"I know," I say. "I know you hate this. But Rachel, they were threatening the club. Threatening families. I couldn't just—"
"I'm not asking you to." She takes a breath, clearly trying to calm herself. "I know what the club means to you. I know protectingpeople is who you are. But it still scares the shit out of me every time you walk out that door."
I cup her face with my less-damaged hand. "I'm sorry. I'm always sorry for making you worry."
"I know you are." She leans into my touch, her anger softening into concern. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up before you bleed all over my clean floors."
She leads me to the kitchen and makes me sit at the table while she gathers supplies—first aid kit, ice pack, clean towels. The familiar ritual of her patching me up, something that's happened too many times in the past two years.
Rachel cleans the blood from my face and hands. Her touch is gentle despite her obvious frustration, and I find myself relaxing under her care.
"The Demon Souls won't be coming back," I tell her as she dabs antiseptic on my split knuckles. "King made it clear that Blackwater Falls is off-limits. They got the message."
"Good." She applies bandages. "Maybe we'll get more than a month of peace this time."
"Maybe."
We both know that's wishful thinking. There's always another threat, another club looking to test the Savage Riders, another situation that needs handling. It's the life we chose when I brought her into this world.
When she chose to stay with me.
"How's Beatrice?" I ask, changing the subject.
Rachel's expression softens immediately. "She's perfect. Slept for four hours straight this afternoon, which was amazing. Thenshe proceeded to spit up on every clean outfit I put her in, which was less amazing."
I smile, and this time it doesn't hurt. "She gets that from you. The stubborn streak."
"She gets it from both of us." Rachel finishes with my hands and moves to examine my face closely. "You're definitely going to have a black eye. And your lip is going to be swollen for a few days. Try not to smile too much."
"Don't worry. Not much to smile about when you're pissed at me."
"I'm not pissed." She sighs, pressing the ice pack gently against my eye. "I'm scared. There's a difference. Every time you leave for club business, I wonder if you're going to come back. And now we have a daughter, and the thought of her growing up without a father because some asshole MC decided to start shit—"
Her voice breaks, and I see tears forming in her eyes. I pull her onto my lap, ignoring the protest from my ribs. She curls into me, and I hold her close, breathing in the familiar scent of her strawberry shampoo.
"I'm not going anywhere," I tell her fiercely. "I promise you, Rachel. I'm going to come home to you and our daughter every single time. No matter what."
"You can't promise that. You can't control everything."
"No. But I can be smart. I can trust my brothers to have my back." I tilt her chin up so she's looking at me. "And I can promise that I'll fight like hell to make it back to you. Because you and Beatrice are everything to me. Everything."
Rachel's tears spill over, and she buries her face against my chest. I hold her while she cries, one hand stroking her hair, the other pressed against her back.
Two years ago, I was a shadow living in darkness, convinced I didn't deserve happiness or love or any kind of normal life. I took a bullet for a woman I didn't know and somehow found everything I'd been missing.
Rachel gave me light. Gave me hope. Gave me a family I never thought I'd have.
And five months ago, she gave me our Beatrice, our perfect, beautiful daughter with Rachel's dark hair and my gray eyes. A miracle I still don't fully believe I deserve.
"I'm sorry," Rachel whispers against my chest. "I know you need to do this. I know protecting people is part of who you are. I just... I love you so fucking much, and the thought of losing you destroys me."
"You're not going to lose me." I kiss the top of her head. "I'm too stubborn to die. You said so yourself."
That gets a watery laugh out of her. "You are pretty stubborn."
"Learned from the best."
We sit like that for a while, just holding each other. The ice pack is probably doing nothing for my eye anymore, but I don't care. This—Rachel in my arms, our daughter sleeping upstairs, the knowledge that I have a home and a family to come back to—this is worth every bruise, every fight, every risk.
