Chapter 25
Boone
The engine dies with a low, rattling growl beneath me, the vibration fading through the bike’s frame and into the gravel beneath the tires.
For a second, everything feels still in that strange way it only does after a long ride, like my body hasn’t quite caught up with the fact that we’ve stopped moving.
I swing my leg over the bike and plant my boots on the ground, rolling my shoulders once as the tension from the ride loosens in slow increments. The late afternoon heat lingers, but it’s softer now, the sun dipping lower, casting long shadows across the compound.
I look at Jessy, fast asleep in the sidecar, lulled by the motion of the drive, unafraid and fearless. Her small body is curled into itself, helmet tipped slightly forward, chin tucked down in that way kids do when they fall asleep somewhere they weren’t supposed to.
The tightness in my chest loosens as I watch her innocent, sleeping face. I crouch beside the sidecar, my movements slow, careful, like any sudden shift might break her fragile, peaceful slumber.
“Come on, kiddo,” I murmur softly, even though I know she won’t wake.
I slide my hands under her, one at her back, the other beneath her knees, lifting her out in one smooth motion. She shifts slightly against me, her arms instinctively curling inward, her head dropping against my shoulder. So trusting. That feeling never gets old.
Behind me, I hear Cruz cut his engine, the sharp, familiar sound fading into silence. Gravel crunches under his boots as he dismounts, and a second later I hear Sloane’s soft laugh.
“She didn’t even stir,” Cruz says, looking at Jessy.
“She’s exhausted,” Sloane replies, her voice warm, threaded with something softer now that I don’t hear as often as I used to. She’s relaxed.
I glance over my shoulder. Sloane’s just swung off the back of Cruz’s bike, one hand still resting lightly on his shoulder for balance, the other pushing her hair back from her face.
The sun has left its mark on her skin, a faint flush across her cheeks, the bridge of her nose just touched with pink, her shoulders slightly warmer in tone where the sun caught her despite the sunscreen.
She looks lighter. Not untouched by everything we’ve been through, but not weighed down by it either. Alive. Happy. Relaxed in a way I haven’t seen in weeks.
Cruz grins at her. “You’re getting good on the back,” he says. “Couple more rides, and we’ll have you riding your own.”
She huffs a soft laugh, raising an eyebrow. “That’s optimistic.”
“It’s true,” he insists. “You’re a natural.”
She glances between him and Rook, who’s just cutting his engine a few feet ahead of us, already scanning the compound out of habit. “I don’t know about that,” she says. “I’m still pretty sure I’m going to fall off and die, especially when I ride with you.”
Cruz chuckles, well aware of his tendency to ride too fast. “You won’t,” Cruz says easily.
“We’ll teach you,” Rook adds, his voice calm, certain.
Sloane’s eyes flick to him, then back to Cruz, and something like excitement sparks there beneath the hesitation. “Okay, but I am a little terrified,” she admits.
“Good,” Cruz says. “Makes it more fun.”
She laughs again, shaking her head. “Of course you’d say that.”
I shift Jessy slightly in my arms, adjusting her weight so she settles more comfortably against me, her breath warm against my neck.
“This one will be riding before you know it,” I say quietly. “Never known a kid so unafraid in the sidecar.”
Sloane’s gaze softens when it lands on Jessy. “I don’t doubt that.”
We move toward the clubhouse together. The door opens before we reach it, a prospect holding it open wide like royalty has arrived. One of the guys inside spots Jessy immediately and lifts a hand, signaling the others as I carry her inside.
The noise drops, not completely, but enough that they won’t wake her.
Voices lower. The guys playing snooker hold up their cues, balls slowly rolling to a stop.
They wait respectfully for us to pass. The gesture matters, it shows how much this little girl has wormed her way into the hearts of hardened tough guys.
We don’t stop to talk, don’t linger. We nod our acknowledgments, making a beeline for the stairs. As the door swings shut behind us, the noise resumes, like a spell has been broken.
Each step I take up the stairs is deliberate, careful, my boots quiet against the wood despite their weight. Jessy stirs once, a soft sound slipping from her lips, but she doesn’t wake.
Sloane stays close behind me. I can feel her there without looking; her presence has a way of settling into my awareness like it’s always belonged there.
I push open Jessy’s ajar bedroom door with my shoulder.
The room is dim, the curtains drawn just enough to keep the worst of the light out.
I move to the bed and lower Jessy down slowly, easing her onto the mattress like she might break if I move too fast. She shifts again, one hand reaching out blindly. I catch it, holding it for a second.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur.
Her fingers relax. I tug off her shoes and place them neatly by the bed. She sighs softly, turning onto her side, settling deeper into sleep.
