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Lou turns in her seat, and her long blonde hair whips across my face, a soft brush that almost makes me forget the knot in my chest.

“Listen, Dally,” she says, voice gentle but firm, “they’re going to love you. Don’t be nervous—just be you.”

I catch his slight nod in the rearview mirror. His eyes lock on mine for a moment, and I shoot him a quick wink—a promise, a lifeline.

“Besides,” Lou adds with that sly smile, “you’re about to meet the baddest mofo I know. You could at least look a little excited.”

“What are his sons’ names again?” he asks, voice barely above a murmur.

“Charlie and Sebastian, but he goes by Bash.”

Lou smiles again, this time softer, like she’s trying to smooth the edges of his worry. “Don’t stress about them, D. They’re good kids. I’m sure they’ll like you.”

He nods, slow and careful, filing it all away like it’s another rulebook he’s got to memorize. “Got it.”

Lou fiddles with the radio, the car settling into a quiet rhythm. Then his voice breaks through, small and hesitant.

“Is there a certain way you want me to act when we get there?”

I glance back through the mirror, shifting in my seat. “Act? What do you mean?”

He shrugs, eyes cast down at his hands. “Like…do you want me to be quiet? Not talk too much? Do you want me to call you Mom and Dad or something?”

Those aren’t questions a kid comes up with on his own. They’re rules he’s been handed—maybe gently, maybe not. Be quiet. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Say the words they want to hear, even if they don’t feel right in your mouth.

How fucking sad is that?

That somewhere along the way, someone made him believe he had to earn a place in a family by pretending to belong. It makes my hands tighten on the wheel. Not in anger at him—but at whoever made him feel like love was conditional.

Lou spins around before I can even open my mouth. Her voice is steady, no room for doubt. “No. You never have to pretend with us, Dallas. Not tonight. Not ever. We want you to be—exactly as you are. That’s all we expect. Understand?”

His eyes flicker between us, the tension loosening in his shoulders like a dam starting to crack.

“Yeah, Louis,” he says softly, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “I got you.”

Those three words—heavier than they should be, like trust just planting a fragile seed.

We pull up to Maddox’s house, and I take a breath—sharp and shaky—as we pile out. The nerves knot in my gut, but I don’t know why.

Evie’s there on the porch, glowing with that pregnant light, nine months heavy but smiling like the sun itself. I kiss her cheek and rub her belly, voice warm. “Any day now, Mama. You ready?”

“Hell no we aren’t ready, and keep your lips off my wife,” Maddox storms behind her. Evie just rolls her eyes, unphased at his gruffness.

Lou slides between them, looping her arm around Maddox’s waist, shooting Dallas a wide grin.

“Dally, as promised—meet Maddox Wilder. The baddest motherfucker I know.”

Dallas draws in a breath like he’s bracing for impact, then sticks his hand out. “Nice to meet you. I’m Dallas.”

Maddox looks down at him, adjusting his glasses with quiet ease. He doesn’t hesitate—just reaches out and shakes his hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Glad you’re here, Dallas. Come on in.”

And I swear, right then, I see something settle in the kid.

Not fear. Not suspicion.

Something softer.