Vegas appears in the doorway and spots me immediately. He strides over, grinning like he just won the lottery. “About damn time you showed up,” he says. “We've been busting ass for the last hour.”
I hop out of the truck. “Man, I don't even know what to say.”
“Then don't say anything. Just get your ass inside and help.” He turns toward the clubhouse, raising his voice. “All right, listen up!” Everyone stops what they're doing, turning to face him. “Lose the monkey suits,” Vegas announces. “We're wearing our cuts. This is a biker wedding, and we're gonna look like bikers, but it better lookgood, you hear me? Clean jeans, polished boots, no oil stains. I already cleared it with Amy.”
A cheer goes up, and I can't help but chuckle. “Wait,” I say, grabbing Vegas's arm. “What does Hope think of this?”
Vegas grins. “Amy said she'll handle the bride.”
That's all I need to hear. If Amy's handling it, Hope's in good hands.
“Now get back to work!” Vegas shouts, and everyone scatters, moving with renewed energy.
I step inside, and the transformation is already underway. The bar's been cleared, tables pushed to the sides to make room for rows of chairs. White and gold fabric drapes from the ceiling, softening the rough edges of the clubhouse. Dozens of flowers are being arranged on every surface, and Colt's stringing fairy lights along the walls.
Chaos appears at my side, handing me a beer. “Hell of a day, brother,” he says.
I take a long drink as I watch our brothers work. Saints Outlaws’ members are treating this like it's a wedding for one of their own, and Death’s Gambit members move with purpose to make sure every detail is perfect.
I clink my beer against his. “To one hell of a day.”
This right here is what it means to be part of something bigger than yourself.
This is family.
I stare at my reflection in a mirror in one of the back rooms. Luckily, I packed a newer pair of black jeans. After rolling up the sleeves on my white button-down shirt, I slide my leather cut over my shoulders. It feels familiar on my back, and I look more like myself than I would in a suit. For Hope, I was willing to wear whatever she wanted, but I like this better.
This isme. Rough, raw, and unfiltered.
I reach into my pocket to make sure the folded paper is there. I stayed up late last night to write my vows after Hope went to her parents. She doesn't know what I have planned. I want it to be a surprise.
Knock. Knock.
The door opens, and Chaos walks in, grinning like an idiot. “You look like you're about to puke,” he jokes. I flip him off. “There he is.” He crosses his arms as he leans against the doorframe. “Thought maybe you'd bolted. Wouldn't be the first time you ran from something good.”
I shoot him a look. “Not funny.”
“Little bit funny.” He steps closer, and his expression softens. “You good, brother?”
I exhale slowly, running a hand through my hair. “I'm nervous as hell.”
“Well, you should be. You almost fucked this up the other night with your dramatic ass.”
I can't help but laugh. “Jesus, tell me how you really feel, Chaos.”
“But you didn't,” Chaos says, his voice serious now. “You fought for her, and she fought for you. That's the only thing that matters.” I nod, swallowing hard. “Hope's the one, Frost. You know it, I know it. Hell, everyone in this clubhouse knows it.” He claps me on the shoulder. “So, stop overthinking, and go marry your girl.”
There's another knock on the door, and Eagle's voice calls through. “Hope's here! It's time!”
Hope’s here.
My heart slams against my ribs.
Chaos grins widely. “Let's get you married, brother.”
I take a deep breath. “I’m ready.”
The clubhouse is packed when I enter the common room. I take my place under the arch with Chaos right beside me, hands clasped in front of him, grinning like an idiot.
