Epilogue
Ace
Two years later
I stand in the doorway of my son’s nursery and watch him sleep.
Theo is three months old.
Sixteen pounds of attitude, dark hair, soft cheeks, and a mean little scowl he got from me.
One fist is tucked beside his face, his tiny chest rising and falling beneath a blanket covered in motorcycles Reina swore was ridiculous and then bought anyway.
My son.
Still takes me apart.
I thought I was too broken for this life.
Before her, I was all locked doors and old ghosts. A mother I couldn’t save. A father buried under a flag. A brother who followed him into war and came home the same way. Years of missions that left blood in the cracks of me nothing ever washed out.
Ace in the hole.
Last chance.
That was what they called me because I got people out when nobody else could.
I just never knew how to get myself out.
Then Reina ran into my life in blood-stained scrubs and terrified hazel eyes, and I looked at her once.
That was it.
Mine.
Took me a while to admit that protect was just another word for love when a man like me was too damn scared to say the real thing.
Reina figured it out first.
She always does.
We got married six days after that night.
Six days, and the whole town had opinions.
The Saints had louder ones.
Havoc told me I was a smug bastard for acting like I’d invented marrying fast, then stood beside me at the courthouse.
Ghost brought a bouquet from his wife’s flower shop and handed it straight to Reina because, according to him, I looked too mean to be trusted with flowers.
Viper cried and threatened every man who noticed.
Reina wore cream.
I wore my cut.
She put her hand in mine and promised forever like she wasn’t afraid of how long that was.
I believed her.
Then I rebuilt the cabin.
For her. For us. For the family that kept growing around me before I knew how to deserve it.
The old one-room place is still here somewhere, under new timber, wider windows, a real kitchen, our bedroom, Theo’s nursery, and a guest room that is never empty because my brothers have no boundaries and Reina keeps feeding them.
There are toys by the fireplace now.
Tiny socks in my laundry.
Her books on shelves I built myself.
My house used to be a place to hide.
Now it is where I come home.
A floorboard creaks behind me.
I turn.
Reina stands in the hallway wearing only my shirt.
Every good thought in my head burns clean away.
Her hair is loose around her shoulders. Her legs are bare. My ring glints on her finger where she rests one hand against the doorframe.
“Is he asleep?” she whispers.
I look back at Theo.
Still out.
“Kid’s finally down.”
“Good.” Her gaze trails over me, from my bare chest to the sweatpants hanging low on my hips. “Because I need his father.”
“You do?”
She smiles. “Always.”
My hand settles at her waist. Her breath catches the second I touch her. Always does. Two years, a wedding ring, a baby, my mouth on every inch of her, and she still gives me that soft little tell.
“You should be sleeping.”
“So should you.”
“I was checking on Theo.”
“You were staring at him like he’s a miracle.”
“He is.”
Her face softens.
“So are you,” I say.
She blinks, and there it is. That shy flush I’ve been chasing since the night she walked out of my shower wrapped in a towel and wrecked me where I stood.
“Ace.”
I love my name in her mouth.
I lean down and kiss her before that thought turns me into an animal in the hallway.
She melts into me, hands sliding up my chest. I walk her backward into our bedroom and shut the door with my foot.
Reina laughs against my mouth when I lift her.
“Quiet,” she whispers.
I set her on the bed. “Tell yourself that, sweetheart.”
Her cheeks go pink.
I kneel between her thighs and push my shirt higher. Her body is softer now. Fuller at the hips, heavier at the breasts, marked in faint silver lines low on her belly.
She tries to look away.
I catch her chin.
“Don’t.”
Her throat moves.
“I know,” she says softly.
“Then remember.”
I kiss the mark nearest my thumb. Then the next. Then the curve of her stomach that carried my son.
“My wife,” I murmur.
Her fingers slide into my hair.
“My woman.”
Her legs part.
“My whole damn life.”
“Ace,” she breathes.
I put my mouth on her pussy and take my time because I know her now. I know the hitch of her breath before she asks for more. I know the way her thighs tremble when she is close. I know where to press, where to lick, how to make her forget every insecurity she ever tried to bring into my bed.
She grips my hair.
I groan against her.
“That’s it,” I rasp. “Use me.”
She breaks with my name trapped behind her teeth, body shaking, heels digging into my back.
I’m on her before the last tremor fades.
She reaches for me like she needs me there.
I love that most.
I slide inside her in one deep stroke, and we both go still.
Home.
The word pounds through me with every beat of my heart.
Her arms lock around my neck.
“Missed you,” she whispers.
“I’ve been here all day.”
“Still.”
I understand that.
I miss her with my hands on her.
I move slow enough to keep the bed quiet, deep enough to make her nails bite into my skin. Her mouth finds mine. Her body opens under me, warm and wet and mine in every way that matters.
Because she chose me.
Because she keeps choosing me.
“Love you,” she says.
It hits like the first time.
Every time.
“I love you too.”
I bury my face against her throat and let go with her name in my mouth, shaking hard, holding myself over her so I don’t crush her, failing at being anything but hers.
After, I pull her against my chest. Her breathing evens out against my skin.
The cabin is full.
Alive.
Ours.
I kiss my wife’s hair and close my eyes.
I spent half my life getting people out.
Reina was the one who brought me home.
THE END