Chapter 10
TEN
BELLA
My nerves are buzzing, but Carlie’s enthusiasm is infectious. By the time we step into the kitchen, I’m smiling in spite of myself.
A blonde woman is standing at the counter, tossing salad in a big wooden bowl. She glances up as we enter, her face breaking into a warm smile.
“This is Sophie,” Carlie says, motioning toward her. “She’s Tank’s wife. Sophie, this is Bella.”
Sophie wipes her hands on a dish towel before extending one toward me. “Nice to meet you, Bella. Did I overhear something about a cheesecake? Did you make it?”
I smile, shaking her hand. “I did. It’s not that big a deal, though.”
Carlie snorts. “She’s lying. It’s stunning.”
Sophie laughs, a deep, easy sound. “Well, thanks for making it. And don’t let Carlie fool you—she’d hype up a peanut butter sandwich if it suited her.”
“I heard that,” Carlie calls from across the kitchen, setting the cheesecake on the counter.
I laugh, the tight knot in my chest loosening just a little. Sophie’s humor and laid-back vibe feel more familiar than I expected.
We make our way into the living room next, where a petite brunette is chasing after a curly-haired toddler who’s trying very hard to escape her grasp. The little girl squeals as she dodges behind the couch, and the woman lets out an exasperated laugh.
“Jenny, meet Bella,” Carlie says, stopping near the couch. “She’s Jax’s friend.”
Jenny straightens, brushing a strand of hair out of her face as she gives me a quick once-over. “Friend, huh?” she says, her tone teasing as she picks up the toddler, who immediately starts squirming.
I feel my cheeks heat, but I force a small smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” she says, adjusting the toddler on her hip. “Sorry about the chaos. Two-year-olds have one mission in life, and it’s to make me lose my mind.”
I smile. “She’s adorable, though.”
Jenny grins, her eyes softening as she looks at her daughter. “Yeah, she’s a handful, but she’s worth it.”
Her tone is so casual, but the love in her voice is unmistakable. It makes my chest ache in the best way.
Our next stop is the backyard, where a brunette with sharp features and bright eyes is bouncing a chubby little boy on her hip. The baby is all cheeks and curiosity, his little hands gripping at her shirt.
“Chloe, this is Bella,” Carlie says, motioning toward me. “She’s here with Jax.”
Chloe’s face lights up, and she gives me a warm smile. “Oh, hi! It’s so nice to meet you.”
“You too,” I say, waving awkwardly at the baby. He blinks at me for a second before letting out a wet raspberry, and we both laugh.
“This guy’s eight months old,” Chloe explains, adjusting him on her hip. “And he’s already trying to grab anything in sight. He’s at the ‘destroy everything’ stage.”
I laugh, watching as the baby reaches for her necklace. “He’s adorable.”
“Thanks,” she says, beaming. “And don’t let the noise scare you. These gatherings are always a little wild, but they’re a good time once you settle in.”
As Carlie continues to introduce me around, I start to notice something surprising, everyone here feels… normal.
I’d expected something a little more intimidating. Maybe leather jackets, sharp attitudes, and an unspoken “us vs. them” vibe. But these women? They’re talking about recipes, sharing stories about their kids’ antics, and swapping tips about which diapers are currently on sale.
They’re not “big bad biker bitches.” They’re just moms and wives and girlfriends, navigating life the best they can, just like anyone else.
By the time we loop back to the kitchen, I feel more at ease. Carlie hands me a drink, and Sophie starts asking me questions about my job, and if I enjoy being a nurse. She asks questions that make me feel like she actually cares about the answers.
As the conversation flows, I glance out the back window, catching sight of Jax. He’s standing by the grill with Mason, laughing at something Piston just said. When he glances up and meets my eyes, he gives me a small, reassuring smile.
I return it, the warmth spreading from my chest to my fingertips.
Maybe this world isn’t as different as I thought. And maybe—just maybe—I can find my place in it.
By the time the food is ready, long tables are set up under a string of lights, and everyone gathers around, plates piled high, laughter echoing through the air.
I find myself sitting between Carlie and Jax, feeling a little less like an outsider and more like I belong here.
The guys are loud, trading jabs and cracking jokes at one another’s expense.
“Remember the time Piston tried to grill burgers and set his sleeve on fire?” Blade says, barely containing his laughter.
“I didn’t set it on fire,” Piston protests, shaking his head. “It was a little singed.”
“A little ?” Rev snorts. “You had a hole the size of a dinner plate in that shirt.”
The women roll their eyes, shaking their heads in unison like they’ve heard these stories a hundred times before.
“You’d think they’d get tired of teasing each other,” Sophie mutters, her tone dripping with exasperated affection.
“They won’t,” Jenny replies, smiling as she sips her drink.
“Ever,” Chloe adds with a sigh, but there’s a small smile tugging at her lips too.
As I sit back, observing the easy camaraderie, I can’t help but notice something deeper beneath the noise. It’s not just that they tease and laugh—it’s the way they lean into each other, the way their banter feels like a language only they share. There’s a bond here, something unshakable.
