Chapter Twenty-Two
NITRO
The Next Day
The clubhouse pulses with eighties rock energy. Def Leppard blares from the speakers, and everywhere I look, there’s leather, spandex, and costume chaos that somehow works.
I catch my reflection behind the bar. Guns N’ Roses tee. Torn jeans, sleeveless denim vest, enough jewelry to make Slash proud. On my massive frame, it’s absurd. But for Marley’s thirtieth birthday, I’ll wear anything.
“Brother, you look ridiculous,” Sin says, grinning in his Bon Jovi costume, tight leather pants, headband, sleeveless shirt showing his ink.
Victoria appears beside him as Joan Jett. Black leather, smudged eyeliner, teased hair. She’s absolutely perfect. “Says the guy wearing a blond wig that looks like a bird’s nest.”
Sin grins with a shrug. “It’s cool, babe. I’m “Livin’ on a Prayer”.”
Victoria snorts out a laugh as I glance around the clubhouse. It’s completely transformed, records hanging from the ceiling, neon lights pulsing, a photo booth stuffed with props. Beck orchestrated everything with surgical precision, just like I knew he would.
Ro stands near the stage while Slash tunes her guitar. We’ve practiced for days, a rock version of Marley’s favorites that works with flute accompaniment.
“Nervous?” Ghost appears with a beer, dressed in some amalgamation of eighties leather.
“About playing? No.” I take the beer. “About everything else? Yeah.”
He studies me. “You’re claiming her tonight.” It’s not a question. He already knows the answer.
“Yeah.” The word feels heavy. “Making it official.”
The weight of what I’m not telling her sits like lead in my gut. Damon Blackwell. The name I’ve kept hidden from her for weeks now. The fact that I’m the one who hired her, who created that position at Blackwell Entertainment Group specifically for her.
I should tell her tonight.
Before I claim her.
But the thought of losing her, of watching her walk away because I’ve been lying by omission this entire time, makes my chest constrict in a goddamn painful way.
I’m a coward.
A selfish fucking coward who’s about to trap her into being mine before she knows the whole truth.
But maybe if she’s my Old Lady first, and if the club, her family, and everyone who matters have already witnessed us becoming official, she won’t leave. Maybe the weight of that commitment will keep her with me long enough to forgive me.
I hope.
Christ, I hope.
Movement at the entrance draws my attention. Sage and Beck arrive with Marley between them. She’s in jeans and a vintage tee, looking confused as they steer her toward the back rooms.
“What on earth is happening in here?” she asks, laughing as she gawks at the transformed clubhouse.
“Trust us,” Sage urges.
I watch them disappear.
Sin claps my shoulder.
“They’re getting her into costume. Beck picked it himself,” Victoria says.
“Should I be worried?” I raise my brow.
“Only if you have a weak heart.” She smirks. “You’re going to lose your damn mind.”
Ten minutes feel like hours. I pace, adjusting my bandana, checking the small box in my cut pocket—the gift I’ve been holding for weeks.
Tonight, I’m claiming her officially. In front of everyone. Making her a real part of the club.
Before I tell her the truth that could destroy us.
The guilt gnaws at me, sharp-toothed and relentless. She deserves better than this. She deserves honesty. But I’m too fucking terrified of losing her to give it to her. Not yet. Not until she’s mine in a way that’s harder to walk away from.
The music shifts to Fleetwood Mac, and Marley emerges from the hallway.
She’s dressed as Stevie Nicks. Flowing cream layers that move like water, bell sleeves, and a neckline that shows just enough skin to make my mouth go dry. Her red hair cascades in wild waves with tiny gold ribbons woven through. Platform boots add inches, but she still barely reaches my chest.
Ethereal.
Beautiful.
Mine.
Her eyes find me, and her smile is the sun breaking through clouds. “Nitro,” she breathes out, reaching me. “You look—”
“Like an idiot,” I finish. “But you look like every fantasy I’ve ever had.”
She spins, the dress fanning around her. “Beck said I should be Stevie Nicks. I’ve always wanted to dress like her.”
“He chose well.” I catch her hand, pulling her close. “Happy birthday, Small Town.”
“This is incredible.” Her eyes sweep the room, the decorations, the costumes, all the people who showed up. “I can’t believe you did all this.”
“Beck and Sage helped. So did the club.” I wrap an arm around her waist. “But I wanted tonight to be perfect.”
She rises on her toes and kisses my jaw. “It already is.”
Before I can respond, I hear Queenie’s voice cutting through the music. “Well, are you going to introduce me to this beautiful girl, or are you just going to hog her all damn night?”
I turn to see Ro escorting Queenie closer, and my heart does something complicated in my chest because the two most important women in my life are about to meet for the first time.
