Epilogue #2
“Neither did we,” Fuse hollered.
Laughter rippled through the small crowd. “I found my match. But tonight ain’t just about us. It’s about love, family, second chances, and the people you’d lay down your life for. Like Kenna and Merrick. Who, by the way, are going to get hitched right now.”
The backyard erupted in cheers.
Less than five minutes later, Everest walked Kenna down the aisle. Hatchet stood beside me, and Eva stood in as Kenna’s maid of honor. Merci and Reaper each cradled a sleeping newborn in their arms, smiles wide on their faces.
Thane officiated our wedding before our family and friends, and they cheered as we sealed our improvised vows with a kiss.
Hatchet lifted his beer. “So, here’s to the Mavericks. The family we’ve found and the friends we’ve lost. Here’s to all of you who are there for us even when the roads get rough.”
“Or when one of you crashes,” Merci added with a laugh.
“Yes, to those who lift us up when we crash. Literally. I’m going to try not to do that again. I promise. So, here’s to love and family.”
The toasts echoed as I leaned down to kiss my wife, claiming her in front of our family and sealing my promise to love and protect her.
The scent of rich coffee and spice filled the bedroom, stirring my senses from a deep, dreamless sleep. Warm sunlight fanned across my bare shoulders wrapped in the tangled sheets. Heavy boot steps echoed down the hallway, followed by the clicking of Brisket’s nails on the wood floors.
“Wake up, Mrs. Morris,” Merrick said, his deep voice making my pulse rise before I even opened my eyes. “I have a surprise for you.”
In the week since our impromptu wedding, Merrick had woken me with a latte and a new surprise every morning.
So far, he’d given me breakfast in bed, a new leather jacket, an enormous bouquet of flowers, and a ruby necklace.
I insisted it was unnecessary. I didn’t need gifts to feel cherished.
Merrick made me feel that way every second just being himself.
I groaned and buried my face deeper into the pillow, refusing to give in just yet. Something thudded softly on the mattress beside me. Moments later, a soft muzzle sniffed my hair and a warm, rough tongue licked my ear.
“What the fuck?” I shrieked, rolling over just in time to see a small, wriggling furball launching for my face again.
Merrick scooped up the puppy into his arms. “Sorry.” He chuckled. “I didn’t expect her to attack you like that.”
I sat up and stared, barely processing. “Hold up—did you … get us a puppy?”
He cradled the fluffy bundle against his chest, one big palm easily holding her squirming body still. “Remember the puppy you kept showing me on Instagram last week? The one Maisie found behind the bakery? No one claimed her. She’s yours now. Ours.”
Merrick set the puppy back onto the bed ,and she bounded into my lap. I ran my hands through her light tan and black fur. Her tail whipped against the mattress as she snapped her tiny jaws at my chin.
“The vet thinks she’s a purebred Malinois,” Merrick added.
“What should we name her?”
“That’s up to you, Wildfire,” he said as he petted Brisket, who leaned affectionately against his thighs.
I held the puppy up, gazing into her warm, brown eyes that shone with the promise of mischief. “How about Waffles?”
“Waffles?”
“Yeah, Belgian Waffles.” I snickered at the joke. The puppy yawned in agreement, and I set her back onto the bed.
Merrick shook his head. “Christ, woman. What am I going to do with you?”
“Feed me breakfast?” I asked hopefully as he handed me the latte.
Merrick grinned. “I can do that. Are you nervous? Today’s the big day.”
Waffles bounded to the end of the bed and attempted to dive off the side like a canine Evel Knievel.
Merrick caught her mid-air as she let out a bark of protest. He set her on the floor and leaned in to cage me with his arms. He kissed me, his tender yet possessive touch grounding me.
Brisket approached, tail wagging as Waffles began to nip at his paws.
I took a long sip of the latte, letting the cardamom and cinnamon sweetness coat my tongue. “I’m excited. I can’t believe it’s finally opening.”
We’d worked our asses off to open the Ignite Strength Center.
