Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
I nudged open the front door, juggling an iced latte in one hand, black coffee in the other, a sack of burritos, and a small, wrapped gift pinched awkwardly in my elbow. Brisket woofed before barreling toward me, his nails scratching against the hardwood floors.
Even though I’d lived in this house for years, Kenna made it feel like a home with pillows and throw blankets scattered everywhere like she was building a fort, and candles flickering on every surface.
The scent of vanilla lingered in the air, mixing with the familiar smell of woodsmoke and leather.
I deftly avoided tripping over the overzealous dog and dumped the burritos and gift on the counter before I made my way across the room to Kenna.
Her red hair caught the sunlight slanting through the window, shining like dancing flames as she stood in front of a bookcase.
She reached high on her tiptoes to place books on the top shelf.
I smirked as I read the titles. “You really do like true crime,” I observed. “Should I be worried?”
“About what?” she asked innocently.
I raised a brow and handed over her latte. I wiped the dampness on my jeans before catching her chin between my fingers, tipping her head up so she looked into my eyes.
“Sometimes I think you’re the most dangerous one in the room,” I said.
She leaned into my touch and smiled. “I might know how to kill a man twelve different ways, but I know I’ll never need to. Not with you by my side.”
I pressed her gently into the bookshelf and kissed her, grounding myself in her warmth. It would never be enough. I’d regret every lost minute until I met her, but I planned to spend forever making up for it.
“What did you bring me?” she asked as she attempted to peer around me.
I glanced over my shoulder at the box, and nerves fluttered in my chest. “I’ll give it to you later.”
Kenna pouted, pursing her lips in a way that made me want to bite them. “You’re seriously going to make me wait?”
“Fine,” I relented.
I stalked across the room and held the box out to her. She shook it, the thunk echoing through the room.
“Well, it’s not a puppy,” she joked.
“It’s not a chicken or a goat either.”
She grinned. “There’s always next time.” She ripped the hot-pink wrapping paper off the box. “This has Eva written all over it,” she observed.
I nodded and watched her as she slowly separated the leather vest from the sparkly tissue paper. She bit her lip as she held it in front of her, taking in the Mavericks insignia and the bottom rocker that proclaimed “Property of Merrick.”
For a heartbeat, air stalled in my lungs. The silence was killing me. Did she hate it? Did she understand how important this was to me?
Kenna slipped one arm through and then the other. There was a custom patch on the front licked in flames surrounding an embroidered “Wildfire.” She brushed her fingers across it before gazing into my eyes.
“We both know how fast things change. I love you. I want you to be mine in every way possible.”
“So, this means I belong to you?” she asked, challenge in her tone.
I shook my head. “This means every part of me belongs to you. For the rest of our lives.”
“Do I still have the right to vote?” she asked in her sassiest tone.
She yelped as my palm hit the curve of her ass, and I pressed my lips to hers to silence her protest.
“This patch gives you full veto power on me,” I whispered, sliding my hand from the curve of her ass to her hip. “This gives you the right to tell me what you want. Tonight and every night. I’ll give you any damn thing you want, Wildfire.”
“Really?” she drawled as she ran her fingers down my chest slowly. “You sure you’re ready for what I want?”
Before I could answer, my phone rang. Thane’s name blared across the screen—a summon I’d never ignored. I silenced the call and tossed the phone onto the counter.
Kenna blinked, surprised.
“I’m yours, Wildfire. Your home is with me.”
“Speaking of home …” she trailed off.
I pulled back, my brows raised.
“I may have invited some people over tonight for a housewarming party.”
I groaned, feigning exasperation. “I’ve lived here for years. How much time do we have before people start showing up?”
“A couple hours.”
“Good. Now go to our room, take off your clothes, and wait for me. I want to see you ride me wearing nothing but that cut.”
She burst out laughing. “That’s one order I won’t veto.” She turned to head toward our bedroom.
“One more thing,” I said. “Marry me.”
She paused. “I love you. I’m wearing your patch. That’s enough for me for now.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Life’s short, and I’m not getting younger.”
She scoffed. “You’re not old. I watched a TikTok last night that said forty is the new thirty. Let’s settle in. Build our house. And then we can get married.”
Merci arrived first, letting herself in without knocking like always. Brisket lost his goddamn mind, barking and wagging his whole body as she scratched his ears.
She hugged Kenna, pressing a bottle of wine into her hands. “Luca couldn’t make it,” she said. “Another long shift at the hospital.”
