Chapter 25
Shadow
Two Months Later
The sun’s high and hot, and the yard behind the clubhouse is teeming with life on this Saturday afternoon.
I’m standing in the shadows watching. Not because I need to be there this time—but because it’s fucking hot and my popsicle will melt.
Yes, a popsicle. Fawnie and Willa went on a mercy mission when it looked like everyone was gonna come down with heatstroke.
The energy’s different on days like this.
Saturday afternoons when the club turns into something almost normal.
There’s a couple of grills going which sure as hell don’t help temperature-wise.
But no one’s gonna forego a cookout just because the mercury’s almost in triple digits.
A folding table loaded with food is set up in the parking lot.
There are kids running around like they own the world, and brothers posted in loose clusters laughing, arguing, talking shit like it’s a sacred ritual.
I’m here.
Not inside with the lights low, not on my couch staring at a wall, not letting my head chew through itself until there’s nothing left but bones. Here. Outside. In the noise. If Lockwood asked me to point to progress, this would be it.
I flex my jaw and take a suck on my popsicle, half expecting someone to make a crude remark.
“Shadow!” Stone’s voice cuts through the air like a firecracker.
I look up just in time to see the kid barreling towards me with a football tucked under his arm, his grin all teeth and confidence like he’s never had a bad day in his life.
“Hey,” I say, because Stone’s the kind of kid who expects you to say hey back like it’s law.
He slows at the last second, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Wanna throw?”
“Do I look like I wanna throw?” I ask.
He tilts his head, serious as hell. “Kinda.”
I snort. I might be integrated into society now, but I am not, repeat not, a running around on a day hotter than hell type of guy.
“C’mon. Justice is too busy with his girlfriend.” He says girlfriend like you’d say swamp creature.
I glance towards the picnic tables. Justice is leaning against one, taller than he should be at sixteen, his expression bored in that teenage way that’s mostly performance because I see the way he lights up when Nora giggles. He catches my look and smirks like the little bastard set me up.
Rita appears behind Stone with a paper plate stacked high. She knows that food is the automatic way to distract him.
Preacher’s a few feet away, manning the grill like it’s a pulpit.
He’s got tongs in one hand and a beer in the other, stained apron tied over his vest that reads ‘Kiss the Cook’ in faded letters.
He glances over at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
He doesn’t say what he’s thinking, but I can read it loud and clear.
Proud of you, son.
A few months ago, I’d have snarked something back.
Acted like an ass. I knew I was pushing away the people who wanted to help.
It doesn’t matter if, deep inside, you know how fucked up your behavior is.
You’re that far in denial. I shoot my not-exactly-father-in-law-but-as-close-as-dammit a grin and give him the thumbs up.
I’d been worried how he’d react to finding out that me and Fawnie were together.
He was cool when we told him, but in the three months since the announcement, he’s shown that it wasn’t just words.
I guess that’s also helped reprogram my brain. Instead of my inner voice telling me I’m a useless piece of shit and a monster who doesn’t deserve love, now it says Okay, you’re a work in progress. Keep it up, sunshine.
Yeah, it’s still a snarky motherfucker.
I turn back towards the tables, and that’s when I see Fawnie.
She’s sitting on the edge of a picnic bench in the shade, one leg tucked under her, a paper cup in her hand.
She’s wearing a white sundress with lemons on.
She’d paired it with a pair of purple Chucks, but she’s taken them off and is wiggling her bare foot in the light breeze.
Her hair’s up in a messy knot with loose pieces framing her face, and she’s smiling at something Lark’s saying.
The smile hits me like it always does—like I take a breath and realize I wasn’t breathing right before.
She looks up and catches me watching and her expression shifts instantly, turning private. For me.
Then she tilts her head and gives me that look. The one that says, You’re doing it. You’re here. I see you. My throat tightens, sharp and quick. I don’t deserve her.
No.
I stop that thought in its tracks. I’m allowed to be happy. I’m allowed to want more. And I’m allowed to love and be loved.
I walk over, no doubt with a soppy smile on my face, weaving between brothers and kids.
