Chapter 17 Emma
EMMA
“You ready for this?” Bones asks, his hands resting on the wheelchair handles behind me.
I look up at the Stoneheart MC clubhouse, which is absolutely covered in Christmas lights despite it being July.
There’s an inflatable Santa out front that’s slightly deflated, giving it a drunk, wobbly appearance.
Garland is wrapped around the porch railings and someone has hung oversized ornaments from the eaves.
It’s completely ridiculous.
I love it.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I say, smoothing down my sundress.
It’s one of the few things that fits over the massive boot on my right leg.
Five days post-surgery and I’m still trying to wrap my head around the six weeks of recovery ahead of me.
I’m in this chair for at least a week—maybe longer depending on how healing goes—but then I can at least get around on crutches.
As someone who’s used to living and dying by control, it’s humbling as hell to be at the mercy of your own body.
But I’m learning to let go a little. Or at least to look good doing it.
“They’re excited to see you,” Bones says, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of my head. “Half the club has been asking when you’d be healed enough to come out.”
“I’m on so many painkillers I might not remember any of this.”
“Then I’ll remind you tomorrow.” He wheels me toward the entrance. “And probably show you embarrassing photos.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I absolutely would.”
The door swings open before we reach it and Kya appears, dressed in a Santa hat and a tank top that says ‘Sleigh All Day.’
“She’s here!” Kya yells back into the clubhouse. “Emma’s here!”
“Oh god,” I mutter as what sounds like half of Stoneheart cheers from inside.
“Too late to run,” Bones says, amused. “Well. Roll. Too late to roll away.”
Kya holds the door as Bones navigates the wheelchair through.
Inside is chaos—the good kind. The entire main room has been transformed into a winter wonderland, complete with a massive Christmas tree in the corner, the traditional biker-themed nativity scene where the pool table normally is, and tinsel everywhere.
“Surprise!” everyone yells, and I actually jump in the chair.
“What is all this?” I ask, looking around at the decorations, the people, the sheer absurdity of Christmas in July.
“You missed Christmas,” Lee says, appearing with a beer in hand and a matching Santa hat. “So we’re doing it again.”
“We voted,” Kya adds. “It was unanimous. Well, almost. Stone said it was stupid but Josie happened to be there and said it was sweet, so he changed his vote.”
I glance around and spot Dad near the kitchen area with Josie, both of them trying to look like they’re not standing particularly close together. Josie catches my eye and waves, and I can’t help but smile.
Bones wheels me further into the room and immediately we’re swarmed. Mercy appears with a plate of cookies shaped like snowflakes, Cash right behind her with a bottle of water for me.
“Pain meds and alcohol don’t mix,” Cash says, handing it over. “But you can have all the cookies you want.”
“These are amazing,” I say, taking one. “Did you make these, Mercy?”
“Hell no. Maggie did. I just decorated them.” She holds up her own cookie which is supposed to be a snowflake but looks more like a demented spider. “I’m not artistic.”
“It’s perfect,” I lie, and she laughs.
Ginger and Tank approach next, Ginger immediately crouching down to examine my surgical boot.
“Does it hurt?” she asks.
“Only when I blink.”
“I broke my ankle when I was sixteen,” Ginger says. “Worst three months of my life.”
“Three months?” My stomach drops. “The doctor said six weeks and I should be on my feet again.”
“Oh, honey.” Ginger pats my hand. “That’s optimistic. But maybe you’ll heal faster than I did. I was also incredibly stupid and kept trying to walk on it.”
“Don’t scare her,” Tank says, pulling Ginger up and away. “Sorry. She has no filter.”
“I have a filter! I’m just honest.”
They bicker their way across the room and I look up at Bones. “Six weeks is optimistic?”
“We’ll deal with whatever timeline you need,” he says firmly. “One day at a time.”
Before I can spiral too much, Poppy appears with a baby on her hip. I was supposed to meet baby Rose the last time I was here—and Poppy for that matter—but circumstances got in the way. So this is our first face-to-face.
Poppy’s got this easy, instant warmth, like she’s been waiting all afternoon just to meet me, but also the slight chaos of someone only loosely in control of their own body—her blonde hair is already escaping its clip and the baby’s sock is halfway off.
She beams at me, brown eyes so wide and sincere it feels disarming.
“You must be Emma,” she says, shifting Rose higher on her hip.
“And you’re Poppy,” I say, sticking my hand out on autopilot.
“I recognize you from . . .” I almost say from the stories but catch myself.
“From photos. Bones used to catch me up on all the Stoneheart goings-on whenever he’d come to New York.
” I look to the wriggly baby on her hip.
“And this must be Rose. Wriggly Rose, hey?” I reach up and give her a little tickle on her foot and she gives one of those belly laughs that only babies can produce—pure joy.
Poppy laughs. “She’s not even being as wriggly as she gets. But you, oh my god, I’m so glad you’re OK. Well, not OK-OK, but you know. Here. Alive. Healing.”
“Thanks, Poppy.”
Rose reaches for me, making grabby hands, and Poppy laughs. “She’s obsessed with new people right now. Want to hold her?”
“Can I?” I look at Bones to see if he thinks it’s a good idea, and he immediately nods.
Poppy settles Rose in my lap, and the baby immediately starts exploring my face with her tiny hands. She’s got Poppy’s smile and when she grins at me, all gums and joy, something in my chest loosens.
