Chapter 12
Cleo POV
The biggest surprise about finding a family at twenty-eight was how fast they became part of my everyday life. Two months ago, I had no idea they were out there. Now Dad drops by my place at least twice a week. He usually brings coffee, sometimes groceries. Once, he showed up with a toolbox because he thought something was off with the back gate.
I still don’t really know what he meant, but he fixed it anyway.
Roman was even more persistent. My brother texts me all the time.
Random photos, questions, Memes I didn’t understand, and updates about Lola.
He sent updates about things I really didn’t need to know. He could say more in a text than most people did in person. I loved every message, though, because each one reminded me he wanted me in his life, wanted me as his sister.
For twenty-eight years, I wondered what it felt like to belong. Now I was starting to find out, and I didn’t want to let go.
It hadn’t been me, it hadn’t been Dad. Maria had made her own choices. Painful choices, selfish choices, but they were hers. Not mine or Dad’s.
The past wouldn’t control my future anymore. Not now, when I finally had something to fight for.
----
On Saturday morning, I stood in the clubhouse kitchen with Stella. She was teaching me how to make one of Roman’s favorite desserts. Every family has a recipe everyone argues about. This was theirs.
I quickly learned that saying no to Stella when she wanted to teach me something was pointless, she was unstoppable.
“You’re stirring too fast.”
I looked down. “I am not.”
“You are.” I rolled my eyes.
She laughed. “I’ve raised Roman.”
She pointed the spoon at me. “I know stubborn when I see it.”
“That’s unfair.”
“It’s genetics.”
I snorted. The kitchen grew quiet, but it felt comfortable, something I’d never really felt before, not like this, not with a mother. The thought crossed my mind before I could stop it.
Mother.
The word felt strange, painful, and hopeful all at once. I reached for another bowl.
“Mom, where do you keep the…”
The word made me freeze, the kitchen went silent, and my eyes went wide. Across the counter, Stella stopped for a long moment, and neither of us moved or said anything. My face grew hot.
“Oh, God.” I immediately shook my head. “I’m sorry.”
Emotion flashed across Stella’s face so quickly it almost hurt to see.
“Cleo.” Her voice cracked. I looked up. Tears filled her eyes, not sad tears, but the kind that made my own throat ache.
“You never have to apologize for that.”
My chest tightened. “Stella.."
She came around the counter before I could finish and pulled me into a hug. It was strong, warm, and safe. When she let go, she held my cheek in her hand.
“You know you can call me Mom.”
The tears I’d been fighting threatened to escape.
“Only if you want to.”
I swallowed hard because I did want to, more than I could ever explain.
“Because sweetheart,” Stella whispered, “I already think of you as my daughter.”
That broke what little control I had left. One tear slipped out, then another. “You do?”
She laughed softly through her own tears. “Of course I do.” She squeezed my hand. “You, Roman, my grandbabies.”
Then she smiled. “And your pain-in-the-ass father.”
I laughed through my tears, and Stella smiled too. The warmth in her eyes almost undid me.
“You are my world, Cleo.”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak or breathe. All I could do was look at her, the woman who spent years helping Dad search for me. She never made me feel like an outsider. She chose me before she even met me. Maybe family isn’t always about blood. Maybe it’s about choice, and Stella chose me, just like I chose her.
“Okay.” My voice shook. A smile spread across Stella’s face.
“Okay, what?”
I smiled back. “Okay, Mom.”
She hugged me so tightly I thought she might crack a rib.
----
By the afternoon, the clubhouse was full of life. Kids ran through the yard, music played from the speakers, and the smell of barbecue filled the air. It felt less like a motorcycle club and more like a big family gathering.
Dad was trying to teach Tommy how to throw a football. Trying was the keyword. The ball flew off in the wrong direction, and Dad had to chase it. Tommy laughed so hard he almost fell over.
I sat at one of the picnic tables watching them, smiling.
A few yards away, Skylar sat with her sketchbook on her knees. Over the last few weeks, she’d grown braver, more confident, and more relaxed. She was finally becoming the ten-year-old she deserved to be.
Chains walked past carrying a bottle of water. He paused beside her. “What are you drawing?”
Skylar immediately covered the page. “It’s not finished.”
Chains looked entirely unimpressed. “I wasn’t aware that mattered.”
Skylar rolled her eyes, a habit she definitely got from me. “I’ll show you when it’s done.”
Chains nodded. “Fair.”
Then he turned as if to leave.
“Wait.”
He stopped and looked back, slowly and carefully, like he wasn’t sure she wanted him to. Skylar hesitated before turning the sketchbook around. Chains studied the drawing. He really looked at it, not just the quick glance most adults give kids.
The drawing was a bike. Detailed, thoughtful, and beautiful. After a few moments, he looked up.
“That’s good.”
Skylar narrowed her eyes. “Good?”
“Really good.” He said and gave her a small smile.
Her suspicion disappeared right away. I tried not to smile. Kids are so easy to read.
“What do you like about it?” she asked.
Chains looked back down. “The details.”
Skylar sat a little straighter.
“The shadows.”
Straighter still.
“The bike.”
A grin immediately spread across her face. “It’s your bike.”
Chains looked between her and the drawing. Then something unexpected softened his expression. He felt proud, not just because she’d drawn his bike, but because she trusted him enough to show him.
“Can I keep it when you’re finished?”
Skylar blinked. “You want it?”
Chains shrugged. “If you’re willing to part with it.”
The smile that lit her face was enormous. “Okay.”
“Deal.”
Then he walked away, nothing dramatic or showy. Still, Skylar seemed taller afterward, more confident, like someone had finally noticed her drawings, and that mattered.
----
Later that evening, I stood beside Dad watching the children play.
Tommy.
Skylar.
Lola.
Maddox.
All happy, safe, belonging. Dad nudged my shoulder.
“You okay, sweetheart?”
I looked around the yard. Roman was laughing with Bolt, Dad's Sergeant at Arms and one of his closest friends. Nearby, Mia, Bolt's wife and Stella's best friend, was chatting happily with Mom. Tommy was chasing Lola through the grass while Maddox followed behind them, and Skylar sat quietly beneath a tree with her sketchbook balanced on her knees.
For years, I carried a hole inside me where family should have been. I thought it would always be empty, but standing there, surrounded by people who loved me, I realized it wasn't empty anymore.
“No,” I said as I turned towards him.
Dad immediately frowned. “Cleo…”
I smiled, a real smile, the kind that came from deep inside.
“I’m better than okay.”
His expression softened, and for the first time in my life, I knew it was true. The past would always be part of me, but it didn’t control me anymore.
This was my future, my family, and I planned to hold on to all of it.