly, eliciting another round of giggles. My daughter adores her uncle, a relationship I've grown to appreciate despite my initial reservations about James's involvement in our lives.
"Perfect timing," I tell him, clasping his shoulder in greeting. "The whole club's coming over for dinner."
James nods, understanding the significance. It's the anniversary of the operation that eliminated Vulture and ended the war with the Iron Eagles—a date we mark each year, remembering both the lives lost and the peace gained.
"I brought beer," James says, gesturing to the saddlebags on his bike. "The good stuff, not that cheap crap you like."
I laugh, shaking my head. "Put it in the fridge. I'll grab your bags."
As James carries Naomi toward the house, chatting animatedly about the toy he's brought her, Holly slides under my arm, leaning into my side.
"He looks good," she observes. "Healthy."
"He is," I agree, watching her brother with my daughter. "Two years sober, managing the store like he was born for it. King says he's considering offering him prospect status next year if he stays on track."
Holly's eyes widen slightly. "Really? You think he'd want that?"
I shrug. "The club's changed a lot in two years. King's pushed us further toward legitimate business, away from the more dangerous aspects. James might find a place there that works for him."
The Savage Riders of today are a far cry from the club I joined years ago. After Vulture's death, King accelerated his plans to transition the club away from criminal enterprises, focusing instead on our legal businesses—the auto shop, the parts store, Luna's medical supply company, and most recently, a security firm that employs several former members who wanted out of outlaw life.
Inside the house, James is already on the floor playing with Naomi, her wooden blocks scattered around them as they builda tower together. The scene is a far cry from the night we arrived here two years ago. Three damaged people fleeing for their lives, uncertain of the future, bound together by circumstance and desperation.
Now we're a family, expanded and strengthened by choice rather than obligation.
"I'm going to shower before everyone arrives," Holly says, rising on tiptoes to kiss me softly. "Keep an eye on those two troublemakers."
"Always," I promise, watching her disappear down the hallway to our bedroom.
I move to the kitchen, grabbing two non-alcoholic beers from the fridge. The thought of the gathering brings a smile to my face as I recall how these club dinners have evolved over the past two years from tense strategy sessions to genuine family celebrations.
"What are you grinning about?" James asks, accepting the beer I offer him.
"Just thinking about how much has changed," I reply, settling into the armchair opposite where he sits on the floor with Naomi. "Two years ago today, we were holed up here waiting to hear if the club had managed to take out Vulture."
James's expression sobers. "I remember. I was climbing the walls, convinced we were all going to die. You and Holly were trying to figure out what the hell you were to each other." He smiles wryly. "And I was being an absolute dick about the whole thing."
"You had your moments," I acknowledge with a laugh. "But you came around."
"Eventually." He looks down at Naomi, who's now contentedly disassembling the tower they built. "Best decision I ever made, getting help. I'd have missed all this."
James and I have come a long way from adversaries to something resembling friends, possibly even brothers. We'll never be best friends. Too much history, too many fundamental differences, but we've found mutual respect and common ground in our love for Holly and Naomi.
"She's proud of you," I tell him. "We both are."
The sound of multiple motorcycles approaching draws our attention. The Savage Riders have arrived.
"They're here," I announce, rising to my feet. "Can you watch Naomi while I fire up the grill?"
"Uncle duty accepted," James replies with a mock salute, already fully engaged in rebuilding the tower for Naomi to destroy again.