Today, we would begin to welcome women and girls who deserved safety and hope.
For those who didn’t have a family like the Mavericks to protect them.
And through our partnership with the local women’s shelter, we already had a waiting list of women and girls who were ready to reclaim their power.
“I’m proud of you, Wildfire,” Merrick said warmly. “We all are.”
The entire Mavericks family had rallied around me to make my dream of empowering women in the community a reality. Built within an old firehouse, the Ignite Strength Center offered a full gym, an art studio, and a computer lab.
My phone pinged with a text message.
Eva:
I have every local news channel lined up to cover the ribbon cutting today!
Me:
You’re on maternity leave. Stop working.
Eva:
The twins are asleep. By the way, one of my clients wants to make a donation so you can add more art classes. He wants to know how much for naming rights to the art studio.
Merrick’s mother, Maren, had moved back to the area six months ago and volunteered to teach classes in painting and pottery. But with the cost of supplies, we’d only been able to offer ten spots.
Me:
Wow! I don’t even know what to ask for.
Eva:
How about $500,000 for naming rights to the art studio? And I think I can get him to give another $250,000 to support the other classes you have planned.
Fuse and Coast led the monthly self-defense classes, Hatchet was putting together a workshop on basic auto maintenance, and Linc’s basic computer programming class already had a wait-list.
Me:
That would be great. Thank you for making it happen.
Eva:
Of course! Love you!
I stood, still staring at my phone. “I think Eva just landed us three-quarters of a million,” I told Merrick, my voice a little wobbly with disbelief.
He beamed. “Told you you’re unstoppable. Thane called too—said the Mavericks want to go all in on building the clinic you and Merci dreamed up.”
My brows jumped. “Really?”
It was Merci’s idea to recruit a team of doctors, nurses, and social workers to open an attached medical clinic and counseling center. But we’d nixed the idea when we realized how expensive it would be to stock the required supplies.
Merrick shrugged. “It’s a good investment. The Mavericks would probably use it the most.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, because you guys get hurt when you’re doing nefarious biker shit.” I ran my fingers over the newest scar on his forearm. “You still haven’t told me what you were doing when your arm was fileted open.”
Merrick smirked, covering my hand with his over the scar. “Club business.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Ow.” A litany of colorful swearing followed as Merrick bent over to pick up Waffles. “She bit my ankle.”
I patted the pup on the head. “Good girl. He deserved that, didn’t he?” I cooed.
“Get in the shower. I’ll be back with breakfast in a few.”
I laughed. “I thought you were making me breakfast.”
Merrick shook his head. “Wildfire, you know I can barely scramble an egg. I’ll go grab a few breakfast tacos so you can start out your day on the right foot.”
I kissed Merrick, a spark zinging between us as his hand stroked down my side.
I popped a smooch on Waffle’s snout before leaning down to peck the top of Brisket’s brindle head.
I watched as my husband strode out of the room, a wiggling Waffles in his arms. Brisket trotted behind him with a squeaky toy in his mouth.
The morning sunlight spilled across the room, catching on the framed photos scattered on the dresser. Some new, some old, but all of them proof that love, loyalty, and friendship could burn away the pain of loss.
If anyone had told me that the hole Alec left in my heart could ever be filled—not replaced, but filled and expanded, and by a biker, no less—I’d have laughed.
But love found its way in, burning hot like a wildfire.
And in the ruins left behind, new life bloomed.
The Mavericks weren't just Merrick’s brothers-in-arms—they were my family, too.
I ran a hand through my tangled hair as my heart filled with happiness.
I had a husband who saw every part of me—even the scars and shadows—and loved me all the more for them.
I had friends who’d step between me and a racing bullet.
And I had a purpose, a place to pour all the aching and hope and hard lessons into helping women stand up and reclaim their own power.
Life wasn’t what I’d planned.
It was better.
Even after all the heartbreak, I woke up surrounded by love.
And I’d never take it for granted.