Nineteen. That’s all I was. Soon to be twenty. Kids weren’t in my game plan. Not now. Maybe not ever. I wanted independence. A degree. A business with my name on the sign. A life that was mine alone before I even thought about sharing it with anyone else.
But the sight of Maria with her baby, Diego crying quietly at her side—it carved a soft ache into me I didn’t know what to do with. Like I was peeking through a window into a life that wasn’t mine, and part of me wasn’t sure if I wanted to look away.
I snorted at myself, trying to shake it off. “Get it together, McCarthy. You’ve got essays to submit and pizza to eat, not diapers to change.” Straightening, I squared my shoulders and forced my feet back toward Maria’s room. Because the truth was, I wasn’t ready for that life.
But I was ready to stand beside Maria as she stepped into hers.
And maybe, just maybe, someday I’d figure out the rest.
Chapter Sixteen
? Holly ?
September blurred into spit-up, sleepless nights, and the kind of diaper blowouts that deserved their own crime scene tape. I’d submitted my college application at the end of August, hit “send,” and nearly threw up in the process. Now all I could do was wait. And stalk my mailbox. And maybe threaten it once or twice under my breath in between stress-eating Oreos.
Every afternoon, I trudged down the driveway, checking for the fat envelope that would change my life. Instead, I got bills, junk ads, and once, a glossy pamphlet about tractor parts. Nothing screams “bright academic future” like spark plugs and hay balers.
With my application sent off, all I could do was wait, and waiting was torture. I didn’t have the patience for it, so I threw myself into the one distraction available: Maria and Jewel. Which meant spending a lot more time at the clubhouse than I ever expected. And it wasn’t just Jewel who got welcomed like royalty. Yeah, the guys all lined up to take turns holding her like she was the crown jewel of the Steel Saints (pun intended), but what threw me off was how they treated me. These were gruff, scarred, leather cut wearing bikers, and yet every time I walked in, someone shoved a soda in my hand, someone else pulled up a chair, and before I knew it, I was smack in the middle of the chaos. Like…family. The kind of family I didn’t exactly ask for, but maybe needed.
Dalton, of course, decided to push this whole newfound bond thing further. Which was how I found myself lounging in an overstuffed armchair as he unveiled a rather hair-brained idea. “You’re around us enough,” he said, smirking. “You should learn to ride.”
“That’s a terrible idea,” Mac muttered from across the room.
“Best idea,” Dalton insisted.
“Worst,” Mac fired back.
Maria and Diego exchanged a look, equal parts amused and horrified. Maria bounced Jewel on her hip, eyes dancing.
Dalton shoved a helmet at me. “C’mon, Holly.”
Against all logic, I put it on. Dalton ran me through a rushed tutorial—clutch, throttle, brake—while Mac muttered about life insurance policies. As Dalton talked, word spread around the place about what was about to go down. A California princess about to ride a motorcycle for the first time? Not a show you wanted to miss, apparently. Even Hannah had meandered out onto the porch, wiping her hands on a tea towel.
After a bit, Dalton asked if I’d got it.
“I think so?” He stepped back, and gestured for me to go. Then I twisted the throttle.
The bike rocketed forward, straight toward the warehouse wall. Bikers scattered; I heard Diego roared with laughter. Maria squealed, and Jewel decided to join in the noise and squealed too. Dalton yelled, “Clutch! Clutch!”
I screamed. Dalton lunged, grabbed the handlebars, and yanked them sideways at the last second. We skidded to a stop inches from destruction. For a beat, silence. Then the room erupted with laughter.
Dalton patted my helmet, wheezing with laughter. “Not bad—for a first try.”
“First and last try! I almost Road Runnered through your wall!” I shouted, yanking the helmet off.
Mac rubbed his temples. “Told you this was a horrible fucking idea.”
Diego grinned. “Best entertainment we’ve had in weeks.”
I wanted to be mad, but instead I found myself laughing too—louder than I’d laughed in months.
One quiet afternoon at Maria’s place, Maria had finally crashed hard on the couch, mouth open, snoring soft little whistles. I crept over to Jewel’s bassinet. She was wide awake, gurgling, fists waving at nothing.
“Hey, Lil Bit,” I whispered, scooping her up. She was warm and heavy in my arms, and I couldn’t help myself—I lifted her like Rafiki presenting Simba to the Pride Lands. “Behold! The new queen of the Steel Saints!”
Jewel blinked, then let out a bubbling giggle that hit me square in the chest. Spit bubbles clung to her chin, her tiny fists batting the air triumphantly.
I lowered her close, my voice fierce. “Listen here, tiny human. I don’t do diapers. I don’t do lullabies. But I swear on Sally, if anyone ever hurts you, I will murder them and hide the body where even the FBI can’t find it.”
