Epilogue
Gathering the kids for the family photo was no small feat.
Two-year-old Kolter was red-faced and sobbing after an epic meltdown because I served hot dogs for lunch instead of nuggets, even though he’d begged for the cut-up sausages all morning.
For twenty minutes, four-year-old Isabella argued with me about wearing the dress Merci had picked out, trying to negotiate wearing her T-Rex costume instead.
And ten-year-old Charlotte tried painting Chaos’s claws instead of her own nails.
With Merci finishing up at the clinic, Jessa jumped in to save me. We made a good team, turning the near-calamity into cooperation by offering gummy bears and tablet time to wrangle the entire family for the most important day of our lives.
I strapped the kids into their seats in the minivan—fuck me, I drove a goddamn minivan like a pussy—and headed to the park where Rhetta, Eva, and Kenna had worked to set up the occasion.
Merci pulled in right behind us, and I smirked as I watched her quickly apply makeup in the rearview mirror. She didn’t need it, so I honked the horn and gave her a heated look to remind her just how beautiful she was.
The second she was close enough, I pulled her in for a kiss under the balloon arch—a move that earned a chorus of disgusted “ews” from the rest of the family.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t home in time to help you get everyone ready,” she said, a little breathless.
“It’s fine. Jessa and I killed it, right?” I said as I high-fived my sister.
Merci appraised the kids before her and laughed. “Well, Kolter’s shirt is buttoned unevenly, and Isabella’s skirt is inside out and backward. And you forgot the bow for Charlotte’s hair.”
I chuckled. “None of that matters. No one will remember what they were wearing today.”
The photographer posed us in front of the balloon arch and captured a few shots.
Boredom set in within minutes. Chaos was dead set on digging a hole big enough to bury a body, Charlotte pulled at her braids, Isabella argued with Jessa, and Kolter was minutes from nodding off for a nap.
Merci shot me a look that said, “We'd better do this now.”
“OK, kids, we have a surprise!” Merci said, getting everyone’s attention with the excitement in her voice. “I want you to look at the cameras and say, ‘We’re adopted!’”
Charlotte froze. “Really?”
“Really,” I said, kneeling to meet her eyes.
Isabella screeched with excitement, and Kolter, well, he didn’t have a care in the world.
“All three of us?” Charlotte asked.
“Yes, all three of you. We didn’t want you to be separated, so we’ve been working with the court to bring you into our family permanently.”
“You’re ours now—forever,” Merci added, her voice cracking.
I wiped a tear from her cheek and reached down to pick up Kolter. I bounced him on my hip. He yawned, clearly over the excitement already.
We headed back to the clubhouse, our friends and family waiting to celebrate our growing family at this year’s Memorial Day barbecue.
Rhetta and Kenna had turned the place into a full-blown family carnival with a bounce house, a cotton candy machine, and a cooler full of juice boxes.
Charlotte shadowed Jessa to the table with Gracie.
Kolter’s head lolled on my chest, his muffled snores sounding across me.
Thane strolled up and pulled a cigar from his mouth. He smacked me on the back. “This club’s becoming a goddamn daycare center,” he complained.
But I didn’t miss his grin when Isabella challenged him to a squirt gun war with Tilly, Talia, and Leo.
Reaper and Eva approached, each carrying a twin.
“Shit, I forgot the diaper bag,” Eva said. She pushed Harland toward Kenna. “Will you hold him while I run back?”
Kenna held her hands in the air and backed away. “How about I go get your bag, and you hold onto your semen demon?” She jogged away before Eva could even respond.
I chuckled. Despite the growing Mavericks family, Kenna still avoided the children as if she were afraid of catching baby fever.
Reaper bounced Harper in his arms, the tulle of her pink dress ruffling.
“How’s Harper the Hellion?” I asked.
Reaper shook his head, exasperated. “Now that she can walk, we can’t keep her out of trouble. She’s lucky she’s cute. You ready to see it? I dropped it off by your van.”
“Hell yeah. Thanks for building it for me.”
“Building what?” Merci asked suspiciously.
I grinned, shifting Kolter from my shoulder into her arms. “Reaper built the kids a mini bar. So they can play bartender.”
Merci’s jaw dropped. “What happened to the kitchen idea?”
I chuckled. “The bar is way cooler. It’ll teach them entrepreneurship. I already ordered a little cash register and a cocktail shaker. We can let them mix juices into mocktails, and we’ll pay. It’s educational.”
She shook her head. “Only you would think that teaching our kids to bartend is a good idea.”
“It’s going to give them employable skills,” I argued.
Merci rolled her eyes, but her grin gave her away. She loved it.
Laughter carried across the yard, punctuated by rumbling bikes and the crack of a cold beer. The clubhouse had never felt more like home.
Merci leaned into me. “You happy?”
I looked at her and then at everything I never thought I’d have. Three kids, a sister, our dog, and even that goddamn minivan.
My chest tightened. “Yeah, Hellcat. Happier than I’ve ever been.”
She smiled against me, and the restless energy that had haunted me my entire life finally vanished. I’d spent years pretending I didn’t want anything real, burning through bikes, booze, and broads who never meant a damn thing to me.
Merci showed me love didn’t stay inside the lines. It didn’t care about boundaries or a code. It tore right through them.
I paused and gazed at the framed photo Kenna had hung in the lobby.
Me and Dr. Patel in our white coats and stethoscopes, beside my mom, Kenna, and Eva, posing in front of the doors with balloons and a bottle of champagne.
We’d opened a few months after the women’s center’s ribbon cutting—funded by donors, friends, and even the Mavericks.
Under Dr. Patel—whom I’d hired as our lead doctor so she could continue to mentor me—I started to build my career. And, because we were a free clinic, I no longer had to worry about fighting with the insurance companies to give my patients the care they deserved.
