His eyes search my face now, guarded, like he’s bracing himself for what I’ll say next. Like he’s already convinced it might break him.
“In fact,” I say softly, meeting his gaze, “you’ve been pretty perfect these last few months.”
His breath hitches.
“When you first showed up here, I wasn’t happy,” I admit. “I didn’t expect you to have changed. Or to care about what I wanted. I thought you’d make demands. Maybe even try to take her from me.” His brow furrows deeper. “And I never thought I’d forgive you. I assumed you’d say your piece then go back to the club.” I take a steadying breath. “But I was wrong.”
He doesn’t speak, his eyes fixed on me.
“You stayed,” I continue. “You proved you could. You gave me time. Space. You were patient. Careful. It’s like you finally saw what I needed all along.” My voice wobbles slightly. “And the group sessions . . . the effort you made just to understand me, it meant everything.”
“I had a lot of growing up to do,” he mutters. “I didn’t see it until I came here.”
I reach for his hand, and he gives it to me without hesitation.
“But I don’t want you to give up your life,” I say gently.
He shakes his head immediately. “Eden—”
“Just listen,” I cut in softly. “Because one day, you’ll be in the garden playing with her,” I nod to our daughter, “and you’ll think about summers with the club—kids running wild, grills smoking, bikes revving in the background. You’ll see a biker pass and imagine how much she’d love having fifty uncles watching out for her.”
His grip tightens, tears gathering in his eyes.
“Without you, none of that matters,” he says thickly. “Those memories, they all have you in them. I wanna look across the yard while I’m grilling and see you laughing with the old ladies. I wanna sit our baby girl on my bike and have you take the photo so she remembers it.”
I lift my hand to his face, my thumb gently brushing away the tear that slips free.
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Kade,” I whisper. “I want to be there with you. I want our daughter to have that freedom, that life.” I meet his gaze fully. “I want us to go home.”
He inhales sharply, shock flashing across his face.
“This life here is lovely,” I continue. “Perfect, even. And if I wanted to run a farm, own sheep and chickens, I’d sign up permanently.” I smile faintly. “But I never really liked the smell of farm animals. And I hate gossip that travels faster than breakfast.”
His lips twitch.
“I want bike oil and whiskey,” I finish softly. “I want us to try again.”
His chest heaves with heavy emotion as he nods, words failing him.
“But this time, we do things right,” I say firmly. “We’re completely honest about it all. The club, the shit you do. The things I need to look out for to keep our daughter safe.”
He nods again. “Of course.”
“I mean it, Kade. I can’t keep us safe if I don’t know the dangers to look out for.”
He leans closer, pressing his forehead to mine. “You get to know it all, I swear. I know you’re stronger than I give you credit for. I’ll tell you everything.”
EPILOGUE
EDEN
Two weeks later . . .
I step outside to the sound of engines.
It rolls through the yard like a heartbeat—steady, familiar, alive. Bikes lining up. Laughter. Someone revving a little too loud. The smell of fuel and barbecue smoke hangs heavy in the air, mixing with spring heat and something that feels like home.
I pause just inside the clubhouse doors, our daughter tucked against my chest in her sling, her tiny fist curled into my top like she owns me.She does.
