Chapter 8 #2
We tackled them one by one, keeping the ever-growing list on our fridge held by a magnet we bought in Canada on a hiking trip.
It’s shaped like a tiny maple leaf and reminds me of our time there, on my very first holiday ever.
The staircase creaks softly as I head upstairs to get dressed.
Vox insisted we keep as much of the original structure as we could.
Brick walls meet white paint, old woods mixing with modern finishes.
When I look at my house, I see our story and the beginning of a new chapter.
I will never forget the day he told me this place was ours.
He parked the car and walked me up the path, keys hidden in his fist, then he took my hand, opened my palm, and placed the key in it, closing my fingers around the metal.
“Our home,” he signed. Tears poured down my cheeks before I could stop them, and I know this is where I’ll go one day when I take a spin down memory lane.
Almost ready, I stand in front of the mirror and add a bit of mascara, careful not to poke my eye, which happened a lot at the beginning.
I chose my favourite blue flare jeans and a light blue sweater that slides off one shoulder.
Two large hands land on my waist, anchoring me.
He drops a kiss on my exposed shoulder, his lips lingering for a moment.
“Hey,” he murmurs. We stand together facing the mirror, him towering behind.
His short chocolate hair slightly disheveled in that way that I love.
Tattoos creep from under his navy collar and lick up the side of his neck.
Every line and curve is familiar to me now, like the pages of a book I know by heart.
“Ready?” he asks.
I sign, “Almost.” He moves around me, circling to his side of the sink.
His toothbrush sits in its exact spot near the soap, always the same distance from his razor.
He nudges it back into alignment by a fraction of an inch, barely noticeable unless you know him.
I smile into the mirror. My man has his quirks.
At first, he tried to hide them, but it became all too apparent how much he needed to keep things in order.
It took him a bit of time to understand that I didn’t mind.
That I loved him exactly as he was, with all his habits and lines and rules.
I guess marriage might have started there for us, long before we ever spoke about rings or vows.
In seeing the other fully and remaining anyway.
Just like his love for me translates into little acts, every single day.
I have woken up in the middle of the night to find a dim light near the armchair by my side of the bed.
He would sit there with his phone, replaying sign language videos again and again, copying each movement until his hands remembered.
His face looked so focused, brows drawn, lips moving as if he was sounding out silent words.
Back when I used to seek shelter at his place, I would catch glimpses of him watching me sleep from that same chair.
Maybe his underworld, as he calls it, was too bloody sometimes.
He once told me that watching over me felt like looking at his heart sleeping outside of his body and that he needed to make sure it kept beating.
I finish with the mascara and tap twice on his shoulder.
Two taps have become a small signal I use whenever I am ready, whether we are leaving a place or done with a task.
He straightens and we head downstairs together.
I grab my navy coat and brown boots. He slides into his black vest, the fabric stretching over his muscular shoulders.
A large cream scarf hangs from the mantel.
He picks it up and wraps it carefully around my neck until the ends hang down my chest.
“It’s cold outside, angel,” he says, tucking the scarf in slightly. I squeeze his hand twice once I finish buttoning my coat. He squeezes back, his gaze sweeping over me like I am one of the seven wonders.
“Ice skating, here we come,” he says, pulling the door open.
Winter air rushes in, sharp against our faces.
The sky is pale, our breath coming out in little clouds, and somewhere inside me a new kind of excitement unfurls.
We step out together, fingers intertwined, leaving our home behind for a little while.
Ice-skating with my fiancé.
Another box on the list ready to be ticked.
Vox
“I’m regretting this,” I sign, eyeing left and right for any fucker who could land in her on the ice.
“Don’t,” she signs with a silent giggle. “Look, I’m-oh, ooh-” she mouths, arms flailing a little as she tries to find her balance.
“Gotcha,” I say, grabbing her firmly by the waist before she can go down. She laughs silently, eyes shining.