I flipped through the chart. It was a story I’d heard too many times. Another woman hurt at the hands of a man who shouldn’t be allowed to take another breath. I knocked before entering the room.
After a quick exam, I leveled my gaze at my patient. “I can get you into the shelter today. The center will support you every step of the way, from getting a job to legal aid. You don’t have to go back to him.”
My patient sniffled. With free services and no insurance requirements, more cases like this came in than I’d liked. But I was grateful to be able to offer care for domestic violence survivors and guaranteed referrals to get them out of their situations.
“What about my stuff? My work laptop is there. Family photos. My dog.”
I brushed my hand over her arm to reassure her. “I have connections with Mavericks Security, and I can have six burly bikers there to keep you safe while you pack, if you want.”
She nodded. “Can the center really help me? If I tell him I’m leaving, I won’t be safe there. If I end up going back, he’ll hurt me worse.”
“This year, we’ve placed over thirty women. We’ll help you find a place to live, here or in another city. We’ll put security on you if we think you’re in danger. All for free.”
“OK,” she said, strength echoing in her tone.
“I’ll take you across the building to Kenna. She’ll meet with you to get info and make a plan. And I’ll connect you with one of our peer mentors, Elena. She’s been through this, too. You’re not alone.”
My phone pinged, and I glanced at my watch. Shit. Now I’d be late.
“Mom of the Year,” I grumbled to myself as I spun the fine diamond band that now sat below my gleaming ruby engagement ring.
Between finishing my residency and running the clinic at the women’s center, I barely had time to think during the workday, and my evenings were filled with bedtime stories and bath time.
“Shouldn’t you be gone by now?” my mom asked from the front desk.
Her shiny badge said “Maren Morris, Executive Assistant.” But she was so much more than that to the center.
She’d moved back to Texas shortly after Hatchet and I were approved to foster, ready to play grandma not just to our kids, but to the entire Mavericks crew.
She was always on call to babysit when Reaper and Eva planned a date night, or when Hatchet and I wanted a dinner that didn’t consist of dino nuggets and tater tots.
“I’m leaving now,” I said, skimming the schedule for the next day. “See you tonight? Kenna’s cooking chicken parmesan.”
She shooed me away. “I’ll be there. Now get on the road before Jessa calls to ask where you’re at. That girl won’t wait for you.”
I scoffed. “You’re telling me.”
I sped home and smiled, thinking about how my life had changed so drastically since me and Hatchet had tied the knot.
I burst through the front door.
“There she is,” Hatchet said with a grin.
I didn’t know how I’d do it without him. Hatchet had become a full-time stay-at-home dad and part-time gym owner—much to the annoyance of my brother, who claimed I’d stolen his best friend.
Kolter screeched and toddled toward me, a toy truck in his grubby little hand.
“Sorry, I got caught up at work. Where are the girls?”
“Jessa’s finishing packing. Charlotte and Isabella are outside.”
Barking erupted in the yard, and Hatchet and I exchanged a look. We moved to the window to see Chaos, Charlotte, and Isabella playing with a black puppy.
My eyes widened, and I glared at Hatchet. “You got them a puppy?”
“I don’t know where that dog came from.”
We moved outside.
“Mom, can we keep him?” Charlotte begged.
Hatchet and I exchanged a glance.
“Honey, a puppy is a lot of work. He probably has a home of his own,” I said, kneeling to let the pup lick my fingers. “Where did you come from, little guy?”
No collar. No tags.
I glanced at Hatchet, and he crossed his arms, like he knew exactly how this would end already.
“Are you guys coming?” Jessa shouted from the back deck. “We have to leave now.”
I sighed. “I guess we’re taking the puppy? We can stop by the vet to have them scan her for a microchip on our way home.”
Hatchet smirked. “If we’re taking the puppy, we’ll have to take Chaos. She’ll get jealous.”
I shook my head incredulously. “Why not? Let’s fill the van with kids and animals. That won’t be overwhelming at all.” Sarcasm wore at the edges of my humor. And my sanity.
Hatchet kissed my head. “Don’t worry. I’ll wrangle it all for you.”
“Come on!” Jessa yelled again.
“Grab the puppy,” Hatchet said to Charlotte. “We’re not keeping him, but we can’t leave him alone.”
Hatchet clicked his tongue for Chaos to follow. I picked up Isabella and trailed behind them.
Once everyone was loaded up and buckled in, we hit the road. I sat in the back beside Kolter and let Jessa take shotgun.
“You’ll call every day, right?” Hatchet asked from behind the wheel.
His sister rolled her eyes. “If I have time.”
Jessa had been accepted to a summer writing institute in Edinburgh and would be spending the next two months exploring Scotland and Ireland with a group of students before her senior year.
“If not for us, call for the girls. They’ll miss you,” I said, pressing back my tears.
We said our goodbyes to Jessa at the airport and headed straight for the vet’s office.
“A stray, eh?” the vet asked. “Nice looking dog. Probably a border collie, by my guess.”
He ran the scanner over the pup’s back. No beep. No chip.
“You can call the shelter and maybe check the local Facebook groups, but someone probably dumped him nearby, and he wandered into your yard because he smelled your dog. Shelter’s full, as always.”
I glanced at Isabella and Charlotte, their eyes begging. I shifted my gaze to Hatchet.
“Up to you, babe.”
Hatchet shook his head. “What, a little more havoc in the Morris-Perry household? If no one steps up to claim him, we’ll keep him.”
The girls jumped and cheered.
“Havoc? Sounds like the perfect name.”
And it was. Because even with all the havoc and chaos in our lives, we’d built something real. Our life would never be quiet or simple. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.
Somewhere in all the noise and madness, I realized love wasn’t quiet. It was loud, messy, and unbreakable.