Chapter 9
Roman / Rage POV
A few days after the park, life seemed to settle into something that almost felt normal. Almost. I was in the garage behind the clubhouse, helping Bolt rebuild an engine, when Dad walked in with a cup of coffee.
He looked happier. Not completely happy yet, but lighter. The change was small, but Bolt saw it too.
“He’s smiling again,” Bolt muttered.
Dad flipped him off right away. Bolt grinned, and I smirked. For the first time in years, hope filled that space that always felt empty. Cleo hadn’t run.
That meant more than she probably realized. Dad sat down and took a sip of his coffee.
“She still wants the DNA test.”
I shrugged. “Good.”
Dad frowned. “Good?”
“Yeah.” I wiped my hands on a rag. “It means she’s thinking.” Dad looked unconvinced.
I wasn’t worried. If Cleo wanted nothing to do with us, she would have disappeared the night she left the clubhouse. Instead, she called, met him, listened, asked questions, and wanted answers. That wasn’t rejection.
She was just trying to make sense of a huge shock, and I respected her for that. She stayed calm, thought things through, and didn’t let anyone push her.
Strong.
Quiet.
Stubborn as hell.
She was just like Dad. Not in looks, but in her eyes and personality. The older I got, the more I saw that stubbornness must be genetic. Dad had it. I had it. Cleo definitely had it, that thought made me grin. Dad narrowed his eyes at me.
“What?” He demanded.
“Nothing.” I shrugged.
He narrowed his eyes even more. I ignored him, I wasn’t about to admit I’d spent the last week noticing every trait he shared with the daughter he just found.
That conversation wasn’t happening.
----
Later that afternoon, I found myself staring at my phone. I wasn’t overthinking. I absolutely wasn’t overthinking. Across the room, Mom looked up from her book.
“You’ve been staring at that screen for five minutes.”
I glanced up. “No, I haven’t.”
“You have.” She stayed with a smirk.
I sighed. She smiled at me the way she always had since I was a kid. That look meant she already knew the answer.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
I laughed. “Language.”
She rolled her eyes. “Roman.”
There it was, my full name. I was losing this argument. I looked down at my phone again. “Lola wants to see Tommy.”
Mom’s grin widened. “Uh-huh.”
“She does.”
“Of course she does.”
I pointed at her. “She does.”
“I’m sure she does.”
I groaned, and she laughed. I hated when she was right, which was most of the time. A few minutes later, I finally sent the text.
Rage: Hey.
Three dots appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again. I found myself smiling.
Cleo: Hi.
Rage: Lola wants to know if Tommy wants to hang out after school tomorrow.
A moment later,
Cleo: Tommy says yes.
Then another message.
Cleo: And Skylar says Lola only wants Tommy because he’s funny.
I barked out a laugh. Almost immediately, another text arrived.
Cleo: She’s probably right.
For some reason, that simple exchange settled something inside me. It felt like a small piece of everything finally fell into place.
----
The next afternoon, I pulled into the school parking lot a few minutes before the final bell. Elementary school pick-up was chaos. Parents, cars, kids everywhere, and teachers trying to keep order. I saw Cleo near the gate and waved. She smiled and waved back. The bell rang, and within seconds, children poured out of the building.
Lola appeared first. Tommy wasn’t far behind. The second they spotted each other, they both took off.
“Lola!”
“Tommy!”
They met in the middle of the sidewalk like they hadn’t seen each other in months, not just a few minutes ago. I watched them do a handshake with way too many steps.
Kids were weird.
A few seconds later, Skylar came out of the older grades building with Maddox beside her. The two looked awkward enough to be ten, which probably meant they were becoming friends.
Good. The kids deserved friends, especially after everything they’d been through. By the time Lola and Tommy reached us, they were already talking over each other, leaving me face-to-face with Cleo.
It was awkward for about three seconds. Then we both spoke at the same time.
“So—”
“So—”
We stopped, looked at each other, and then laughed. The tension disappeared right away.
“Nice start,” Cleo said.
“The best.” I smirked.
Her smile widened, and just like that, things felt easier. Not perfect, not totally natural yet, but easier. The kids ran off to the small park next to the school. Lola dragged Tommy by the hand, and Maddox and Skylar followed. For a few moments, Cleo and I walked in comfortable silence, then I glanced at her.
“You know I don’t care what the DNA test says, right?”
She looked at me. Confused. “What?”
I shrugged. “I don’t.”
Her brow furrowed. “Roman.”
“There it is.”
“What?”
I grinned. “You called me Roman.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ve only known you as Rage.”
“Mom says, Roman. Dad says Roman, when he’s happy.”
“And when he’s mad?”
I laughed. “Then I’m definitely Rage.”
That earned a laugh. Good, because I liked hearing her laugh. For too many months, she’d had no reason to.
“I’m serious, though.” Her smile faded slightly. I continued before she could argue.
“You’ve got Dad’s personality.”
She snorted. “I don’t know if that’s a compliment.”
“It isn’t always.” That made her laugh again. I pointed at her. “You don’t back down.”
One finger. “You put everyone else first.”
A second. “You think things through before making a decision.”
A third. “And you’re stubborn as hell.”
She folded her arms. “I’m not stubborn.”
I stared at her. She stared back, then we both laughed.
