Epilogue #2
We walk out together, my hand steady on her lower back.
The valet brings my truck over, and I open the truck door to help her in.
Then I slide behind the wheel and pull away from the curb, heart pounding.
We’re headed for the shop, for the next phase of whatever crazy life we’ve built together. I can’t wait to see her face.
As we drive, I rest my hand on her knee, feeling the solid warmth of her, the life we made, and the promise of more to come. If anyone tried to take this from me, I’d burn the world down to stop them.
We pull up to the garage and I park in my usual spot. Then I hop out and circle to her side. I help her down, ignoring the way she huffs about “being perfectly capable,” and lead her inside.
The shop’s empty, lights off except for the dim fluorescents backlighting the Boneyard sign. Feels weird, the place so quiet. Normally, there’d be engines revving or Jax cussing at the fax machine.
“Where is everyone?” Eden asks, her hand tightening on mine.
Before I can answer, the lights blaze on and the whole goddamn lobby explodes with noise.
“Surprise!” The word ricochets off the shop walls, nearly knocking me over.
Eden freezes, one hand flying to her mouth, the other clamping down on my arm with death-grip strength. For a second, all she can do is blink. Her eyes go huge, round as headlights. There’s a split-second lag before her brain catches up with her body and she starts to shake.
I watch the whole scene unfold in slow motion: my employees lining the edge of the garage, looking like a pack of mean-ass grizzlies caught in a ball pit.
There are balloons—pink, blue, and white, tied to every fucking surface.
A hand-painted “Welcome Baby Nash” banner stretches across the lobby wall, sagging in the middle where the tape’s given up.
On the counter, there’s a pile of wrapped gifts, a cake big enough to feed a minor league baseball team, and most surprisingly, a cardboard cut-out of a stork in a leather vest.
My wife is standing there silently taking everything in. I lean over, nudge her with my shoulder. “You okay, sweetheart?”
She turns, and there are tears on her cheeks already. “Bones,” she whispers, “you did this?”
I shrug. “It was actually Diesel and Jax’s idea.”
She laughs and cries at the same time, then wraps her arms around my neck. I catch her, holding her tight, careful of the bump between us. Her face burrows into my shirt, and I feel her shoulders shake.
“You happy?” I mutter into her hair.
She nods, sniffling. “I’m so happy I can’t imagine anything better than this.”
I laugh, the knot in my chest finally loosening.
The party explodes back into focus. Diesel stomps over, jabbing me in the chest with one sausage finger. “You owe me, asshole,” he grunts, but he’s grinning so wide his face practically cracks.
Jax slings an arm around both of us, sandwich in his other hand. “Hopefully the baby looks like Eden.” He raises his root beer like a toast, and everyone follows suit.
Eden straightens up, wipes her tears, and looks at the sea of faces—hard men and their women, all here for her, for us. She lifts her chin and squares her shoulders like she’s about to go into battle.
“Thank you,” she says, voice ringing through the shop, strong and clear. “I’ve never had a family before. Not one like this. You guys are the best.”
Diesel shuffles forward, something bunched up in his big mitts. He’s blushing, which on Diesel looks like a barn catching fire.
He clears his throat. “Got you something,” he mutters, holding out a tiny leather jacket. It’s black, with fringe, and on the back, someone’s stitched “Mini Sinner” in white thread.
Eden takes it like it’s made of glass. She runs her thumb over the patch, then looks up at Diesel. “It’s perfect,” she says, and he grunts, turning away so no one can see his eyes.
Jax hands her a soft bundle—his grandmother knit a baby blanket in pink and blue, with racing stripes at the edge. “Something special for Bones Jr.,” he says, straight-faced, and the whole shop cracks up.
It’s been an ongoing joke around here. We decided not to find out the sex of the baby, and everyone has been making bets on whether we’re having boy or a girl. Diesel and Jax have both already decided to call our little one Bones Jr no matter what.
There are gifts from everyone—stuffed animals, baby booties, a onesie that says “Raised in the Garage.” Even the old guy who delivers auto parts drops by, handing her a rattle shaped like a wrench.
She catches me staring, and her smile goes soft. She shoves through the crowd and crosses to where I stand by the workbench.
I put an arm around her waist, draw her in close, and rest my hand on her belly. I feel the baby kick, strong and wild, and I can’t wait for the future.
She leans into my side, her head on my shoulder. “You did good, Bones,” she murmurs. “I didn’t think anything could surprise me, but you managed.”
I kiss her temple. “You’ve been surprising me since day one. I’m just returning the favor.”
She laughs, and it’s the best sound in the world.
The party goes on, but I don’t care about any of it. Not the balloons, not the beer, not the bets on when the baby will come and what sex it is. All I care about is the woman at my side, the family we made, and the promise of more.
I never believed in fate or destiny or any of that bullshit. But in this moment, I know one thing for certain—I was made for her. For this.
And I’ll tear the world apart before I let anyone take it away.
The END