Chapter 39 #2
“Jesus Christ,” Boone muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“River!” Nessie turned around on her stool to smack his arm. “There’s a child present.”
“What’s laid?” Oliver asked, popping up from under the table.
“Okay, so when two people—” River began, but Jonah cut him off with a well-aimed dish towel to the face.
“It’s a very boring adult thing,” Nessie told her son, shooting River a death glare.
He just shrugged it off. “Kid’ll find out about it sooner or later.”
“Later,” Jax and Nessie said at the same time.
“Prudes.” He snorted and turned back to the stove with a grin.
River may pretend to be all chaos, but behind that grin was a calculating man. He’d known exactly what he was doing by bringing up sex in a way that would intrigue Oliver—shifting the topic, brightening the mood.
Anson watched the tension drain from Maggie’s shoulders, saw Jax’s jaw unclench. River caught his eye across the kitchen and winked, spatula still raised.
Smart bastard.
“Pancakes will be ready soon,” he announced.
“Unfortunately,” Bear grumbled.
“Hey, you don’t like them, you don’t have to take any.” River slapped a stack of misshapen pancakes onto a serving plate and brought them to the table with a flourish. “Bon appétit, losers.”
“They look... creative,” Maggie offered diplomatically.
“That’s one word for it,” Jonah muttered.
The food made its way around. The misshapen pancakes that somehow managed to be both burned and undercooked, bacon that had survived King’s attempts at theft, eggs that at least looked normal.
Throughout breakfast, his brothers checked on Maggie without making it obvious.
Jonah refilled her water glass before she’d even emptied it.
River aimed his most ridiculous jokes her way, coaxing genuine laughter past the pain in her throat.
X shifted his guitar playing to something softer when Kavik’s howling made her wince slightly.
Even Bear, usually so stoic, caught Anson’s eye over Maggie’s head with a look that spoke volumes: She’s pack now. We’ve got her.
Naomi reached across Ghost to squeeze Maggie’s hand, a brief touch that said more than words could.
“So,” River said conversationally with his mouth full of pancake, “how was everyone’s Christmas? Mine was eventful. Taught Goose a new trick, fixed Walker’s truck, and helped take down a psycho ex-boyfriend. You know, festive stuff.”
“River,” Boone warned.
But Maggie just shook her head. “It’s okay. Honestly, I’d rather joke about it than tiptoe around it.”
“That’s the spirit,” River said, raising his coffee mug. “To Bramble and his heroic jaws of justice.”
“To Bramble,” the table echoed, and the wolfhound raised his head at the sound of his name, mildly confused by the sudden attention.
“I didn’t know dogs could bite that hard,” Oliver said, having crawled back under the table to hang out with the dogs. “Mom says Bramble’s a good boy even though he bit someone.”
“Bramble is a very good boy who protected Miss Maggie,” Nessie agreed.
“Is she your girlfriend now?” Oliver asked, popping up beside Anson and fixing him with the direct, guileless stare only children can manage. “X says she is.”
“Thanks, X,” Anson muttered.
X just grinned and strummed a chord. “De nada, hermano.”
“Yes,” he told Oliver, surprising himself with the ease of the admission. “She is.”
“Cool.” Oliver nodded, satisfied, then ducked back under the table.
“Oliver James Harmon,” Nessie scolded, “what are you doing under there?”
A suspicious crunching sound answered her.
“He’s feeding the dogs,” Jax reported, peering under the tablecloth.
“Oliver!”
“They’re hungry!”
“They’ve already been fed,” Nessie said, exasperated. “You’ll make them fat.”
“Nah, Kavik needs the calories,” X said. “He’s skin and bones.”
“That dog is nowhere near skin and bones,” Bear said, watching Bramble accept a piece of pancake with the solemnity of receiving communion and King scarf his without breathing. “And King is getting a damn gut.”
“He’s just fluffy,” River protested.
“He’s a food thief, is what he is.” Bear lunged as King’s jaws closed around a piece of bacon that had been left momentarily unguarded. “Dammit, King!”
The Leonberger dove under the table with his prize, nearly upending X’s coffee in the process.
Kavik, sensing a party, threw back his head and howled.
Goose didn’t even lift his head, too busy accepting pancake offerings from Oliver’s outstretched hand.
Echo just watched the chaos with dignified disdain, while Bramble pressed closer to Maggie’s legs, his protection duty not yet complete in his canine mind.
Maggie’s smile grew as the banter flowed around her.
She laughed at River’s terrible jokes and helped Nessie try to extract Oliver and several hundred pounds of dog from under the table.
When breakfast dissolved into X and River arguing about cleanup duty while Bear physically dragged King away from another bacon heist attempt, she rose to help Ghost and Naomi clear plates.
She fit here, as if she’d always been part of this strange, cobbled-together family.
Us.
“You good?” Jax asked quietly, sliding into the chair Maggie had vacated.
Anson nodded, surprised to find it wasn’t a lie. “Yeah.”
“Scary shit, what happened yesterday,” Jax said, Echo pressing against his leg as if sensing the shift in conversation. “But she’s strong.”
“Stronger than me,” Anson admitted.
“Nah.” Jax shook his head. “Different kind of strong, maybe. You two fit.”
Across the kitchen, Maggie glanced back at him, a smile playing at her lips as she helped dry dishes. The bruises on her throat were still visible, a reminder of how close he’d come to losing her before he’d even fully admitted she was his to lose.
But she was here.
Safe.
Surrounded by people who would die to protect her simply because she mattered to him.
Because he mattered to them.
This, he realized, was what he wanted for his future. Not the solitary perfection of his forge, but this messy, loud, imperfect, and absolutely worth fighting for family. A family pieced together from broken parts, strong at the seams where they’d been mended with gold and trust and second chances.
“Yeah,” he told Jax, his eyes never leaving Maggie. “We do.”