Relief doesn’t crash over me like a wave or knock the air from my lungs. Instead, it soaks in gradually. It’s more like setting down a weight after carrying it for so long I forgot how heavy it was.
When I look back at Kia, her eyes are bright. That alone is enough to steady me.
Outside the courthouse, the noise hits me all at once. Cameras flash as questions get shouted. Microphones are thrust too close as reporters trip over each other, hungry for a reaction. For a story they can spin.
I step forward, angling my body toward Kia. Before I can fully shield her, several large bodies move in around us.
Steele.
Knox.
River.
Jax.
They close ranks, forming a wall of familiar shoulders with their steady presence. When the shouting grows louder, they tighten formation, absorbing the noise.
Steele claps a hand on my shoulder as we continue moving. “Congrats, man. We were all pulling for you.”
For the first time since this fight began, I let myself breathe.
This was never about winning. It was about choosing the kind of man and father I wanted to be. Today isn’t the end of the work. It’s permission to keep doing it the way I see fit.
49
Kia
It’s only when I’m sitting at the table in the back, surrounded by women who have quietly worked their way into my life over the past month, that it hits me how much I needed this.
Rina sits across from me, one hand wrapped around her mug of herbal tea, the other resting casually on her stomach. Lilah leans back in a chair beside her while Callie moves between the counter and the table when there isn’t a customer to take care of. Sloane lounges sideways in her chair, chin propped on her hand, eyes filled with amusement as she watches everything and everyone around her.
It doesn’t make sense that being with them feels so easy. We don’t share years of history. We didn’t grow up together or survive some long, shared past. And yet, these four women have become my people. The ones I turn to when I need strength, reassurance, or simply want to feel less alone.
“So,” Sloane says, breaking the comfortable lull in conversation. “How far along are you now?”
A smile curves my lips. Timelines no longer scare me anymore. “Fourteen weeks.”
Rina nods, glancing down at her own stomach. “Just a little ahead of me.”
Lilah grins. “Looks like we’re starting a trend.”
Callie snorts. “I’m starting to wonder if there’s something in the water.”
I laugh, surprised by how relaxed everything with them feels. There was a time when laughter like this would’ve felt forced, like a performance I had to fake my way through. With them, it isn’t.
It just happens naturally.
Rina reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “How have you been feeling lately? Your morning sickness was so bad.”
“Now that everything is calmer, it’s actually better,” I say. “I don’t know if stress played a role or if it’s just because I’m past the first trimester. Either way, I’m grateful that I’m no longer waking up every morning and puking my guts out.”
“Yeah,” Lilah chirps. “Nothing says welcome to your day like worshipping the porcelain god at seven a.m.”
The table erupts into laughter all over again.
The door opens behind us, and the energy in the bakery shifts as heavy footsteps and familiar male voices fill the cozy space. Laiken walks in first, wearing jeans and a jacket over a sweatshirt. His hair is still damp and his shoulders are relaxed in a way they haven’t been in weeks. River follows close behind, with Steele, Oliver, and Jax on his heels while Knox brings up the rear.
They pause before spotting us tucked into the corner.
