Chapter 15 #2
I can picture her here as a little girl—blonde pigtails, stubborn chin, already too smart for her own good.
Running through this yard, climbing that tree, growing up surrounded by love and chaos and the fierce protection of her family.
Someday, our child will play in this yard too.
Will run across this grass, climb these trees, be surrounded by this same loud, loving, chaotic family.
The thought makes something warm bloom in my chest.
The ring box is burning a hole in my pocket.
"You okay?" Dalla asks, squeezing my hand. "You seem nervous."
"I'm fine." I force a smile, hoping she can't hear how hard my heart is pounding. "Just not used to big family gatherings."
"You'll get used to it." She grins up at me, completely oblivious to what's about to happen. "This is nothing. Wait until Christmas. Mom goes all out. There's like forty people here, minimum, and she cooks enough food to feed an army."
God help me.
Fern sweeps Dalla into a hug the moment we walk through the gate, fussing over her bruises and asking about her appetite and whether she's been taking her prenatal vitamins.
She's wearing an apron that says "Grill Master's Wife" and her hair is escaping from its ponytail, but she's glowing with happiness.
Her daughter is safe. Her grandchild is healthy, and now she gets to feed everyone she loves.
Runes shakes my hand with a grip that's almost friendly—a far cry from the death glares he used to give me.
Amazing what saving his daughter's life and putting a bullet in her kidnapper will do for a relationship.
He puts me to work at the grill with Fenrir, which I'm starting to realize is some kind of family bonding ritual.
"Heard you're sticking around," Fenrir says, flipping burgers with practiced ease.
He's a big man—bigger than me—with tattoos covering every visible inch of skin and a beard that would make a Viking jealous.
VP of the Raiders of Valhalla.
"That's the plan."
"Good." He hands me a spatula. "Dalla deserves someone who's going to be there. Not some fly-by-night asshole who disappears when things get hard."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"I know. If I thought you were, we'd be having a very different conversation." He grins, taking the edge off the words. "Welcome to the family, brother. Try not to burn the burgers."
I manage not to burn the burgers.
Small victories.
As the afternoon wears on, I find myself relaxing into the chaos.
This family is loud and messy and occasionally terrifying, but they're also warm and welcoming in a way I've never experienced.
They argue and laugh and tease each other mercilessly, but underneath it all is a bone-deep love that holds them together through everything—through danger and loss and all the complications of life in the MC world.
I want that. I want it for myself, for Dalla, for our baby.
I want Sunday dinners and holiday chaos and a house full of people who would die for each other without a second thought.
I watch her across the yard, chatting with Everly and a few of the other old ladies.
She's wearing a sundress that shows off her legs and hides the bandages on her stomach, her hair loose around her shoulders.
She's glowing—the pregnancy, maybe, or just the relief of being safe and surrounded by people who love her.
When she laughs at something Everly says, the sound carries across the yard and hits me right in the chest.
I'm going to marry this woman.
The thought isn't new—I've known it for weeks, maybe longer.
From the moment she looked at me with those blue eyes and saw something worth saving, I think some part of me knew I'd never be able to let her go.
But standing here, watching her with her family, it crystallizes into something solid.
Something certain.
Something I can't wait another minute to make real.
I catch Everly's eye across the yard.
She sees my expression and grins.
Does everyone know what I’m about to do?
Then again, I fecking told Rev and she probably told all the old ladies.
Now or never.
I hand the spatula back to Fenrir and cross the yard to where Dalla is standing, my heart pounding harder than it did during the assault on the farmhouse.
This is it.
This is the moment that changes everything.
She looks up when I approach, her smile softening into something private.
Something just for me.
"Hey," she says. "You survived burger duty."
"Barely." I take her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin, the steady pulse of her heartbeat. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Of course." Her brow furrows slightly, concern flickering in her eyes. "Is everything okay?"
"Everything's perfect." I lead her away from the crowd, toward a quiet corner of the yard near an old oak tree.
The same tree, I'm guessing, that she climbed as a kid.
The same tree that's probably witnessed a thousand family memories—birthdays and holidays and ordinary afternoons that seemed unremarkable at the time but built a lifetime of love.
Time to add one more.
"RJ, you're scaring me," she says. "What's going on?"
I take a deep breath.
Then another. Then I reach into my pocket and pull out the ring box.
Dalla's eyes go wide.
"I had this whole speech planned," I say, and my voice is steadier than I expected.
"Something about how you changed my life, how I never knew I could feel this way, how you make me want to be a better man.
And all of that is true—every word of it.
But standing here, looking at you, I realize that none of that really matters. "
I open the box.
The diamond catches the afternoon light, scattering rainbows across her stunned face.
"What matters is this: I love you. I love you more than I knew it was possible to love another person. I love your strength and your stubbornness and the way you refuse to back down from anything. I love that you look at me and see something worth saving, even when I couldn't see it myself."
I sink to one knee, and somewhere behind us I hear someone gasp.
But I don't look away from Dalla.
I can't.
"I love that you're carrying our baby. I love that we're going to build a life together—messy and complicated and probably terrifying, but ours.