“Alright, it’s harder than it looks, but I love it, really.” Her cheeks are flushed from the cold, and I struggle watching her fingers turn red from the Seattle winter.
“You could get hurt,” I mutter, tightening my grip, steering us slowly away from a group of kids whizzing past.
She looks up at me, steady and sure. “No, because you’re here,” she signs, taking my heart and folding it into her pocket.
“Nah, I don’t like this,” I grumble, even as I keep her upright, skating backward in small, careful pushes.
“Wait. Just five more minutes,” she signs quickly, fingers brushing my jacket for emphasis.
“Okay,” I sigh, giving in like I always do with my girl, “but then we’re out. I’m not having you at the hospital the day before our wedding.”
“It’s so fun,” she mouths as her ankle gives way.
She slips, her feet shooting forward, and I catch her again, one arm under her back, the other under her knees, her laughter shaking through both of us even if no sound comes out.
She giggles silently, shoulders trembling, eyes bright with the joy of trying something new…
and maybe also from watching me eye her like she’s made of glass.
If I’m like this with her now, there’s no doubt I’ll be just as protective as a father.
“Hey,” she tugs at my jacket, boots sliding a little as she steadies herself again. “Where’d you go?” she signs, head tilted.
“Uh?” I blink, shaking myself from my thoughts.
“You were drifting away…” she signs with a half smile, looking at me with that familiar look, the one that reads every corner of my mind.
“Nothing, it’s…” I sign, eyes flicking down to our joined hands. “I was thinking about…when we’ll have kids one day.”
I catch her studying me for a second before she signs again. “I hope…we’ll bring them here,” glancing around the rink, at the kids clinging to the rail, the parents skating behind them with open hands.
“Of course, sweetheart,” I mutter, nodding, my voice turning into a murmur.
No doubt I’d take a bullet for my girl. That’s already carved in stone.
But when I think of our kids, of tiny versions of Rose running in the garden with Harley, their chubby fingers grabbing at her skirt, I can’t help wondering how I’ll ever sleep again.
A normal guy could have kids and not think twice ‘bout it. I’m the VP of a motorcycle club with enemies festering in every corner of the country.
The more people I love, the more they could wind up in harm’s way.
Maybe when the time comes, I’ll have to hire bodyguards, just to be sure.
It already crossed my mind for Rose, but she convinced me not to.
Said it would freak her out to have another man she didn’t know hanging around her all the time.
With her past, I get it. And since we’ve had no issues since moving here, I forced myself to relax a bit.
I’m not gonna lie, though. When things get violent at work, when some of our men come back bruised or don’t come back at all, when threats pile up, and our expansion is louder than what some people think we should be chewing on, I sleep less.
On those nights, I watch over my girl with my gun on my lap.
Eyes on her. Day and night. Whether it’s tracking her phone and watching the signal on the app I installed, or checking the GPS chip hidden in the necklace I gave her, or simply holding her in my arms while she’s in deep sleep and I’m half-awake, on alert.
The Raven Sons are expanding, and it’s not to the taste of other families and Chapters from the area. For now, we have enough men in our ranks to establish our superiority. The gains surpass the losses and I’ll always make sure they do.
“Hey.” She tugs at my jacket again, spinning us in a small, clumsy circle on the ice. Her skates squeak slightly as she corrects her balance. She’s looking at me with that knowing gaze. The one that knows there are rooms inside my mind I don’t like opening, even for myself.
“Everything is okay,” she signs, “I’m happy.
I’m safe and so are you.” She pauses, eyes locked on mine.
“And if…I mean, when we have children, they’ll be safe too.
Trust me.” I nod because, of course, she’s right.
It’ll be a two-person job, and I’d bet every dollar in our accounts that my girl will be fierce when it comes to our little ones.
Especially after what she had to go through.
The thought eases my mind a bit. Rose and I are a team; we’ll face anything as long as we’re together.
So yeah, she’s right.
Ice skating with our kids does sound great.