Epilogue
GHOST
Three Months Later
The apartment is quiet. Six in the morning usually is. I measure out the coffee by habit, the grinder loud enough that it’ll wake Sage sooner or later. Two mugs go on the counter before I even think about it.
Three succulents sit in the window where there used to be one. I named the new ones Root and Cache.
She doesn’t know that.
She’ll probably find out eventually.
She usually finds out everything.
The floor creaks under her bare feet before I hear her voice.
She comes in wearing one of my shirts, sleeves pushed up, hair loose and tangled from sleep, and she doesn’t say a word before she takes her cup from the counter and hops up to sit beside the sink, legs swinging slightly, eyes on the window and the gray light easing into gold outside.
I sit at the table and watch her do it, the same as I have most mornings for three months now, and I still haven’t gotten used to how much I need these ten minutes of my day.
I spent years convincing myself that quiet was something I did alone.
Turns out I only had half of it figured out.
My phone buzzes against the table.
Sin: Marcus’ six-month thing today. Church at two, party after. Bring Sage.
I type back a single word…
Me: Yep
And set the phone face down.
“Sin?” Sage asks, not looking away from the window.
“Marcus is six months old today, and you know what Vick is like. She loves a damn milestone.”
She smiles into her cup. “He’s going to run this club by the time he’s five.”
“He’s already running it. That kid has all of us wrapped around his tiny puffy fingers.”
She laughs, the real one, low in her chest, and slides off the counter to stand behind my chair, arms draped over my shoulders, chin resting against the top of my head. I reach up and cover her hand with mine, and neither of us moves for a while.
And this, right here, is the entire reason I get up at six every morning instead of eight. I would build my whole life around ten more minutes of this if she let me.
Her phone lights up on the table next to mine. She reaches past me to check it, and I feel her go still.
“Millie,” she says. “The mine hit its quarterly number early. She wants to know if we’re coming to the bakery first before the clubhouse so she can brag about it in person instead of over text.”
“We’re going.”
“You already knew, didn’t you?”
“I ran the projections three weeks ago.” I don’t tell her I’ve watched Anchor find reasons to be at that mine every single day Millie is scheduled there, because that’s a thing Millie will announce on her own timeline and not a second before, and I respect that about her.
By the time we’re dressed and out the door, the morning has turned properly warm, the kind of Vegas heat that arrives early and sticks around, and we take the bike instead of the truck because Sage asked, and I don’t say no to her about the bike anymore.
At the bakery, Millie is already covered in flour to the elbow, grinning at us over the counter like she’s been waiting all morning to say the number out loud, and when she does, Sage whoops loud enough that a customer near the window jumps.
Millie laughs under her breath, shaking her head as if she still can’t quite believe this is her life.
Piper is waiting at the clubhouse when we arrive, sitting out the front with her laptop balanced on her knees, and she signs at me before I’ve even parked. ‘Your coffee situation here is criminal. I’m fixing it. Don’t argue.’
I don’t argue. She’s been in this city for months, and she’s already got opinions about the clubhouse coffee, the design studio’s lighting, and, more recently, the amount of time a certain brother has taken to spend parked outside her apartment building on a bike that doesn’t need to be there.
I know about Deek.
I haven’t said anything to Sage.
Deek is my brother, and he’s never once, in the years I’ve known him, stayed interested in a woman past three weeks, and he’s been circling Piper for six months now like he’s forgotten how to want anything else.
I’m not getting in the middle of that. When Piper is ready to admit what’s obvious to every single person who isn’t her, I’ll be first in line to buy the drinks, and I hope to God it doesn’t take them as long as it took Sage and me.
Church runs long, the good kind of long, Sin walking the table through mine numbers that would have sounded like a fantasy two years ago.
When we come out, the main room has already filled with the noise, Ro behind the bar, the television in the corner running local news on mute.
I catch the crawl at the bottom of the screen.
State Senator Calloway announces he will not seek re-election, citing health…
Sage sees it, too, and I watch her read it. Something in her shoulders drops half an inch, the kind of release that happens in a body before the mind has caught up to why.
Maria arrives a little after three, dressed in jeans instead of her uniform, carrying a gift bag that looks like it took her far longer to choose than she’d ever admit.
She spots Sin almost immediately.
He crosses the room with Marcus in his arms, and the second Maria looks down at her grandson, the rest of the clubhouse seems to disappear. Her fingertips brush his cheek, then his tiny hand, her eyes searching his little face so carefully it almost hurts to watch.
I don’t know what she’s looking for.
Maybe traces of the son she lost.
Maybe proof that some part of him found its way back.
Whatever she finds eases something inside her.
Her shoulders relax, a smile finally reaching her eyes as Sin says something that makes her laugh softly.
They settle into a quiet corner together with Marcus between them, talking while the rest of the clubhouse carries on around them, and I catch myself watching them longer than I mean to.
Family has a funny way of stitching itself back together.
Maria finds Sage before she leaves, and I’m close enough to hear it. “I’ve been following the Calloway situation,” Maria says. “Comes with the badge whether I want it to or not. I’m glad it landed the way it did.”
“Me, too,” Sage says.
