Epilogue
EPILOGUE
SAVAGE
T he Midnight Rebel smelled like wood polish, whiskey, and the faintest trace of lemon cleaner. It was quiet for now, with just the hum of the old jukebox in standby mode and the thudding of my boots against the scuffed floorboards as I restocked the liquor shelves, checked the register, refilled the garnish containers, and got the bar ready to open. It was Friday night, and we had a full house expected later. Everything needed to be ready, or the place would descend into pure chaos. Especially when I’d taken the night off.
I moved on autopilot since my mind wasn’t really in the bar. It was with Tamara, tucked away in my office, nose-deep in one of her textbooks, probably chewing on the edge of her pen while she tried to memorize a list of Latin terms or some shit like that. And our six-month old daughter. Calida already had me wrapped tighter than my fists in a street fight. I’d take the world apart with my bare hands for my baby girl, no questions asked.
The front door opened, and Hawk stomped inside, muttering to himself.
“Late,” I grunted when he finally noticed I was in the room.
“Take it up with Midnight,” he snapped as he marched over to the bar. “New assignment.”
He snatched a glass and a bottle of his favorite whiskey. After pouring two fingers, he drank it all in one swallow.
I waited, knowing he’d keep ranting if I let him, and I could get a better idea of why he looked like he was on the edge of his sanity.
“Fucking client briefing.” He scowled as he poured another glass and tossed the entire contents down his throat again. “What kind of a name is Gemma, anyway?”
He pivoted on his heel and disappeared into the kitchen.
Gemma .
My lips curved into a smirk. From the way he’d been riled up, I should’ve figured this was about a woman. His woman.
Chuckling, I finished with the last of the prep and wiped my palms on a bar towel, before heading to my office. Hawk was forgotten, and my heart kicked up with every step.
I pushed the door open quietly, and there they were. My reasons for existing.
Tamara was curled in my chair with her legs tucked under her. She was wearing one of my T-shirts knotted at the waist and a pair of soft black leggings. Her hair was twisted up in a messy knot, a pencil stabbed through it, making me think of a naughty librarian. Her laptop was open, her textbook sprawled across her lap, a highlighter gripped between two fingers as she read with a furrowed brow.
Hmmm. Naughty student was probably a better comparison.
Beside her, our daughter swung slowly back and forth in her baby swing, soft gurgles escaping her chubby little mouth. She was dressed in a pink onesie with ruffles at the shoulders and the words “I’m proud my mommy can’t resist her biker” on the front, and tiny socks that never stayed on. Her pacifier was in her mouth, but she kept trying to spit it out.
Her bright cornflower-blue eyes flicked toward me and widened like she knew who I was. Knew I was hers . She squealed, a sound that hit me dead in the center of the chest, and my heart squeezed.
Tamara looked up and smiled. A sweet, happy one that wrecked me every time.
“Hey,” she said softly, eyes still a little glassy from staring at her notes. “All set?”
“Yeah,” I murmured, stepping inside and shutting the door behind me. “Bar’s ready. Staff’s prepped. I’m done for the night.”
Her round lips grew curved up. “You have the night off?”
“Yep.”
“Whatever will we do with ourselves?” she asked, batting her eyelashes. It was amazing how she could make me laugh and as hard as a fucking rock at the same time.
“Got some ideas,” I told her with a wink.
Giggling, she turned in the chair slightly, stretching her arms overhead. I let my gaze drag over her. The curve of her waist, the soft swell of her tits, the way her belly had never quite gone back to the way it used to be. I didn’t want it to. Every mark, every line she’d earned from carrying our girl made her a fucking warrior. She was sexy as hell. And all mine.
“You almost done?” I asked, nodding at the book.
She groaned. “I have to finish reviewing this clinical ethics chapter, then quiz myself on pharmacology.” She rolled her eyes and slumped dramatically. “It never ends.”
I stepped behind her, bent low, and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, then dug my thumbs into her stiff muscles, ignoring the way her delighted moan felt like a fist wrapped around my shaft.
“That’s ’cause you’re doing something that matters.” My voice was rough and quiet. “Told you I’d back you all the way. You’re more than halfway done. That’s more than most would’ve tried.”
She leaned into me slightly, that familiar tension in her shoulders melting away. “Because of you,” she whispered.
“ For you,” I corrected. “Always.”
