6. Diesel #3
We check out and load the bags into my truck. Amelia chatters the whole drive to the clubhouse, telling me about her new friend at school, about the book she's reading, about how her teacher said she has "excellent penmanship."
I listen to all of it. File it away. This kid wandered into my life seven months ago and somehow became the center of it.
Her and her mom both.
The clubhouse kitchen is already chaos when we walk in.
Gracie's at the stove, stirring a massive pot, her hair piled up in a clip and one of my old t-shirts hanging off her shoulder. She's got that look she gets when she's in command — focused, a little fierce, completely in her element.
"More cumin," Rogue says, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed.
"It doesn't need more cumin."
"It absolutely needs more cumin. Last time—"
"Last time was perfect, and you ate three bowls, so I don't want to hear it."
Lock appears in the doorway, sniffs the air, and grunts. "Needs more heat."
"It does not need more heat. Ghost nearly died last time."
From somewhere in the main room, Ghost's voice drifts in: "I didn't nearly die. I just couldn't feel my tongue for two days."
"Exactly." Gracie points her wooden spoon at Lock. "No more heat."
I set the grocery bags on the counter, and she turns to me with a smile that still hits me right in the chest.
"You get everything?"
"Everything on the list."
She starts unpacking — beans, tomatoes, peppers, onions. Then she stops. Pulls out the cereal box. Looks at it. Looks at me.
"What's this?"
I shrug. "Must've fallen in the cart."
"Fallen." She's fighting a smile now. "All by itself."
Amelia appears at my elbow, radiating innocence. "I have no idea how that happened."
Gracie looks between us — the seven-year-old con artist and the grown man she's got wrapped around her finger. Then she laughs and shakes her head.
"You two are a menace."
"But you love us," Amelia says.
"Yeah." Gracie ruffles her hair. "I do. Now go wash your hands and help Bella set the table."
Amelia bounces off, and I catch Gracie around the waist before she can turn back to the stove.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself." She leans into me, her back against my chest. "Thanks for the supplies."
"Thanks for feeding my brothers. Pretty sure they'd starve without you."
"They absolutely would. Have you seen what Ghost considers a meal? It's criminal."
I press a kiss to the side of her neck, and she hums softly, relaxing into me.
Through the doorway, I can see the main room filling up — King and Demi in the corner, his arm slung over her shoulders.
Rogue arguing with Lock about something.
Bella and Josie helping Amelia with napkins while she chatters at them nonstop.
Family. All of it.
"Diesel?"
"Yeah?"
Gracie turns in my arms, looking up at me with an expression I can't quite read. Nervous, maybe. Excited.
"I need to tell you something."
My gut tightens. "Okay."
She takes my hand and presses it flat against her stomach. Low. Deliberate.
For a second, I don't understand. Then I do.
"Gracie."
"I found out last week." Her voice is barely a whisper. "I wanted to wait for the right moment, but—"
I kiss her.
I don't know what else to do. My brain's short-circuiting, my chest is too full, and there aren't words for what I'm feeling. So I kiss her, deep and slow, until we're both breathless.
"I take it you're happy?" she asks when we break apart.
"Happy." I shake my head. "I'm forty-two years old. I thought this part of life had passed me by. I thought—" I stop. Try again. "Yeah. I'm happy."
She laughs, her eyes bright with tears. "Good. Because you're stuck with us now."
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
"Ew, are you guys kissing again?" Amelia's voice rings out from the doorway. "The chili's going to burn!"
Gracie pulls away with a grin. "Duty calls."
I let her go back to the stove, but I don't move. Just stand there, watching her stir the pot while Amelia supervises, watching the brothers file in and take their seats, watching this life I never expected unfold around me.
Seven months ago, a woman with scared eyes moved in next door.
Now she's carrying my kid, her daughter calls me by name, and I'm surrounded by family I'd die for.
Gracie catches me looking and raises an eyebrow. "What?"
"Nothing." I cross to the stove and wrap my arms around her from behind, my palm resting where our baby is growing. "Just thinking about how glad I am you moved in next door."
She leans back into me. "Best decision I ever made."
"Second best," I correct her. "The first was watching me through your kitchen window."
She laughs and swats my arm. "I'm never going to live that down, am I?"
"Not a chance."
She's still laughing when the chili's ready.
And later that night, when we're home and Amelia's asleep and Gracie's curled against my chest in our bed, I think about the man I was before her. The one who thought he'd missed his shot.
I was wrong.
This is everything.
She's everything.