“Okay,” she admitted. “Maybe a little.”
“A little?” I shook my head. “Definitely Dad’s daughter.”
The words came out naturally. Not forced or awkward, just true. I saw something flicker across her face, not discomfort or anger, but something softer. Like she was starting to let herself believe she might belong somewhere, that she might belong with us.
“You really think so?” she asked quietly. I didn’t hesitate.
“Yeah." Without question. Without doubt. “You’re my sister, Cleo.”
For a moment, she looked away, watching the kids, Tommy laughing at something Lola said, Skylar and Maddox kicking a football. When she looked back, her eyes were shining. Not with tears, just emotion.
“I’ve never had a brother before.” The honesty in her voice hit me harder than I expected.
I rubbed the back of my neck. I hadn’t had a real sibling either. I’d had club brothers, men I’d trust with my life, but not someone who shared my blood. Not someone who looked at Dad and saw what I saw. This was new for both of us.
“Well,” I said, keeping my tone light. “You’re stuck with me now.”
She laughed. “I think I can live with that.”
Good, because I wasn’t letting her go.
The kids had completely taken over the park. Lola hung upside down from the monkey bars, and Tommy tried to copy her, but not very well. Maddox pretended not to watch Skylar, but he was, and Skylar noticed everything, just like her mother. I saw her glance between Cleo and me more than once.
Curious, trying to figure us out. Smart kid. I had a feeling not much got past her.
“You know Dad searched for you, right?” The question slipped out before I could stop it. Cleo’s smile faded.
“He mentioned it.”
I nodded.
The thing was, Dad hadn’t just searched. He lived with it every day, every year, every birthday. I looked out at the football field, searching for the right words. Thinking, trying to find the right words.
“He never stopped.” Silence. “He’d get leads sometimes.” I shrugged. “They never went anywhere.”
Cleo listened quietly.
“He kept files.” That got her attention.
“Files?” She said shocked.
I nodded. “Boxes of them.”
Her eyes widened. “Roman…”
I shook my head. “I’m not telling you to make you feel guilty.” That wasn’t the point. The point was she deserved to know.
“He looked.” I swallowed. “Every year.”
Her gaze dropped to the ground.
“Mom never let him give up either.” That made her look up.
“Stella?”
I smiled. “Yeah.” The smile on my face softened. “She helped him.”
She was there through all the disappointment, dead ends, and frustration. Everything.
“She always believed he’d find you.”
Cleo blinked rapidly, looking suspiciously emotional.
Good. She should know how much Mom already cared, because Mom absolutely cared. The woman had worried about Cleo long before she ever met her.
“Uncle Roman!” I blinked. Tommy was suddenly right in front of me. Where had he come from? The kid moved like a ninja.
“What?”
“I fell.” I looked him over. No blood. No tears. No missing limbs.
“You seem okay.”
“I am.”
“Then why are you telling me?”
Tommy considered that seriously, as if it were an important question. Then shrugged. “Just wanted you to know.”
Next to me, Cleo burst out laughing, and I wasn’t far behind. Tommy grinned, mission accomplished, and ran off again.
The little menace. But it wasn’t Tommy who caught my attention, it was what he called me. Uncle Roman. Those words settled deep, somewhere I didn’t expect. I looked at Cleo. She heard it too. Neither of us said anything.
We didn’t need to. The moment spoke for itself.
----
An hour later, we were all still at the park, and the kids weren’t slowing down. I was thinking about taking a nap when I heard the unmistakable rumble of a bike. Tommy’s head snapped up right away. The kid practically vibrated with excitement.
“No way.”
I already knew that, and a second later Tommy proved me right.
“Chains!” Tommy yelled.
Across the park, a black bike pulled into a parking spot. Chains turned off the engine and took off his helmet, and Tommy ran toward him. Lola followed right after.
Chains barely had time to get off the bike before Tommy reached him. The big biker crouched down, listening closely as Tommy launched into what had to be the most important story ever. I watched, amused, because somehow Tommy had decided Chains was his person.
No explanation, no hesitation. The kid just liked him, and if the smile on Chains’ face was anything to go by, the feeling was mutual.
“He’s good with him.” I glanced toward Cleo. She was watching the same scene with a small smile on her face.
“Yeah.” She said quietly.
There was something thoughtful in her expression, something she wasn’t saying.
Chains looked up, his eyes landed on Cleo for a moment, and neither of them looked away. Just a few seconds, nothing dramatic, nothing obvious, but enough.
Enough for me to notice, enough for me to see the way Chains’ expression softened, and enough for me to see the way Cleo’s smile widened slightly.
Interesting. Very interesting.
I kept that thought to myself. I liked being alive, and saying anything would probably get me punched by both of them.
The children swarmed Chains seconds later, breaking whatever moment had existed. Tommy grabs one hand. Lola is grabbing the other, talking at once.
Chains looked completely trapped, but somehow happier than I’d seen him in years. I leaned back on the bench and watched the people around me.
My sister.
My niece.
My nephew.
My daughter.
My family.
For most of my life, there was a missing piece. It was a question no one could answer, a sibling somewhere out in the world.
Now she was here, and for the first time, I realized maybe finding Cleo wasn’t just the best thing that ever happened to Dad.
Maybe it was the best thing that ever happened to all of us.