After the clinic fallout hit the news, the whole operation collapsed overnight. Corporate heads rolled, labs shut down, assets frozen. I’d made sure the worst of them never got back up again. Once the dust settled, I pushed her—gently but without giving her room to back out—to chase her original dream. A real nursing degree. A future on her terms. And she’d taken to it with the same quiet strength I saw in her the night I first carried her to safety. She amazed me every damn day.
I kissed the top of her head, then nodded toward the door. “Time to go home.”
We quickly packed up her backpack, purse, and the diaper bag while Calida yawned like this was all beneath her. Then she promptly passed out the second her head hit the soft padding of her car seat.
The drive was less than fifteen minutes, but it felt longer. My heart beat hard the whole way, my palms damp as I hoped for the right reaction to my surprise.
Her fingers drummed absently on the console while she looked out the window, unaware of what was coming.
Finally, I pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine.
Tamara blinked, confused as she stared at the house in front of us. “Whose place is this?”
“Yours,” I said simply. “Ours.”
She turned to me, wide-eyed, mouth falling open slightly as she stared. The stone and wood structure was two stories, with a wraparound porch and warm light spilling from the inside like it had been waiting for her. For us.
I exited the car and jogged around to her side, opening her door and helping her to her feet.
“I…I don’t understand,” she whispered.
“It’s home.”
She stared at me with an awed expression as I unclipped Calida’s seat and lifted it out. Holding the carrier on one arm, I grabbed Tamara’s hand and pulled her toward the front door.
Inside, her steps slowed as she took it all in. The hardwood floors, wide open kitchen with the hanging pots and the island bar, and brick fireplace with the hearth already stacked. The oversized sofa, with a plush blanket tossed over the back.
Everything had been handpicked for comfort and warmth. For a family.
“You did this?” she gasped.
I chuckled. “Promised I’d never lie to you, baby, so I gotta be honest. The other old ladies had a big hand in picking all this shit out.”
Tamara giggled and went up on her tiptoes to brush a kiss over my cheek. “I love you.”
“Love you, too, baby.” I leaned in for another kiss, but she danced away to explore the place.
When she stepped into the hallway and noticed the number of doors lining it, she raised a brow, eyeing me suspiciously. “This is awfully big for just the three of us.”
I smirked. “Don’t worry, baby. We’re gonna fill it.”
She turned, one hand on her hip and an adorably sassy expression on her face. “Oh really? Just how many kids are you expecting me to pop out, exactly?”
I stepped closer, brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and kissed the corner of her mouth. “However many you’ll give me.”
Tamara’s breath hitched, and she looked at me with that expression that always made me feel like the luckiest man alive.
Taking her hand once more, I led her to the nursery and pushed the door open.
Her gasp was everything.
Because this one was all me. I hadn’t let anyone step foot in this room. It had to be fucking perfect for my girls.
The room was warm, painted in soft sage and cream, bathed in the sunlight slanting through gauzy curtains. The crib, dresser, and rocking chair were all in honey-colored wood. Stuffed animals lined the shelves, and the bedding set was the exact one she’d pinned three separate times without realizing. I had Deviant print out her old boards and spent weeks getting every detail right.
“You did this?” she asked, voice thick.
I nodded, then frowned when her eyes got suspiciously wet. I hated when she cried—even happy tears.
With a knowing smirk, she wiped away the moisture, then walked slowly into the room. She trailed her fingertips over the dresser and the top of the rocking chair, then bent over the crib to adjust a stuffed bunny.
I brought the baby carrier over and carefully set it inside the crib.
Tamara ran a fingertip over our daughter’s soft cheek, then bent to kiss her forehead. Calida let out a soft sigh in her sleep, and my heart was so full it fucking ached as I watched them both.
After a minute, I stepped behind Tamara, gripped her hand, and pulled her gently toward the door.
“Come on,” I rasped, picking up the baby monitor as we stepped out of the room, then quietly shutting the door.
Tamara let me lead her down the hall, past the other doors, to the primary bedroom. I opened it and guided her inside. This was the one other room I’d done alone. It was our space, and I hadn’t wanted to share it with anyone, not even to let them help me pick out the paint color for the walls.
She walked to the center and did a complete turn, taking it all in. Low lighting, dark wood furniture, and a massive bed already turned down.
“It’s beautiful. Perfect.” Then she turned to me, eyes dark and knowing. “I take it we’re not unpacking?”
I growled low in my throat, already backing her toward the bed. “Later.”
My mouth caught hers in a kiss that promised everything.
Because tonight, I was going to worship her all over again.
And tomorrow, we’d start filling another room.