Chapter Twenty-Nine
Hope
The greenhouse was warm when I stepped inside, the morning sun streaming through the glass panels and casting everything in golden light. The air was thick with the scent of soil and growing things: lavender and rosemary, mint and basil, the jasmine plants that lined the back wall in neat rows.
Faith was at the potting bench, her hands deep in dark earth as she transplanted seedlings into larger containers. She didn’t look up when I entered, but I saw her shoulders tense slightly, like she’d been expecting me.
“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked quietly.
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, suddenly exhausted despite having spent most of the night lying awake beside Chapman. “No.”
“How is he?”
“Sleeping. Finally.” I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling the chill despite the greenhouse warmth. “Faith, I need to talk to you.”
She set down the seedling she’d been holding and wiped her hands on her apron, turning to face me fully. Her expression was gentle, patient. “I’m listening.”
The words stuck in my throat. I didn’t know where to start. I didn’t know how to explain the tangled mess of emotions that had been building since that night at the pond. But Faith just waited, her hands resting on the potting bench, her eyes steady on mine.
“That night,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.
Faith’s expression didn’t change, but I saw something flicker in her eyes. Understanding, maybe. Or sympathy.
“He was drunk,” I continued, the words coming faster now. “Grieving. He’d been locked in that room for two weeks, and when he saw me in my white nightgown with my hair down, he thought—” My voice broke. “I let him believe the lie.”
“Hope.”
“He called me Julie the entire time.” The confession tore out of me, raw and painful.
“Every kiss, every touch, every whispered word, he thought he was with her. And I knew. God, Faith, I knew, and I let it happen anyway because I wanted him so badly, I didn’t care that he was seeing someone else when he looked at me. ”
Faith moved toward me, but I held up a hand, stopping her. If she touched me now, I’d fall apart completely, and I needed to get this out.
“He didn’t know it was me until the barbecue,” I said, my voice shaking. “When he saw me with Angel. That’s when he realized. That’s when everything fell apart.”
I told her everything then. The words spilled out in a rush.
The two weeks Chapman had spent watching me from afar, the night at the diner when he’d finally approached me, the stolen weeks of meetings where we talked and walked and built something real between us.
I told her about the Satan’s Angels attack at Joey’s Burger Shack, the motel room where we’d made love all night, Zeke discovering us at dawn.
I told her about Chapman’s arrest, the judgment, and Reaper’s decision.
And then I told her about last night. “He lied to Reaper,” I said, my voice breaking on the words. “He told Reaper we were already married to avoid the Golden Line-Up. And now Reaper’s ordered him to actually marry me to legitimize the lie before Balthazar and Zeke find out the truth.”
Faith’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t interrupt.
“Chapman came to my room last night to tell me,” I continued, tears streaming down my face now.
“He confessed everything. The lie. Reaper’s ultimatum.
And then he told me that he loves me. That he wants to marry me.
Not because Reaper ordered it, but because he meant the words when he said them.
Because he wants a life with me and Aurora. ”
“And what did you say?” Faith asked gently.
“I said no.” The words came out as a sob. “I told him I won’t marry him because Reaper ordered it. That I wouldn’t be coerced, even by love. That I spent my entire life trying not to be like Mom, and I won’t let anyone, not the club, not our family, or otherwise, take away my choice.”
Faith was quiet for a long moment, her gaze steady on mine. Then she moved to the small bench near the jasmine plants and patted the space beside her. “Come here.”
I crossed the greenhouse on shaking legs and sat down beside her. She wrapped her arm around my shoulders, pulling me close, and I buried my face in her neck and cried.
“I love him,” I whispered against her skin.
“God, Faith, I love him so much it terrifies me. But I can’t.
I can’t marry him like this. I can’t spend the rest of my life wondering if he only said what he said to save himself.
If he only loves me because I was convenient when he was drowning in grief.
If I’m just—just a replacement for Julie. ”
“You’re not a replacement,” Faith said firmly. “You know that, don’t you?”
“Do I?” I pulled back to look at her, wiping at my tears with the back of my hand. “He thought I was her that night, Faith. He made love to me believing I was someone else. How do I know he’s not still seeing her when he looks at me?”
“Because he’s spent weeks getting to know you,” Faith said, her voice gentle but insistent.
“He’s told you about his life, his past, his daughter.
He’s been vulnerable with you in ways executioners aren’t supposed to be.
That’s not a man looking for a replacement, Hope.
That’s a man trying to build something real. ”
“But what if it’s not real?” The question tore out of me, desperate and raw. “What if he’s just saying what he needs to say to survive? What if Reaper’s ultimatum is the only reason he wants to marry me?”
Faith was quiet for a moment, her hand rubbing slow circles on my back. Then she said, “What if it is real, and you walk away because you’re too afraid to find out?”
I stared at her, my breath catching in my throat.
“Life is short, Hope,” Faith continued, her voice soft but steady.
“Nothing is guaranteed. Tomorrow isn’t promised.
And if you walk away from Chapman now, if you let fear make this decision for you, you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been.
You’ll never know the depth of his love because you’ll have already decided not to find out. ”
“But I can’t just.” I shook my head, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks.
“I can’t let Reaper control me. I can’t let the club dictate my life.
I spent my entire childhood watching Mom give away her agency one small choice at a time, and I swore I would never be like her.
I swore I would never let a man or a club tell me who to be or what to do. ”
“And you haven’t,” Faith said firmly. “You’re not Mom, Hope. You’ve never been Mom. You’ve built a life for yourself: a business, a home, a family that loves you. You’ve made your own choices every step of the way. And this? This is just another choice.”
“But it doesn’t feel like a choice,” I whispered. “It feels like a trap. Marry him or watch him die. How is that a choice?”
