Page 30 of Judge’s Redemption

Shay stands in the doorway without speaking.

“I didn't know what she liked,” I say. “Yellow seemed safe.”

“She likes yellow.”

Relief catches me off guard. Shay walks into the room and touches the edge of the quilt. “You did all this in three weeks?”

“Tank painted. Cash found the bed. Gray said the fence needed fixing before a kid came near it.”

Her mouth trembles. I stay by the door. “The rest of the house is empty because I don't know what you want.”

She turns. “This isn't only for Evie is it.”

“I hoped not.” I step into the room.

“I want her here. I want her waking me too early and leaving crayons where I step on them. I want to know what color cake she asks for when she turns five.” Shay's eyes shine.

“And I want you. Not because you're her mother or because I'm trying to rebuild some picture of what I lost. I want your clothes in my room, your shampoo in the shower. I want you arguing with me in the kitchen and climbing into my bed still mad enough to bite.”

Color rises into her face, but she doesn't look away. “I bought this for us. I want all of it.”

Shay looks past me toward the hall. “You can't promise the club will never bring danger to our door again though.”

“No.” The answer matters too much to soften. “I can promise you won't hear about it after I've already decided what happens to you. I can promise the truth, even when I know you'll hate it. And I can promise every man in Kingdom Come will stand between that danger and this house.”

“What if I disagree with you?”

“You probably will. So we’ll fight about it until we reach an answer we can both live with. I don't send you away because I think my fear matters more than your voice.” The old version of me would've told her what was safest, found the right lie, and forced the outcome while calling it love.

“But this time, I'm asking.”

Silence fills the little yellow room. Shay looks at the bed, the empty shelves, and the man standing in front of her without a decision already made. “What happens if I say no?”

“It'll hurt like hell.”

“And?”

“You and Evie still get my protection. I still show up. I still become her father at whatever pace you decide is right.”

Shay closes the distance between us. “I'm not promising I'll forget what you did.”

“I don't want you to.”

“And choosing you doesn't mean I disappear into your club. I keep the salon. I make decisions about Evie with you, not beneath you. If I think you're shutting me out again, I say it, and you listen before you start issuing orders.”

“I'll listen.”

“You might hate what I say.”

“I usually do when you're right.” That draws a shaky laugh from her.

“I'm not moving tomorrow,” she adds.

“All right.”

She slides both hands beneath my cut and looks up at me. “But I'm choosing you.” The words hit deeper than any declaration I could've demanded.

I grip her waist. “Say it again.”