Raiden’s posted near the side door with Ella, both of them laughing about something low.
His hand is on her ass, so I can guess where the conversation is going and I avert my eyes wanting to give them privacy.
Tyrant’s by the far grill looking like a president even when he’s flipping burgers.
His daughter Penny is watching from a safe distance, but it looks like she’s the one directing the cooking process.
Family.
The word used to make me flinch.
Now it makes my chest ache in a different way.
Fawnie slides off the bench when I reach her. She steps close and hugs me. Her hand brushes my side as she moves in, subtle but deliberate. A claim.
“Hey,” she says softly.
I angle my body so I block her from the worst of the sun. “Hey, yourself.”
She smiles wider.
I lean down and kiss her. Not enough to start anything I can’t finish in public. Especially given her father is within my sightline. But enough so she knows exactly what we’ll be doing later.
Her fingers catch the edge of my t-shirt.
I’m not wearing my cut, it’s too damn hot for that.
When I fried my back, I lost some sweating ability and warm days are a nightmare.
At least Hart isn’t Florida, so we don’t get many days like this.
My arms are bare though, I’ve stopped hiding the scars there—they’re a part of me.
I’m still thinking about getting them tattooed.
Not to hide them, just because I like the look.
But we’ll see. Crow is up for the job if I decide to do it, and it’s been over five years since the fire so there’s no medical reason why I couldn’t get tattooed.
Instead of feeling like I should apologize for the state of my skin I enjoy the sensation of her soft touch.
“What’re you drinkin’?” I ask.
She lifts her cup. “Lemonade.”
“Spiked?” I say.
She winks. “Maybe.”
I take the cup from her and take a sip. Whiskey bites the back of my throat.
I hand it back. “Good.”
She nudges my hip with hers. “You okay?”
I know she still worries about me. It don’t matter if I tell her not to. I realize now it’s what you do when you love someone.
“I’m good,” I tell her. And I really mean it.
I might still have bad days. Days where I can’t silence the voices built from years of being told I wasn’t enough.
But the good days outweigh the bad days now, and I can really see a point sometime in the future where that dismissive voice is finally silenced.
Fawnie’s laugh fades into a quieter expression. She presses her fingertips lightly against the inside of my wrist, finding my pulse like she always does when she wants to anchor me. She can tell I’m getting inside my head. But this is a good introspection.
“I love you, Fawnie,” I say.
“I love you too, Finn,” she responds and stands on her tiptoes to plant a chaste kiss on my lips.
Across the yard, Stone and Justice start arguing about something and I hear Rita yelling at them.
Atlas fires up the other grill like he’s declaring war on raw meat. Willa is directing him like a general. Lark’s joined her old man and she and their daughter are good-naturedly teasing him.
Preacher’s voice rolls over it all, steady and warm, telling someone a story and making half the brothers laugh like they’ve never heard it before even though they probably have.
This is my life. This is my family, it’s where I belong.
And the woman in my arms, my ride or die—however cheesy that phrase is—is my everything.
I’m still a mess. I’m still stitched together with bad habits and old rage and scars that don’t fade.
But I’m not alone in it anymore, and I’m learning I don’t have to be perfect. You can be flawed and be loved.
Everyone is worthy of a happily ever after. Even when you feel like a miserable bastard.
Especially then.
Fawnie leans her head on my shoulder, and the movement is so natural it makes my chest ache. I tilt my head slightly, resting against hers. The noise of the club wraps around us like a rough blanket. And for the first time in my life, I realize I’m truly home.
Epilogue
Fawnie
One Year Later
Shadow isn’t asleep. He’s on his side across from me.
Our room is dark, but my eyes adjusted a long time ago.
I woke up an hour ago after crashing hard as soon as we got home.
I barely had time to strip my clothes off, fall into bed, and pull the blankets over me before I was out.
We had a crazy busy day with the club’s big summer cookout.
Last year, I moved a few weeks after, so this was the first summer one I got to experience.
It was a lot different than the one they put on in the fall.
The weather was nicer today, the kids are out of school.
It felt like half of Hart showed up as well, since the cookout really is a community deal.