Epilogue - Kelly
Three Years Later
"James Davidson, if you throw those peas on the floor one more time, Mommy is going to be very upset with you."
My two-year-old son grins at me, his dark eyes, so like his father's, sparkling with mischief. He's got a fistful of peas poised and ready to launch, but at my stern look, he reluctantly drops them back onto his high chair tray.
"Good choice, little man," I say, ruffling his thick black hair before turning back to the stove where chicken is sizzling in a pan.
I'm still not the world's greatest cook, but I've improved significantly since those first disastrous months of marriage when I nearly burned down our kitchen trying to make lasagna.
Our kitchen. Our home. Even after three years, I sometimes have to pinch myself to believe this is all real. The modest but beautiful house on the outskirts of Pine Haven, the thriving flower shop downtown, my gorgeous son, and the man who made it all possible.
Second Bloom opened two years ago with the help of a loan from the club. Reaper had waved away my tearful thanks, gruffly explaining that investing in local businesses was "good for the community." But I knew the truth. I was family now, and the Outlaw Order takes care of its own.
The shop has flourished beyond my wildest dreams. It turns out Pine Haven had been desperately in need of a second quality florist. Between weddings, funerals, holidays, and everyday orders, I've had to hire two part-time assistants to keep up with demand.
Amy comes by several times a week to help, though she insists it's just to "keep an eye on her little sister.
" The transformation in her over the past three years has been nothing short of miraculous.
After six months of intensive therapy and rehab following her rescue, she slowly found her way back to herself—stronger, wiser, and determined to reclaim her life.
No one was more surprised than me when she and Viper fell for each other the moment they met. The club's youngest member with his quick smile and deadly skills seemed an unlikely match for my cautious, suspicious sister.
Whatever it was, watching them together at the clubhouse…
Her quiet laugh at his outrageous stories, his protective stance whenever she's near, it's clear they've found something real.
They've been living together in his cabin at the edge of town for almost two years now, and the happiness radiating from Amy is all the approval I need.
The rescue mission that brought us all together still haunts my dreams sometimes.
The sound of gunfire, the smell of smoke as parts of the compound burned, Blade's face spattered with blood as he shot down anyone who stood between us and Amy.
And Charles's final moments—his cold eyes widening in shock as he died, ending his reign of terror once and for all.
"Justice," Blade had called it as we watched the compound burn in our rearview mirrors. Not revenge, not murder. Justice.
The sound of a motorcycle pulling into our driveway snaps me from my memories. James immediately perks up, recognizing the distinctive rumble of his father's Harley.
"Daddy!" he squeals, smacking his hands on the tray.
"Yes, Daddy's home," I confirm, turning down the heat under the chicken and wiping my hands on a dish towel. "Let's go say hello."
I lift James from his high chair, settling him on my hip as we head to the front door. We reach it just as it opens, revealing my husband's imposing figure silhouetted against the setting sun.
The smile forming on my lips freezes when I see the state of him. His knuckles are bloody and raw, his t-shirt splattered with what is definitely not his own blood, and there's a dangerous glint in his eyes that I recognize all too well.
"James, honey, why don't you go play with your blocks in the living room for a minute?" I set our son down, gently steering him toward his toy corner. "Mommy needs to talk to Daddy."
James looks up at his father, completely unfazed by the blood. At two, he's already learned that sometimes Daddy comes home messy, but he's still Daddy.
"Blocks, Daddy?" he asks hopefully.
Blade's hard expression softens immediately, as it always does for our son. "In a minute, little man. Let me talk to Mommy first."
Satisfied with this promise, James toddles off to his corner, immediately engrossed in his wooden blocks.
I turn back to my husband, hands on my hips. "What happened?"
Blade shrugs, closing the door behind him. "Had to have a conversation with someone."
"A conversation that required your fists?"
"Some people don't listen to words."
I sigh, taking his battered hand in mine to examine the damage. The knuckles are split but not badly. It's familiar territory. I've cleaned and bandaged these hands more times than I can count over the past three years.