Marley’s eyes widen as she takes in my grandmother, dressed in a vintage bell-bottom pantsuit with a paisley scarf around her neck, looking as if she stepped straight out of a seventies Woodstock documentary.
“Queenie,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend. “This is Marley. Marley, this is my grandmother, the woman who raised me.”
Marley’s hand flies to her chest, and I watch her eyes fill with tears. “Oh my God, I’ve been wanting to meet you for so long.”
“Have you now?” Queenie’s sharp eyes assess Marley, but there’s warmth there. Approval. “Come here, honey. Let me get a good look at you.”
Marley steps closer, lowering herself just a little so she’s not towering over Queenie, her hands gentle as she reaches for hers. It’s instinctive, respectful, and I fall even more in love with my woman for it.
“You’re the one who’s stolen my grandson’s heart,” Queenie says, reaching out to touch Marley’s face. “He talks about you constantly. ‘Marley this, Marley that.’ Thought I’d never hear the end of it.”
“Jesus, Queenie,” I mutter, but she waves me off.
“Hush, boy. I’m talking.” She studies Marley’s face, her expression softening. “You’re even prettier than he said. And he went on and on about your red hair and those curves.”
Marley blushes, glancing back at me with a smile that makes my chest ache. “He talks about you too. About how you worked three jobs to raise him. How you sacrificed everything for him.”
Queenie’s eyes glisten. “He told you that?”
“He tells me everything,” Marley says softly, and the words are a knife to my gut because she doesn’t know… everything.
“Good,” Queenie says firmly. “Because this one here, he’s worth knowing everything about. He’s a good man, Marley. The best man I know. And if he’s chosen you, then you must be something special.”
“I think he’s pretty special too,” Marley whispers, and when she looks back at me, the love in her eyes nearly brings me to my knees.
Queenie reaches for Marley’s hand, squeezing it. “You take care of him, you hear? And he’ll take care of you. That’s what love is. Taking care of each other, even when it’s hard.”
“I will,” Marley promises. “I love him so much.”
“I can see that, child.” Queenie pats her hand, then gestures for her to shoo. “Now go on. Dance with him. Enjoy your birthday. And Nitro?”
I step closer. “Yeah, Queenie?”
“Don’t be an idiot. That one’s a keeper.” She points at Marley with an arthritic, gnarled finger. “You hold onto her tight, you hear me?”
“I hear you,” I say, my throat tight.
As Ro escorts Queenie back toward the festivities, Marley turns to me with the brightest smile on her face. “She’s wonderful. God, Nitro, she’s exactly how I imagined her.”
“Queenie loves you already,” I tell her, pulling her close. “Just like I knew she would.”
“I was so nervous about meeting her,” Marley admits, pressing her face against my chest.
“You had nothing to be nervous about, Small Town. You’re perfect.”
She looks up at me, and the trust in her eyes makes the guilt surge back, stronger than before. She trusts me completely. Believes I’ve told her everything.
And I’m about to claim her without giving her the whole truth.
I’m the worst kind of bastard.
But I can’t lose her.
I won’t.
The next hour blurs with music and laughter.
Marley’s eldest brother, Callum, and his wife, Tessa, arrive with their kids, Lola and Finn, in miniature rock star costumes.
Lola is Cyndi Lauper, topped with a neon skirt, wild hair, and mismatched accessories.
Finn wears an oversized leather jacket and sliding sunglasses.
“Auntie Marley!” Lola launches at Marley’s legs.
Marley scoops her up, spinning her. “Look at you. You’re so cool!”
“You’re cooler,” Lola declares seriously. “You look like a princess.”
I watch Marley with the kids, and something warm settles in my chest. The image of her holding our own kid someday flashes so vividly it steals my breath.
I’m not just in love with her.
I’m ready for everything. Marriage, kids, the whole life I never thought I’d want.
If she doesn’t leave me when she finds out the truth. The thought is a cold splash of reality.
I could have all of this, Marley, a family, a future, or I could lose it all because I was too chicken shit to be honest with her from the beginning.
I should tell her tonight. Right now. Before I make this official.
But I don’t.
Because I’m selfish.
Because I can’t.
Because the thought of her looking at me with betrayal instead of love makes me want to set the world on fire.
“You’re staring,” Beck appears beside me, smirking. “Intensely.”
“Shut up.”
“You guys are so cute it makes my skin itch.”
I snort out a laugh, shaking my head at Marley’s brother. “You’re weird, but you know that?”
He grins, placing his hand on his chest. “Oh wow, thank you, that’s so nice of you to say, big man.” Beck studies me for a moment, his expression turning serious. “You okay, Nitro? You look as if you’re carrying something heavy.”
“I’m good,” I lie. “Just want tonight to be perfect.”