Epilogue
LUCY
Two years later
I pull into the driveway of our house on the compound as the sun sits low in the sky, painting the front porch in a warm, golden glow that makes the whole place look like home.
Wyatt and Weston built this house exactly like Tiny and I sketched it five years ago, right down to the big windows that let in plenty of light and the wide porch that holds two rocking chairs where we sit most evenings, talking quietly as the compound winds down.
I cut the engine and sit for a minute, my scrubs still carrying that sharp hospital scent while my feet ache from the long shift, even though my heart feels full and satisfied.
The front door opens before I even reach the steps.
Tiny steps out wearing his usual jeans and black shirt, his eyes finding mine right away.
That look he gives me never changes. It makes my chest tighten with love every single time.
He walks down the steps quickly and pulls me into his arms before I can say a word, lifting me slightly off the ground as he buries his face in my hair.
“Long day, Buttercup?” he asks, his voice low and rough like always. “Tell me you kicked ass out there. I missed you like hell today.”
I lean into his solid chest, listening to the steady thud of his heartbeat under my ear. “Busy but good. One little boy finally went home after weeks in my unit. His mom cried happy tears right there in the hallway.”
Tiny kisses the top of my head, his big hand rubbing my back slowly and soothingly.
“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, pride thick in his voice as he holds me even tighter.
“Making a fucking difference every damn shift. I don’t know how you do it, Buttercup, but I’m so proud of you.
You amaze me every single day.” I feel the depth of his pride in the way he squeezes me, like he never wants to let go.
We walk inside together, the house smelling deliciously like the chicken he has cooking in the oven.
Toys are scattered across the living room rug from when the club kids came over yesterday, and I kick off my shoes before sinking onto the couch with a tired sigh.
Tiny sits right beside me and pulls my feet into his lap without me asking, his thumbs pressing into the sore spots just right.
“You spoil me rotten,” I say with a smile, watching his face.
He looks at me seriously, eyes intense. “You work hard, Buttercup. You deserve it and more. I’d rub these pretty feet every night for the rest of my life if it kept that smile on your face.
” His hands keep moving steadily while he looks content, the lines around his eyes relaxed.
This life we built together agrees with him beautifully.
My phone buzzes on the table. A text from Scarlett lights up the screen. “Girls night at the clubhouse tomorrow. Tessa is bringing her famous cookies. Hadley says she has new baby pictures. You in?”
I laugh softly and read it out loud to Tiny. He chuckles deeply. “Tell them yes. I’ll be in Church anyway. You girls keep each other sane. Lord knows I need my Buttercup happy and laughing when she comes home to me.”
I text back quickly. These women have become my best friends over the years.
Scarlett with her sharp humor, Tessa who survived so much and still loves so deeply, Hadley who keeps the twins on their toes, and Erica who found her strength beside Steele.
We lean on each other through long shifts, club drama, and everything in between. They feel like sisters now.
Tiny finishes rubbing my feet and pulls me closer, his strong arm wrapping around my shoulders. “I’m so proud of you, Lucy,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “Registered nurse for over a year now. The hospital knows they got a damn good one. My wife. My Buttercup.”
Heat rises in my cheeks. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You drove me to every class, stayed up late when I studied, made sure I ate…”
He shakes his head and cups my face gently. “You did the hard part, baby. I just loved you through it. Like I always will.”
We eat dinner at the kitchen table, the chicken tasting perfect as Tiny listens intently while I tell him about my patients. He shares what happened at the garage today, his hands gesturing animatedly.
After we clean up, I stand at the sink rinsing plates when a sudden wave of nausea hits me.
I grip the counter tightly until it passes quickly, but it leaves me thinking.
I’ve felt off for a week, tired in a way I’ve never felt before.
I bought a couple of tests yesterday and hid it in my bag.
My hands shake a little as I dry them now.
I turn to Tiny, watching him wipe the table, his shoulders moving easily under his shirt.
Love for him swells in my chest until it hurts.
“I need to run to the bathroom real quick,” I say, keeping my voice steady enough.
He nods. “Take your time, Buttercup. I’ll make us some tea.”
In the bathroom I pull out the test. My heart pounds while I wait the three minutes.