It’s not just the men. The women have it too. They have different personalities and different lives, but there’s a sisterhood among them that you can feel. They glance at each other like they don’t need words to communicate, and when one of the kids starts to fuss, they’re all up in an instant, helping without hesitation.
This isn’t just a group of people—it’s a family. Best friends turned into something deeper.
I glance around the table, watching Jax laugh at something Mason says, and for the first time, I really see the weight of it. These people are each other’s everything.
It hits me like a wave, and suddenly, I’m thinking about my own family. About my sisters.
We’ve always been close—close in the way you only get when you’ve been through hell together. When our parents died, I was just seventeen. Brianna was only fourteen, and Brooke, at twenty, suddenly became the one holding it all together.
She had no clue how to take care of us. Hell, she was barely an adult herself. But she didn’t let us see her struggle. She made sure we had what we needed. Thank God for our parents’ life insurance. It paid off the house and gave us enough to live on, enough to get through school without falling apart.
I miss my mom and dad every day. Some days it’s a sharp, cutting pain, other days, it’s quieter, a dull ache in the background. But if losing them taught me anything, it’s that family isn’t just about blood—it’s about the people who show up for you, who fight for you, who stick around when things get hard.
That’s what this is. That’s what these people have.
A motorcycle club might seem like chaos to outsiders. I thought that too. But sitting here now, I see it’s not about the noise or the leather or the rough edges. At its core, it’s about loyalty, love, and showing up for each other.
It’s about family.
And as I sit back in my chair, letting the warmth of the evening sink in, I feel honored to have been invited into this world. Even if it’s just for tonight, I get it now. And I respect it.
The buzz of conversation at the table hums around me, but it’s the kind of background noise that feels comforting. The guys are still teasing each other, loud and animated, while the women exchange knowing looks and occasional sighs.
I’m caught up in it all when Jax leans in closer, his voice low enough for only me to hear. “You good?”
I glance at him, his brow furrowed just slightly like he’s genuinely worried. It’s such a small gesture, but it hits me harder than I expected.
I nod, smiling softly. “More than okay.”
His lips twitch into that small, almost-smile I’ve come to recognize, and he leans back, his hand brushing against mine under the table.
Once everyone finishes eating, the women start gathering up plates and glasses, shooing the men away when they offer to help. “We’ve got this,” Carlie says, rolling her eyes at Mason. “Go talk about motorcycles or whatever it is you do.”
I follow the group inside, where the kitchen is surprisingly tidy, most of the cleaning already done while they cooked. There’s not much left to do but put the food away, so I start packing up the leftovers, glad to have something to keep my hands busy.
Jenny, who’s been the loudest of the group all evening, bumps me lightly with her hip as I reach for a container. “So, what’s the deal with you and Jax?”
I blink, caught off guard by her bluntness. “Um, we just started seeing each other a couple of weeks ago. I guess we’re… seeing how things go?”
Jenny grins, her eyes sharp. “He’s never brought a girl to the club. Or to Mason’s house. That means something. You mean something to him.”
I feel my cheeks warm, but before I can respond, she adds, “He’s literally one of the sweetest guys I know in the club, but —” she pauses, her tone softening just slightly— “and I say this as nicely as I can because you seem cool as hell—don’t hurt him.”
Her words hit like a challenge, and for a moment, I bristle at the implication. But then I see the sincerity in her expression, the protective undertone, and I understand. If I were in her position, I’d say the same thing.
“Jesus, Jenny, chill out,” Carlie grumbles from across the kitchen.
Jenny shrugs, unrepentant. “I’m just saying.”
Carlie gives her a pointed look. “I know what you’re saying, but you, of all people, know relationships don’t go in a straight line. They’re messy—up, down, sometimes backward and sideways. You can’t just issue ultimatums.”
Jenny nods reluctantly but adds, “I’m still saying it. Just don’t hurt him.”
The weight of her words lingers in the air, and Carlie, sensing the tension, steps in again. “We know being with a man in an MC isn’t like dating some regular guy. It’s tough—it comes with a lot of challenges, especially in a club like this one that isn’t always playing by the rules. You just have to be honest with yourself about what you want. And if you don’t think you can deal with it, that’s okay. But Jax… he really is one of the best. Sweet, supportive, always putting everyone else first.”
I cross my arms, looking around at the group of women who clearly care deeply about the men they’ve tied their lives to. There’s no hostility in their words, just a quiet fierceness born of love and loyalty.
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” I say finally. “Hell, I’d do the same thing for my sisters. And yeah, Jax seems like one in a million. But I don’t know how I feel yet. I promise I won’t purposely hurt him, though.”
Jenny studies me for a second before nodding. “Fair enough.”
Carlie places a hand on my arm, her smile softer now. “That’s all we can ask. Just… take care of him, okay?”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Okay.”
As we finish putting away the food, the conversation shifts to lighter topics, but the weight of what they’ve said stays with me. It’s clear how much these women care about Jax, and I can’t help but wonder what it says about him—and maybe about us—that they’re already pulling me into their circle.