Soon enough, our backyard filled with our friends—Eva, Reaper, Thane, Rhetta, and Fuse. Music played as we chatted and ate hot dogs.
Hatchet was late, as usual. When he finally showed up, I caught the scent of something sweet—expensive perfume, from what I could tell. He had that smug, just-got-laid look, and I rolled my eyes. “Took you long enough,” I muttered.
He grinned, slapping me on the back. “Had an early date. Knew there weren’t going to be any single chicks here tonight.”
“Hatchet, you ever show up on time for anything?” Fuse called out.
“Only for funerals and court dates, brother,” he said as he beelined for the cooler. Hatchet grabbed a beer and then sauntered over to Merci, who sat perched on a lawn chair.
He flashed her his charming grin. “So, you planning to patch me up tonight? Or are you off duty?”
Merci smirked, swirling her wine. “I’m definitely off duty. So try not to get yourself shot, stabbed, or otherwise maimed.”
Hatchet chuckled, leaning in a little closer. “But I like it when you play doctor with me.”
Merci rolled her eyes. “I might just let you bleed out next time so you’ll shut up.”
I narrowed my eyes, watching him. Hatchet knew damn well Merci was engaged, but that never stopped him from turning on the charm. He was harmless, mostly, but I still didn’t like it. Not when it came to my sister.
“Relax. I don’t think Hatchet knows how to have a conversation with a woman without flirting.”
I grunted, not taking my eyes off him. “He’s doing it to push my buttons.”
She squeezed my hand. “Yeah, that’s half the fun for him. At least he’s toned it down around me.”
I huffed. Only because I’d threatened to smash his face in. I glanced down at Kenna, the firelight catching the mischief in her eyes. She was right, of course. Hatchet lived to get a rise out of me.
Hatchet caught my glare and grinned wider, raising his beer in a mock toast.
We sat in a loose circle around the bonfire. The flames flickered and popped, casting long shadows across the faces of my family. Kenna sat beside me, her bare feet propped on my lap. I pressed my thumb into her arch, finding the spot that made her melt.
Kenna tossed an empty beer can at Hatchet. “So, what’s the story behind the nickname? Did you chop down a tree or something?”
Hatchet smirked. “It’s a road name, not a nickname. And no, I didn’t chop down a tree.” He took a slow sip, clearly enjoying keeping her in the dark.
Kenna rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. You’re not going to tell me?”
“Maybe someday,” Hatchet teased. “When you’ve earned it.”
She laughed, then turned to me, curiosity bright in her eyes. “Why don’t you use a road name like some of the other guys?”
The question caught me off guard, but not in a bad way. I’d laid that part of my past to rest long ago, but with Kenna, it didn’t feel like an open wound anymore. “I had one, but I buried it with Rose.”
She pulled back to look into my eyes, her expression softening. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”
“Don’t apologize,” I said, my voice steady. “When we crashed, my cut was shredded. I buried Rose in hers. I went nomad for a while without one, and when I came back, I was just Merrick.”
“What was your road name back then?” she asked, her voice quiet.
“Bowie.”
“Like David Bowie?” she said, eyebrows raised.
Reaper and Thane chuckled.
I shook my head. “Like a Bowie knife.”
Kenna bit her lip, her eyes searching mine.
She was smart enough to figure out why a biker like me, the sergeant-at-arms, would’ve been called Bowie.
She didn’t push, but I could see the questions in her eyes.
I didn’t mind. She deserved to know who I was, even the parts I didn’t talk about. I’d tell her if she asked.
Then she surprised me again. “What about Damascus?” she asked.
“Damascus?”
Kenna nodded. “Yeah. Damascus steel is strong. Resilient. Forged in fire. It’s the perfect road name for you. You’ve been through hell, but you’re still standing. You’re sharp when you need to be, but you’re also … layered. Complex. Like a Damascus blade.”
Fuse leaned forward, nodding. “Damn, Kenna. That’s good. Fits better than Bowie ever did.”
I stared into the fire, letting the name settle over me. Damascus. It felt right. More than that, it felt like a new beginning—like maybe I wasn’t just the man who’d buried his past, but someone who could be forged anew.
I glanced at Kenna, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Damascus, huh? Do I need to order you a new patch? Property of Damascus?”
She smiled back, her eyes bright in the firelight. “No, you’ll always be just Merrick to me.”
The group fell quiet, the fire crackling between us. I felt the weight of my past lift, replaced by something new—something forged in fire but tempered by love.