Epilogue
Angel
The hospital settles the way a place like this always does, never fully quiet, just softer around the edges.
Stevie sleeps, finally. Both babies tucked in beside her, their tiny breaths syncing like they planned it.
I stand at the window for a minute longer than I need to, watching the parking lot lights blur into stars, letting the weight of it all sink into my bones.
We made it. That truth sits heavy and sweet in my chest.
I slip out into the corridor to give her space, to give myself a second to breathe without waking her.
The hallway smells like antiseptic and coffee and something metallic I can’t name.
A few brothers linger down the way, voices low, respectful.
Family does that, they know when to be loud and when to stand back.
That’s when I hear raised voices. Not shouting. But close. I turn the corner and see them, Cass, and Kate, standing by a vending machine like it’s the only thing keeping them from tearing into each other.
Kate’s hair is still rainbow-bright under the harsh lights, defiant as hell, her arms crossed tight like armor. Cass stands opposite her, hands fisted at his sides, jaw locked, eyes burning with everything he doesn’t say.
“You don’t get to decide what I tell them,” Kate snaps, voice sharp and shaking. “Not anymore.”
“I’m not trying to control you,” Cass says, low and strained. “I’m trying to protect the club.”
She laughs, brittle. “Funny how that always sounds like it’s about me keeping quiet.”
I clear my throat, not loud, just enough to let them know they’re not alone. They both freeze. Kate turns first, anger flashing then softening when she sees me. Cass exhales like he’s been holding his breath too long.
“Sorry,” Cass mutters. “Didn’t mean….”
“It’s alright,” I say. “This place does that to people.”
Kate looks away, blinking fast. “Congratulations,” she says, quieter now. “They’re beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I reply. “Means a lot.” There’s a beat. A tension in the air that doesn’t belong to this hallway. Not tonight.
Cass shifts his weight. “Angel…”
Whatever he’s about to say dies on his tongue when Kate’s phone buzzes. She glances at the screen, color draining from her face.
“Shit,” she whispers.
Cass notices. Of course he does. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” she says too quickly. “I’ve got to go.”
She brushes past him, past me, moving fast like she’s running from something that’s already caught her. Cass watches her go; pain etched deep into his face.
“That secret of hers?” I ask gently. “It’s bigger than you’re lettin’ on.”
He swallows. “Yeah.”
“Big enough to tear things apart?”
His silence is answer enough. I clap a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever it is, don’t let it rot in the dark. That’s how wars start.”
His mouth tightens. “Might already be too late.”
I watch Kate disappear down the corridor, Cass standing torn between following her and staying put, the fault line between them widening with every second. Some stories don’t start clean. Some begin right where the cracks show.
I head back to Stevie and our babies, the weight of joy pulling me forward but behind me, I know what’s coming. Because love doesn’t just heal. Sometimes it lights the fuse. And Cass?
Cass is standing right at the match.
The End.... For Now!