"Who was it this time?" I ask, leading him to the kitchen sink to rinse off the blood.
"Martin Dawson," he says, allowing me to hold his hand under the cool water. "Been hassling women coming out of the Bluebird Café. Following them to their cars, making threats if they don't give him their numbers."
My stomach tightens. The Bluebird is two doors down from my shop. "Has he bothered any of my customers? My employees?"
"Not that I know of. But he would have eventually." Blade's voice is matter-of-fact. "He won't be a problem anymore."
I grab the first aid kit we keep under the sink, another familiar routine.
As I clean and bandage his knuckles, I find myself torn between exasperation and gratitude.
My husband's methods may be violent, but his motives are pure.
He protects what's his, and in his mind, that extends to the entire town of Pine Haven.
"Is he still breathing?" I ask, only half-joking.
Blade's mouth quirks in that almost-smile I've come to cherish. "Yeah. But he won't be walking right for a while."
"Good." I finish taping the bandage in place, then rise on tiptoes to kiss him softly. "Thank you for protecting our town."
His arms encircle my waist, pulling me against his solid chest. Even after three years of marriage, the feel of him still makes my heart race. "Our town. Our family. Our life," he says, his deep voice rumbling through me. "I protect what's mine."
After a lifetime of feeling abandoned and unwanted, belonging to someone—belonging with someone—is the greatest gift I could have received.
"You should change before dinner," I say, reluctantly pulling away. "That shirt is a lost cause."
He glances down at the blood-spattered fabric. "Probably right."
"And you promised your son some block time."
His eyes soften as he looks over at James, who is stacking blocks with intense concentration, his little tongue poking out between his lips. "Yeah, I did."
As he moves to step away, my phone chimes with a text. I check it and smile. "That's Amy. She and Viper are coming for dinner tomorrow. She says she has news."
Blade raises an eyebrow. "News?"
I shrug, though I have my suspicions. Amy has been glowing lately, and Viper's been even more protective than usual. "We'll find out tomorrow, I guess."
"Hm." Blade's grunt could mean anything, but I detect a hint of amusement. He and Viper have grown closer since Amy entered the picture, the older man taking on something of a mentoring role to the younger.
"Oh, and Reaper called earlier," I add. "The club's anniversary party is next weekend. Emma's helping me with the flowers."
Blade nods. These annual celebrations have become important traditions, marking another year that the Outlaw Order has kept Pine Haven safe. What started as a rough-and-tumble motorcycle club has evolved into something like a family—dysfunctional at times, fiercely loyal always.
I catch his hand once more before he can leave. "Marcus."
He pauses, looking back at me with a raised eyebrow.
"I love you," I say..
"I love you too," he says, the words coming easier to him now than they once did.
He presses a kiss to my forehead before heading to our bedroom to change. I watch him go, still marveling at how much my life has transformed in three short years.
I think back to that night on the roadside, when a terrified bride in a torn wedding dress met a dangerous man with empty eyes and a loaded gun. We were both running then: me from a forced marriage, him from his own demons. Neither of us expected to find salvation in the other.
Yet here we are. A family. A home. A life built from the ashes of our broken pasts.
Second Bloom, indeed.
I turn back to the stove, stirring the chicken as I listen to the sounds of my husband and son playing in the next room. Blade's deep rumble mixing with James's delighted giggles is the sweetest music I've ever heard.
Outside our window, Pine Haven settles into evening, the sky painted in shades of orange and purple.
It's a beautiful town, made safer by the presence of the men who wear the Outlaw Order patches on their backs.
Men who most of society would cross the street to avoid, but who have created a haven for those lucky enough to fall under their protection.
Men like my husband, who walks the line between darkness and light every day, who carries violence in his hands but tenderness in his heart.
The man who saved me in every way a person can be saved, and who gave me the greatest gift of all. The chance to save him right back.
As I call my family to dinner, I send up a silent prayer of gratitude for that night three years ago when fate placed me on that lonely stretch of road, and a scarred man named Blade decided to stop.
Some might call it chance. I call it destiny.