Maria looks as if she’s about to leave it there.
Instead, she pauses, rubbing the back of her neck for a second before meeting Sage’s eyes again.
“If you ever need someone inside the department…” she says quietly.
“For one of your families, or if something isn’t being taken seriously…
” she gives a small shrug, “… call me. I’ll make sure it lands on the right desk. ”
Sage studies her for a moment before a genuine smile spreads across her face. “I’d like that.”
Maria smiles back, gives a small nod, and heads toward the door.
I watch Sage watch her go, and something tells me that won’t be the last time those two cross paths.
Later, as the afternoon light turns everything inside the clubhouse gold, people drift from the Chapel into the main room, conversations overlapping with music and the clink of bottles.
I end up where I usually do, leaning against the wall near the bar, watching the room without really trying to.
Marley is over with Ro and Millie, talking shop while picking at whatever food Piper has shoved under everyone’s nose.
Marley runs one of the departments at Blackwell these days, and she’s damn good at it.
Nitro watches her now and then with this look that says none of it surprises him.
Like he knew she’d knock it out of the park before she ever walked through the front door.
Last week she told us all she’s pregnant.
I don’t think I’ve seen him stop smiling since.
Sage finds me without looking like she’s trying. One minute she’s talking to Marley. The next she’s slipping into the space beside me until her shoulder brushes mine.
I slide my arm around her, and she settles against my side as if she belongs there.
She absolutely does.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks.
I consider the question with the attention it deserves. “The succulent needs more light.”
She stares at me for a second, then she laughs so hard she has to hide her face against my shoulder.
I wrap my arm tighter around her and let her laugh.
She’s still shaking with it a few seconds later when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Sin: Sunday run. 10:00. Don’t be late.
It’s the club group chat.
Half the men receiving it are within throwing distance of him.
That doesn’t stop the replies.
Me: Confirmed.
Nitro: *Thumbs up Emoji*
Koa: Copy.
Mace: Already planned on it.
Bear: I’ll bring donuts.
Hash: Those better be the good ones.
Anchor: Coffee too.
Ricochet: Confirmed.
Flint: I’ll be there.
Warden: See you at ten.
Axle: About damn time.
Deek: If I’m technically here already, does that mean I’m early?
Sin: No!
Deek: I feel like you’re making this unnecessarily difficult.
Me: You’re overthinking it.
Deek: Says the guy with twelve contingency plans for buying milk.
Bear: Go to bed.
Deek: But Daaad.
Without a single one of us looking up from our phones, half the room answers in perfect unison. “Go to bed, Deek,” we all say together at the same time.
Deek finally lifts his head, looking around the clubhouse as though we’ve all betrayed him. “You guys are assholes.”
“Go on, off you go,” Bear repeats, this time out loud.
A chorus of agreement follows from every direction.
Every pair of eyes in the clubhouse lands on him, the women of the club raising their brows in confusion as to why we’re all suddenly sending Deek off to bed at the same time.
Deek looks around like he’s been personally victimized. “You all suck.”
Sin doesn’t even glance up from his screen. “Ten o’clock.”
Deek sighs dramatically. “I just wanted emotional support,” he huffs, places his beer bottle on the bar, then turns and walks off.
We all chuckle as he goes, and Sage settles further into my side. “What on earth was that weird synchronization thing you guys had going on there? Don’t tell me there’s some weird Defiance telepathic link I’m not aware of now.”
I snort out a laugh, holding her tighter. “Group chat,” I simply answer.
She nods, raising her brow. “You guys are all in the same room together, and you’re having a group chat rather than talking to each other?”
I shrug. “We’re lazy. A text is efficient. It gets to everyone rather than having to do the rounds to tell everyone the same thing.”
She snuggles into my side again. “Men… this is why women are the superior race.”
I smile. “I don’t doubt it.” I lean in, pressing a kiss to her temple.
She’s quiet now, watching the room the way she does when she’s memorizing something on purpose.
Piper is arguing cheerfully with Bear about coffee brands while Deek watches her from across the room with an expression he still seems convinced nobody has caught.
She looks over, catches him staring, and smiles.
He smiles back before he remembers himself and looks away.
Nobody else notices.
He catches me looking.
I raise an eyebrow, and he flips me off.
Fair enough.
I used to think I had exactly what I needed in this room—brothers, work, a purpose I could point to.
I still think that. I’ve just learned the arithmetic was incomplete, that there was a version of full I hadn’t accounted for, sitting against my chest with Sage’s hair smelling faintly of flowers and her fingers finding mine without either of us deciding to make it happen.
Around us, the clubhouse settles into the easy noise of home. Brothers giving each other shit. Laughter bouncing off the walls. Plans for tomorrow already turning into arguments.
The ride is at ten.
We’ve got the whole night before it, and for the first time in a life built out of missions, calculations, and knowing exactly what comes next, I don’t feel any need to know what comes after tonight.
Tonight, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Tomorrow, we’ll ride.
After that, I’ll spend the rest of my life beside the woman I love and the family we’d do anything to protect.
And if loving Sage this completely is reckless?
Then I plan on making a lifetime of it.
THE END