For a second, I just stand there watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest, making sure she’s really here. Really safe. That we didn’t imagine getting her back, I tell myself that she’s not going to disappear the second I look away.
“She looks peaceful.” Sloane’s voice is soft behind me.
I glance back at her. She’s leaning lightly against the doorframe, watching us, something in her expression I don’t have a name for, some deep-seated emotion only a mother has for her children.
“She is,” I say.
Sloane quietly steps closer, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to my mouth.
It catches me off guard. Not the kiss itself, they happen often enough now, it’s the way she looks at me after.
“You’re a great dad,” she says.
I’m still getting used to being called that.
I like it more than I ever thought I would.
I’d convinced myself that a family wasn’t on the cards for me.
I feel blessed that Jessy sees me as her dad.
I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to have more kids running around the place, kids with Sloane’s sharp mind and kind heart.
I almost voice the thought out loud before catching myself.
But she sees it, and her brow lifts slightly. “What are you thinking?”
I shake my head once. “Nothing.”
She studies me. “Would you want one?” she asks softly. “A child of your own.”
I glance at Jessy, then back at her. “I’d love more kids,” I say honestly. The words come easily. “Whether they’re mine or not.”
Her expression softens further. “But…” she prompts.
I exhale slowly. “But this?” I gesture lightly between us. “Jessy. You. The guys. Us.” I take her hands in mine, kissing the knuckles. “It’s enough.”
She nods slowly, and I know she understands exactly what I mean without me needing to elaborate. She always does. “Come on,” she says quietly. “Let’s go tell the others.”
The kitchen is warm and welcoming, and the radio plays quietly in the background. Cruz is leaning against the counter, drinking a beer. Rook stands nearby, arms crossed, waiting. They both look at Sloane as we walk in, turning like sunflowers to the sun.
“What did Alvarez say?” Cruz asks. They’re too impatient to ease into the conversation. We’ve been dying to know what the call was about since she hung up and announced it was time for us to go home.
Sloane steps into the room fully, a grin stretching across her lips that makes my heart swell with relief. “It’s official,” she says. “Briggs is being charged federally.”
“Yeah?” Cruz says, a grin breaking across his face.
“There’s enough evidence to take him down, and to tie him to Escar,” she continues.
Rook’s shoulders loosen slightly, something in his expression settling into something close to satisfaction. “Seriously?”
“Yes.” The word stammers as she laughs with relief, nodding.
Cruz lets out a whoop and pulls her into a hug. “Hell yeah, lawyer.”
Rook steps in next, wrapping an arm around her, pulling her close. “Good work,” he says quietly.
I move in last, pulling her into me, holding her there for a second longer than I probably should. “Proud of you,” I murmur.
She exhales softly against me. “There’s still a long way to go,” she says when we pull back. “This could take years to prosecute fully.”
“That’s fine,” Cruz says. “He’s in the system now. That’s what matters.”
She nods. “I’m going to be fully involved in the case. Alvarez wants me to work as a prosecutor on his team.”
That lands differently. I feel guilty for the disappointment it evokes.
“You’ll be busy,” I say. It’s not a question, it’s a fact.
I won’t stop Sloane from saying yes. I want this for her, but I’m aware that this might take her away from us more than I want.
It will take her away from the idea, the sapling of hope I had, that maybe our little family could grow.
“My priority is still here,” she says firmly. “It won’t change us. I will always put our family first and make sure I have enough time for you, for us. For Jessy. And…” she adds, glancing at Rook briefly before looking back at all of us, “We were talking earlier… about maybe coming off protection.”
For a second, I forget to breathe.
“But that’s not just my decision,” she continues. “Or Rook’s. It has to be unanimous.”
Cruz straightens slightly. “You’re serious?”
She nods. “Yes.”
Rook’s gaze sharpens. “You know it could take time.”
“I do.”
I nod slowly, not wanting to get my hopes up. “It might not happen at all.”
“I know that too.” Of course, Sloane has considered everything. “And you all need to know that you might not be the biological father, no matter how many kids we have.”
“They’d still be ours, all of ours,” I say quietly. “Just like Jessy.”
Sloane nods, reaching out to squeeze my hand.
Silence stretches as we contemplate what this means. Cruz grins, the first to break it. “Well, I’m in.”
Rook nods once. “Yeah, me too.”
I look at her. I take in everything. I think of everything she is, everything we’ve built, everything we could still have. “I’m in too,” I say.
There’s no hesitation in any of us. We’ve got a long road ahead of us, but this feels like the beginning of everything, the start of a new road. I can’t wait to ride it with Sloane.