“A good choice,” Emory said with a smile.
“I’m grateful you’ve all given me this chance to prove myself to you,” I said gruffly.
“Nope,” Axel said. “None of that. No more proving yourself.”
Everyone else added their agreement, and soon after, we dug into the food, eating with relish. Aiden was quiet, not knowing everyone as well, but Bailey made a point to draw him into conversation.
My chest tightened as I watched my brother and my boyfriend mesh so effortlessly.
Knight leaned in and nudged me. “You’ve got a good thing here. Don’t fuck it up.”
“That’s the truth,” I said. “They know everything, and they didn’t tell me to take a hike.”
“It’s almost like a man is more than one mistake, huh?” Knight said.
His gaze slid to Aiden, and he said seriously, “Not that saving your brother is a mistake, Flynn. You did the best you could. And look around—you’ve got a whole new family to share with Aiden. I’d say it all worked out okay.”
I took in the group of guys at the table, so loyal and loving—who’d looked past my prison record to see the real guy beneath—and knew that I didn’t need to count my blessings.
They were all right here at the table with me.
Especially the beautiful man who’d chosen to build a life with me. Without him, the rest would be meaningless.
I reached out and squeezed Bailey’s hand. He sent me a smile that made my heart skip.
“Are you good?” he asked, leaning in closer.
“Yeah.” I brushed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ve never been better.”
Bailey loved me. His family accepted me. Aiden was thriving, healthy and whole.
I could ask for nothing more, and yet, as I sat there with the men who’d become my new family, I was blessed a little more.
Because a piece of the guilt I carried broke off and drifted away.
Not all of it. Not even half. But some.
I’d never be happy about what I’d done, or what I’d had to become to survive prison, but I wasn’t sorry to be here, now.
Maybe that meant I could finally make peace with my past. Because it had led me to this future. To Bailey.
To family and love and…happiness, at last.
EPILOGUE
FIVE YEARS LATER
Bailey
The paint compressorwhirred as I sprayed paint along the passenger side of the ’67 Riviera. The car slowly turned a shimmery gold that wasn’t for everyone but looked pretty badass from where I stood.
The compressor shut off, and I turned, dragging down my face mask as I did.
Flynn stood in the doorway. His arms strained the short sleeves of his black T-shirt, the tattoo he’d gotten on our one-year anniversary peeking out, depicting an eight ball with my name on it. Flynn liked to say that when he met me, it was game over. I’d won.
Behind him, the original auto shop had gone quiet. When we expanded to add restoration, we’d decided to build a separate bay to keep the noise and fumes of body and paint work from impacting the others too much.
I worked on both sides—because a lot of restoration projects required some mechanical fixes too. But I also did my share ofknocking out dents and replacing taillights after a little too much fender love.
