Page 43 of Reckless

Chief Maria Moretti.

I’ve met her exactly once, briefly enough that I doubt she’d remember my name, but I’ve heard enough over the last few months to understand what today means.

Victoria gave birth on the clubhouse floor a little over a month ago.

Today, Maria meets her grandson.

Even Deek seems to have picked up that this isn’t a day for testing everyone’s patience, which probably won’t last.

Marley has her laptop open beside me, supposedly working through seating plans for the wedding. She has spent the last five minutes moving the same two names between tables, so I don’t think much planning is actually happening.

Ro found reasons to reorganize the kitchen three separate times.

Nitro is nursing a beer that’s long since gone warm, watching the front windows now and then like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it.

The whole clubhouse feels as if it’s marking time.

Victoria is now perched in the big armchair near the window with Marcus against her chest, one hand curved around his head, her other under his bum, and she keeps looking at the door with an expression I can’t quite place. She isn’t anxious, but something quieter and more complicated than that lingers.

I sit at the end of the sofa with my coffee wrapped in both hands, pretending I’m not noticing every little thing.

The front door swings open.

Conversation doesn’t stop so much as fade around the edges.

Sin is already moving before Maria steps over the threshold.

I’ve only met her in passing, every conversation cut short by somewhere she needed to be or someone who needed her attention. Today she is just… a grandmother, dressed in dark jeans and a gray shirt, with her hair loose around her shoulders instead of pulled back tight. She’s holding a small parcel wrapped in brown paper, both hands around it like it’s something fragile.

Not expensive.

Not flashy.

But definitely carefully chosen.

Something about that gets me.

She and Sin stand in the doorway and look at each other, while the whole room seems to hold its breath.

I’ve been around Sin long enough to recognize the version of him that says the least. He stands just inside the doorway, hands loose by his sides, expression steady enough that most people would probably call it calm. They’d be wrong. There’s a tightness around his mouth that wasn’t there five minutes ago, and he hasn’t taken his eyes off his mother since she walked through the door. Whatever’s running through his head, he’s keeping it locked down so tightly it almost hurts to watch. I look away before it starts feeling like I’m intruding.

Maria speaks first. Her voice is low, not quite steady. “He’s beautiful, Sin.” She stops and swallows. “He looks like—”

“I know.” Sin interrupts quietly, giving away almost nothing.

Almost.

His eyes soften for a heartbeat before he steps aside to let Maria in. She pauses in the doorway, taking in the clubhouse with one slow look. It’s quick but thorough, the sort of glance that tells me she’s already noticed more than most people would. The little parcel in her hands crinkles beneath her grip, and suddenly nothing else in the room seems to exist.

Victoria lets the silence sit between them. She studies Maria for a second, Marcus tucked safely against her chest, her thumb absently brushing over his tiny back.

Whatever she needed to see, she sees it.

Her shoulders ease, and a small smile touches her lips. It’s the first one that’s reached her eyes since she walked through the door.

Maria’s fingers tighten around the little parcel for the briefest second before she hands it over to Sin.

“It’s nothing much, just some clothes and a blanket that you had when you were a baby.”