I want to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of my life.
I want to argue with you about what to name our kids and where to hang pictures and whose turn it is to do the dishes.
I want all of it. Every mundane, beautiful, ordinary moment. "
Tears are streaming down her face now, but she's smiling.
That smile—the one that makes everything else disappear.
"Dalla, will you marry me?"
For a heartbeat, she doesn't answer.
Just stares at me with those blue eyes, tears falling, lips trembling.
"Yes."
The word is barely a whisper, but it's the loudest thing I've ever heard.
"Yes," she says again, stronger this time. "Yes, of course, yes—"
I'm on my feet before she can finish, sliding the ring onto her finger and pulling her into my arms.
She's laughing and crying at the same time, her arms wrapped around my neck, her body pressed against mine.
"I love you," she says against my mouth. "I love you so much."
"I love you too." I kiss her—deep and thorough, not caring that her entire family is probably watching. "Both of you."
A cheer goes up from the yard.
When I finally pull back, I see that we've drawn a crowd.
Fern is crying. Runes is trying very hard not to cry.
Everly is bouncing up and down, clutching Geirolf's arm.
Even some of the club members are clapping and whistling.
"About damn time," someone shouts—Tor, I think, Dalla's brother.
Dalla laughs, wiping her eyes. "We've only been together for like six weeks."
"And you're already pregnant and engaged. Keeping it classy, sis."
She flips him off, which only makes everyone laugh harder.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of congratulations and hugs and too many questions about wedding dates and baby names.
Fern wants to know if we've thought about venues—she has opinions, many opinions, about the perfect location for a wedding.
Everly and the other old ladies want to know every single detail of how I picked the ring, and when I tell her about my FaceTime session with Revna they all seem impressed.
"I knew it was the one," she says, admiring the ring on Dalla's finger. "The second I saw it, I knew."
"You have good taste," Dalla tells her.
Through it all, Dalla stays by my side, her hand in mine, the diamond glinting on her finger.
Every time someone congratulates us, she looks at me with this expression of pure, radiant joy that makes my chest ache.
I did that. I put that look on her face.
Later, when the party has wound down and most of the guests have headed home, we find ourselves sitting on the porch swing watching the fireflies dance across the darkening yard.
The house is quiet behind us—Fern and Runes have gone inside to clean up, giving us space.
Dalla leans her head against my shoulder, her fingers playing with her engagement ring.
Twisting it back and forth, catching the last light of the fading sun.
"Can I ask you something?" she says.
"Anything."
"Do you want a boy or a girl?"
I consider the question seriously.
A boy—someone to teach, to train, to pass on whatever wisdom I've managed to accumulate over the years.
Someone to play football with, to take fishing, to show how to be a good man in a world that doesn't always reward goodness.
Or a girl—fierce and stubborn like her mother, with blue eyes and blonde hair and a smile that could bring men to their knees.
Someone I'd have to protect from the world while also teaching her to protect herself.
Both options terrify me.
Both options fill me with a joy I don't have words for.
"It doesn't matter to me," I say finally. "Because it'll be a combination of us both. Your strength, your creativity, your heart. And maybe a little of my stubbornness, god help us all."
She laughs softly. "That poor kid doesn't stand a chance."
"No," I agree. "But they'll be loved. Fiercely, unconditionally loved. That's what matters."
"They will be." She leans her head against my shoulder, her body warm against mine. "I'm scared, you know. About being a mom. About screwing it up."
"I'm terrified," I admit. "I had no role model for this. My da did his best, but he was a soldier first, always. Raising a child—being there, really being there, the way your parents were for you? I have no idea how to do that."
"But you want to learn."
"More than anything."
She's quiet for a moment, her fingers intertwined with mine.
The ring catches the fading light, a promise on her hand. A promise of forever.
"We'll figure it out together," she says finally. "That's what we do, right? Figure things out together."
"That's what we do."
The sun has set completely now, painting the sky in deep shades of purple and the first scattered stars.
Inside, I can hear Fern and Runes moving around, the clink of dishes being washed, the low murmur of their voices.
Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks.
Crickets have started their evening chorus.
This is my life now.
Family dinners and backyard barbecues and lazy evenings on the porch.
A woman I love, a baby on the way, a future I never dared to imagine.
Six weeks ago, I was a soldier with no ties, no roots, no reason to stay anywhere for more than a few months.
I thought that was freedom. I thought that was what I wanted.
I was wrong.
This is freedom. This is what I want. This woman, this family, this life.
It's terrifying. It's perfect. It's everything.
"Hey, Dalla?"
"Mm?"
"Thank you."
She lifts her head, looking at me with curiosity. "For what?"
"For seeing me. For giving me a chance. For building this life with me." I press a kiss to her forehead. "For making me believe I could have this."
"You always could have had this, RJ." She touches my face, her eyes soft in the darkness. "You just needed someone to show you it was possible."
"And now?"
She smiles—that smile, my smile, the one that changed everything.
"Now you're stuck with me. Forever."
Forever.
I like the sound of that.