Epilogue
AXLE
T he smell hit first—smoke and charred meat, the tang of Kane’s secret dry rub burning itself into the ribs like a brand.
Someone had the music up just enough to keep the quiet from settling, and there was the low hum of voices, clinking bottles, and laughter that rolled through the air the way exhaust curled off hot asphalt.
I had Ashlynn perched sideways across my lap in one of the big chairs near the long picnic tables, her bare feet tucked under her, one arm draped lazily around my neck.
My other hand rested over the curve of her belly, thumb idly stroking the place where our kid liked to push back against me.
Seven months along, and she still had me wrecked every time I looked at her.
Hair loose and cheeks pink from the heat, she was the most beautiful thing in the whole damn yard.
We’d just moved into the new house last week.
A place with enough garage space for my toys, enough light in the studio for hers, and a room already painted for the kid.
She’d picked the color. I’d pretended to argue before caving because the truth was I liked the way her face lit when she got her way.
Her belly was round under the thin cotton of her sundress, and her hands curled around a glass of tea.
She looked good. Better than good. The late Florida sun caught in her hair, and her cheeks were flushed in a way that made me want to drag her home and make her pink everywhere.
But she was also mine and pregnant, which meant every set of eyes that lingered for more than two seconds got a look from me that promised trouble.
“Quit glaring at everyone like you’re about to bite them,” Racer cut in from my left.
I turned to find my brother-in-law holding Archer—nineteen months of trouble with wild dark hair, sharp little laugh, and the kind of boundless energy that made me seriously question how the hell I was going to keep up when ours got here.
He was wearing a tiny Redline Kings T-shirt Emily had thought was hilarious because her husband kept throwing disgusted looks at it.
Kid had my sister’s eyes and Racer’s grin, which meant Emily was already doomed.
Archer had both hands locked around one of those little plastic race cars Nitro had given him earlier, making engine noises with more enthusiasm than accuracy.
“Thought you’d be used to it by now,” I quipped, taking a pull from my beer.
“I’m used to it,” Racer replied, adjusting the squirming kid on his hip. “Doesn’t mean it’s not entertaining to watch everyone else realize you’re only half joking about gutting them.”
“I’m more than half.”
That earned me a laugh and a shake of his head. “Emily said you’d mellow once the kid got here. I told her she was out of her damn mind.”
“Emily’s been out of her damn mind since she married you,” I shot back.
“Not wrong,” Emily sang from behind me.
I didn’t need to turn—I could picture the smirk on her face, the one my sister used when she was about to needle me in front of an audience. She stepped up beside Racer, swiping Archer out of his arms with practiced ease, and looked me over like she was measuring my sins.
“You’re not ready,” Emily said with a smirk, like she’d read my mind.
“Good thing I’m not the one pushing the kid out.” Ashlynn elbowed me in the ribs for that, which only made Emily grin wider.
“But…you look good.” She drew out the last word in a way that made it sound like an accusation. “Domestic, even. Is that a clean shirt? Without grease?”
“It’s a barbecue. Not a rebuild. I can keep a shirt clean for a few hours.”
“Uh-huh,” she drawled, clearly unconvinced. “And how’s Ashlynn holding up? You treating her like a queen or making her put up with your crap?”
Ashlynn opened her mouth, but I cut her off with, “She’s fine.”
A stubborn glint entered her eyes, but I gave her my best puppy dog eyes. I could tell she was debating whether to give my sister more ammunition or save me from the headache. Finally, she just giggled and winked, then mouthed, you owe me .
I was more than fine with that considering how she liked to be paid.
Emily’s expression softened. “You know she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you, right?”
I gave her a look that said she was late to the party. “Every day.”
Racer chuckled. “And here I thought I was the romantic one.”
“You’re not,” Emily and I said at the same time, which made Archer giggle like he knew we’d just roasted his dad.
We got up and drifted toward the food tables, where Drift was manning the grill with a focus that made it seem like he was qualifying for something. Plates of ribs, burgers, and corn were already stacked in foil, and the line was starting to form.
Kane was halfway down the table, nursing a beer, in the middle of talking with Edge when his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, answered, and leaned back in his chair. His voice dropped low, just enough to make the conversation unreadable over the clatter and chatter of the barbecue.
He hung up after a minute, shaking his head with a laugh.
“What?” I asked.
He grinned, all slow and knowing. “That was Nitro.”
Drift raised a brow. “Club business?”
“No.” Kane drew it out, amusement in every syllable. “But I think I’m gonna need to order another vest.”
The table laughed, and I just sat back with a knowing grin between me and Kane. If Nitro had just found himself tangled up with a woman of his own, then things around here were about to get really interesting.
I tightened my arm around Ashlynn’s waist, breathing her in, the noise of the yard fading until all I felt was her warmth against me and the steady beat of her heart. Whatever came next—chaos, calm, or something in between—it’d be perfect, as long as she was in it.