Faith turned to face me fully, her hands gripping my shoulders. “The trap isn’t the marriage, Hope. The trap is letting fear decide for you. Your fear isn’t in refusing to marry Chapman. Your fear is in deciding, truly deciding what you want for your future and choosing it deliberately.”
I stared at her, my heart pounding in my chest.
“You’re so focused on not being controlled that you’re letting that fear control you,” Faith continued, her voice gentle but insistent.
“You’re so afraid of becoming Mom that you’re refusing to see what’s right in front of you.
Chapman loves you. You love him. And yes, the circumstances are complicated and messy, and wrapped up in club politics.
But when has anything in our lives ever been simple? ”
“I just—” My voice broke. “I don’t want to make a mistake. I don’t want to marry him and spend the rest of my life wondering if he only said yes because he had to.”
“Then ask yourself this,” Faith said, her eyes locked on mine. “If Reaper hadn’t given that ultimatum, if there was no threat, no coercion, no club politics, would you want to marry Chapman?”
The question hung in the air between us, heavy and unavoidable.
I thought about Chapman’s hands on my skin, his voice in the darkness, the way he had looked at me in the diner when he told me about Julie.
I thought about the stolen weeks of conversations, the way he’d opened up to me about his grief and his daughter and his fear of not being enough.
I thought about the way he had fought for me at the Diamondback compound, the way he stood in front of Reaper and claimed me as his wife, even knowing it could cost him everything.
I thought about the way he climbed those stairs last night, broken and bleeding, just to tell me the truth.
“Yes,” I whispered, the word barely audible. “Yes, I would want to marry him.”
Faith’s expression softened, and she pulled me close again. “Then that’s your answer, Hope. That’s your choice. Not Reaper’s. Not the club’s. Yours.”
“But how do I know?” I asked, my voice muffled against her shoulder. “How do I know he really loves me and not just the idea of me? How do I know I’m not just convenient?”
“You don’t,” Faith said simply. “You can’t know for certain. That’s what love is, Hope. It’s a leap of faith. It’s choosing to trust someone with your heart, even when you’re terrified they might break it. It’s deciding that the risk of pain is worth the chance at happiness.”
I pulled back to look at her, tears streaming down my face. “What if I’m wrong? What if I marry him and it falls apart?”
“Then it falls apart,” Faith said, her voice steady.
“And you’ll survive it, just like you’ve survived everything else.
But, Hope, what if you’re right? What if you marry him and it’s everything you’ve ever wanted?
What if you build a life together, a real life, with love and laughter and all the messy, complicated, beautiful things that come with it?
Are you really willing to throw that away because you’re afraid? ”
I stared at her, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.
“You can’t live your whole life protecting yourself from pain,” Faith continued, her hands gripping mine.
“That’s not living, Hope. That’s just existing.
And you deserve more than that. You deserve to be loved.
You deserve to be happy. And if Chapman is the man who makes you happy, if he’s the one you’ve been waiting for, then don’t let fear take that away from you. ”
“I’m so scared,” I whispered, my voice breaking.
“I know.” Faith pulled me close again, her arms wrapping around me tightly. “But you’re also brave. You’re the bravest person I know. And I think you already know what you want to do. You’re just afraid to admit it.”
I closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of soil and jasmine, feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin. Faith was right. I did know what I wanted.
I wanted Chapman. I wanted his hands on my skin and his voice in the darkness. I wanted to wake up beside him every morning and fall asleep in his arms every night. I wanted to help him raise Aurora, to build a life together, to be the family he’d lost when Julie died.
I wanted to marry him.
Not because Reaper ordered it. Not because the club demanded it. But because I loved him. Because he was mine, and I was his, and nothing, not fear, not doubt, not the entire fucking MC world, could change that.
“What do I do?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Faith pulled back to look at me, her eyes shining with tears. “You decide what you want, Hope. And then you choose it. Deliberately. On your own terms. You walk into that room and you tell Chapman exactly what you want from him. Not what Reaper wants. Not what the club wants. What you want.”
“And if he can’t give me that?”
“Then you walk away,” Faith said simply. “But at least you’ll know. At least you’ll have made the choice yourself instead of letting fear make it for you.”
I nodded slowly, wiping at my tears with the back of my hand. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.” I took a deep breath, feeling something settle in my chest. Not a resolution, exactly. But clarity. A sense of direction I hadn’t had before.
I loved Chapman. And I wanted to marry him.
But I needed to do it on my own terms. I needed to know that he wanted me.
Not because Reaper ordered it, not because it was convenient, but because he loved me.
Because he chose me. And if he couldn’t give me that, if he couldn’t separate his feelings from the coercion of the situation, then I would walk away.
But at least I would know. At least I would have asked.
Faith stood and pulled me to my feet, her hands gripping mine tightly. “You’re going to be okay, Hope. No matter what happens, you’re going to be okay.”
I nodded, squeezing her hands. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For listening. For not judging. For reminding me that I’m not Mom.”
Faith’s expression softened, and she pulled me into a tight hug. “You could never be Mom, Hope. You’re too strong. Too brave. Too you.”
I held her for a long moment, drawing strength from her presence. Then I pulled back and took a deep breath.
“I need to talk to him,” I said quietly.
“I know.” Faith smiled, her eyes shining with tears. “Go. I’ll be here if you need me.”
I nodded and turned toward the door, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn’t know what I was going to say to Chapman. Didn’t know how to put into words everything I was feeling. But I knew one thing for certain: I wasn’t going to let fear make this decision for me.
I was going to choose. Deliberately. On my own terms.
And whatever happened next, I would face it with my eyes wide open.