“She likes you,” Poppy says. “That’s good. She screamed for twenty minutes after Duck held her yesterday.”
“That’s because Duck tried to give her a pickle,” Axel says, appearing behind Poppy. He’s got that exhausted-but-happy look all new parents have. “Who gives a ten-month-old a pickle?”
“Duck, apparently,” Poppy says. “He said babies need to build character.”
I laugh, and Rose laughs too, delighted by the sound. Her little hands grab at my hair and I let her, not caring that she’s probably going to destroy the braid Bones painstakingly did for me this morning. He’s been an amazing caregiver.
Next is Andi, another person I only know from her photos.
She has all three of her kids in tow. The twins seem around three, and they immediately spot the Christmas tree and make a beeline for it.
The little boy, who’s about two, chases after them with the kind of determination only little brothers have.
“Don’t touch the ornaments!” Andi calls after them, then sighs. “They’re absolutely going to touch the ornaments.”
“I’ll watch them,” Steel says, appearing out of nowhere like the world’s most tattooed babysitter. He’s the club’s prospect—young, eager, and apparently everyone’s favorite person. “Come on, gremlins. Let’s see if we can find Santa.”
“It’s too hot for Santa,” one of the twins says.
“You sure about that?” Steel says very seriously. “Cause I thought I saw him hanging around outside.”
The twins look skeptical but follow him anyway, Adam wandering behind. Steel shoots me a grin before herding the kids away.
“That man is a saint,” Andi says, collapsing into the chair next to me. “Also, hello, I’m Andi, Hawk’s old lady. And you look amazing for someone who just had surgery.”
“I look like I haven’t slept in days and I’m high on painkillers.”
“Like I said. Amazing.” Andi reaches over to tickle Rose’s foot. “How are you feeling? Really?”
I glance up at Bones, who’s been standing behind my chair this whole time like a guard dog. He meets my eyes and I see the question there—should I give you space?
I shake my head slightly. Stay.
“Honestly?” I say, looking back at Andi. “I’m terrified. The doctor says I might never dance again. And even though I’d already decided to retire, I never wanted to quit altogether. I don’t remember life before dancing.”
The words come out easier than I expected. Maybe because Andi’s a stranger—she didn’t know me as Emma the ballerina. She’s just meeting Emma, whoever that turns out to be.
Andi nods, her expression much softer than her tattoos and biceps would suggest.
“You probably don’t. But even if—” She shrugs.
“People find new things to be. Sometimes it’s even weirder and better than you expect.
” She glances over to where her kids are harassing Steel and yelling something about fairy floss.
“When my sister dumped her kids on me, I honestly thought my life was over. But then I met Hawk and we became our own little family. And now I can’t imagine my life any other way.
” She glances back to where Rose is wriggling on my lap.
“Point is, I had all of these dreams, this life I imagined for myself. And when everything flipped on its head, I found new dreams. You will too.”
Andi’s words stick in my head, wedge themselves between my ribs. I don’t know whether the ache is hope or despair. Maybe both.
“Thanks, Andi. That helps.”
She gives me a soft smile. “Not that you wanted to hear all that tonight. Tonight you get to be sad and eat all the weird cookies Mercy decorated. Tomorrow—or even six weeks’ time—is for new plans.”
“Oh god. Don’t remind me how long I’m stuck in this thing,” I groan, pointing at my boot.
Poppy raises a mock toast with her own bottle of water. “To weird cookies and doing nothing.”
“To weird cookies,” I echo, and Rose slams a chubby palm into my bottle, as if in solidarity.
“Wait. What are we toasting to?” Kya asks, appearing with a mug in her hand. “Because I want to toast too. Today is about celebrating you being home. And also Christmas. But mostly you.”
Poppy takes Rose so Kya can hand me the mug, and it’s filled with hot cocoa—complete with marshmallows and whipped cream—and I take a sip. It’s perfect, warm and sweet, and suddenly I’m fighting tears.
“Are you crying?” Kya asks, alarmed.
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” I wipe at my eyes. “I just—you guys did all this for me?”
“Obviously,” Mercy says, joining our little cluster. “You’re family.”
“But I’ve been gone for years—”
“Doesn’t matter,” Ginger says firmly. “You’re Stone’s daughter. Bones’s girl. That makes you ours.”
I look around at all of them, at these women who’ve built lives here, who’ve found their place in this world that I ran away from. Who are welcoming me back like I never left.
“Thank you,” I manage. “Really. Thank you.”
“OK, enough crying,” Kya announces. “This is a party. Crying is not allowed. Steel! Put on some Christmas music!”
“It’s July!” someone yells from across the room.
“I SAID CHRISTMAS MUSIC!”
Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want For Christmas’ starts blasting through the speakers and suddenly everyone’s laughing.
The twins, Abby and Amy, abandon Steel to run around singing at the top of their lungs.
Their little brother, Adam, trips over his own feet and lands on his butt, looking stunned for a moment before dissolving into giggles.
Bones leans down, his mouth close to my ear. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I say, meaning it. “I’m really good.”
He kisses my temple and I lean back into him, watching the chaos unfold around us.
Duck is teaching the twins some kind of dance move that looks like a cross between the robot and a seizure.
Maggie is trying to get Adam to eat a cookie but he’s more interested in smashing it into his face.
Hawk has joined Steel near the tree, both of them trying to prevent ornaments from being destroyed.
This is my family now. These people, this place, this beautifully chaotic life.