Her voice softens. “Wanting to be with Bear isn’t a betrayal of you.”
She pauses, lets it sink in.
“You’re my brother,” she says firmly. “I’m not betraying you. And I’m not letting you disown me over this.”
I can see Rick wavering, anger colliding with something else—something heavier.
Natalie doesn’t let up.
“Bear took care of me,” she continues. “He protected me. He gave me a reason to get up in the morning when I was terrified you wouldn’t wake up. We worried about you together. We visited you. We did everything we could think of to make sure you’d walk out of here and live your life on your own terms.”
She draws a breath. “You’re more important than you realize. You shouldn’t punish me for wanting a husband.”
Rick looks at her then. Really looks.
I watch his expression shift as he takes her in. The weight she’s gained. The color in her face. The way she stands—steady, sure of herself. She looks cared for. Happy. I know that matters to him, even if he won’t say it.
I don’t move. Natalie stands there, waiting. And I understand something then, clear as day—nothing is ever going back to the way it was.
When Rick doesn’t respond, Natalie closes the distance between them and wraps her arms around him before he can pull away. He stiffens at first, tension radiating off him, but when she doesn’t let go, I see him sag just a little.
Then she whispers something I can’t hear.
Rick pulls back just enough to look at her, brow furrowed. I see the moment it hits him. His gaze drops to where her hands rest over her stomach.
Understanding slams into him like a freight train.
Natalie smiles, small and knowing. “You’re going to be an uncle in a few months.”
Rick’s head snaps towards me. I don’t look away. My jaw is tight, but there’s no apology in my eyes. I’m not giving her up. Not now. Not ever.
I see it dawn on him then. He’s not losing a sister. After years of it just being him, he’s gaining a family.
“Gonna need to get a fuckin’ sidecar, ‘cause I ain’t getting’ no damn cage,” he mutters.
Natalie laughs, the sound light and real, and for the first time since this all blew up, the air shifts.
Relief sneaks in. He’s okay. We’re okay. We’re gonna do this.
When one of the nurses reappears with a wheelchair, the moment breaks, but the damage—or maybe the healing—is already done.
As we head out, sunlight blinding after too long inside, I slide Rick his sunglasses without a word. He takes them.
And as we roll forward together, one truth settles deep in my chest.
Nothing is the same anymore.
But for the first time, I’m sure it’s better this way.
Epilogue
Natalie
Two Months Later
I wake up before dawn, the bed is warm beside me. I smile to myself when I see Bear sprawled half on his back. He always has one arm draped across my waist like he never wants to fully let go of me in his sleep. I add that to the list of a thousand and one adorable things I like about my big biker. His breath is steady and deep. That’s how I know that he’s getting some good sleep.
I ease his arm off me and carefully slide out from under the covers. My goal is always not to disturb his sleep just because I can’t sleep, and now I’m four months pregnant, that seems to happen regularly. Either worries about the birth fill my mind, or the fact that I need to go to the bathroom.