The two lines appear clear and unmistakable.
Positive. I set it carefully on the counter and stare at it as tears blur my vision.
Joy rushes through me so strongly my knees feel weak.
A baby. Our baby. But panic hits right after.
What if it’s wrong? I grab the second test with shaky hands.
When I try to open it, I fumble the stick completely.
It slips through my fingers, bounces off the sink, and plops straight into the toilet with a splash.
“No, no, no!” I whisper-yell, staring in horror at the ruined second test. I break down instantly, ugly crying over the toilet while the first positive test sits right there on the counter. A second later the bathroom door flies open.
Tiny stands there, eyes wide with panic.
“Buttercup? What the hell—” His gaze lands on the positive test still sitting on the counter.
“What the fuck is this?” He snatches it up, stares at the two clear lines, then looks at me sobbing over the toilet.
“Lucy… are you saying you’re pregnant? The stick says positive. ”
I nod through my tears, half laughing, half crying. “Yes. The second one fell in the toilet. But the first one is positive. I’m pretty sure we’re having a baby.”
Tiny blinks once, then his whole face splits into the biggest, wildest grin I’ve ever seen.
He hauls me up off the floor and crushes me against his chest, laughing loud and deep while I’m still sniffling.
“You’re pregnant? Holy fuck, Buttercup. We’re really having a baby?
” He pulls back just enough to cup my face with both hands, thumbs wiping away my tears.
“I don’t need the damn second stick. I believe you. ”
I nod, fresh happy tears spilling over. Tiny kisses me hard, then drops to his knees right there on the bathroom floor and presses his forehead to my stomach. “Hey little one,” he murmurs, voice cracking. “Daddy’s already here. And I’m never letting either of you go.”
“You’re going to be the best dad,” I whisper. “Protective, patient, the kind who teaches our kid to ride bikes, fix engines, and stand up for what’s right.”
He laughs softly, the sound vibrating through me, but there’s wild joy in it. “And you’re going to be the best mom. Smart, kind, and strong as hell. Our kid is lucky already.”
We stand there holding each other for a long time. His hands move to my stomach gently, fingers spread wide like he can already feel the life growing there. “I waited years for you, Buttercup. Now this… it feels like everything I ever wanted landed right here in my arms.”
Later that night, the house is quiet except for the soft chirping of crickets drifting through the open window.
We lie tangled in bed, skin still warm from the shower we shared.
Tiny hasn’t stopped touching me since I told him.
His large hand stays possessively splayed over my stomach, thumb stroking slow, lazy circles that send little sparks of heat racing across my skin.
Every caress feels heavier now, more intentional, like he’s already claiming the new life inside me along with my body.
The air between us thickens, charged with a deep, needy hunger that builds steadily until my breath comes faster and his grows rougher against my neck.
He rolls toward me, eyes dark with raw need and wonder, pupils blown wide.
“Buttercup…” His voice is low and gravelly, almost reverent as his hand slides lower, fingertips teasing along the edge of my panties.
“You’re carrying my baby. Fuck, I’ve never wanted you more.
” He leans in, capturing my mouth in a slow, filthy kiss that leaves me dizzy, his tongue stroking mine while his palm cups me possessively between my thighs.
“Feel how wet you already are for me? This sweet pussy knows exactly who it belongs to.”
I arch into his touch, moaning softly as he slips two thick fingers inside me, curling them just right.
Tiny groans against my lips, grinding his hard cock against my thigh.
“Goddamn, you feel so perfect. So tight and soaked. This pussy’s mine.
Always has been, always will be. Gonna fill you up every night while you’re growing our baby, Buttercup.
Keep you full and dripping with my cum.”
He moves over me, settling between my thighs and pushing in slowly, inch by thick inch, until he’s buried to the hilt.
We both moan loudly. His rhythm starts deep and deliberate, but quickly turns harder, more desperate.
“That’s it, baby. Take every inch like the good girl you are,” he growls, hips snapping.
“You’re gonna look so fucking hot all round and pregnant with my kid.
Everyone’s gonna know I bred you deep. That I claimed this sweet little pussy so thoroughly. ”