Chapter 10
TEN
KNOX
I wake before dawn. I’ve always been an early riser, the Army drilled it into me, but this morning is different. This morning, I have a plan.
I lie there for a minute, staring at the ceiling of my room at the clubhouse, my mind already running through the logistics.
Security. Routes. Timing. Contingencies.
I've mapped every street between here and Jackson Park three times.
I know which intersections have cameras, which alleys offer cover, which routes give us the most visibility and the fewest choke points.
It's just a trip to the park.
But nothing is just anything when it comes to Ainsley and Owen.
I've never been a man who does things halfway. When I commit, I commit fully. And I committed to her the moment I saw her on that highway, terrified, defiant, holding that tire iron like she was ready to fight the world.
I'm going to prove she's safe. That she matters. That we're worth believing in.
By the time I make it to the main room, Jax is already there, leaning against the bar with a cup of coffee in his hand. He looks up when I walk in, an easy grin spreading across his face.
"Morning, sunshine," he says.
"Fuck off."
He laughs, the sound low and easy. "You're in a good mood."
I pour myself a cup of coffee and take a long drink before answering. The bitter heat grounds me, sharpens my focus. "I'm taking Ainsley and Owen out today."
Jax raises an eyebrow. "Out where?"
"Jackson Park. Thought she could use some air. Some normalcy."
"Normalcy," Jax repeats, his grin widening. "You mean you want to play house with her and the kid."
I glare at him. "It's not like that."
"It's exactly like that." He sets his cup down and crosses his arms, leaning back against the bar. "You're going soft on me, brother."
"I'm not soft."
"You're planning a fucking picnic, Knox. That's soft."
I flip him off, but he just laughs.
"I'm not saying it's a bad thing," Jax says, his tone shifting to something more serious. He studies me for a long moment, his green eyes sharp. "She needs this. Hell, we all need this. Just… be careful, yeah? Justin's still out there."
"I know." I take another drink of coffee, my jaw tightening. "I've already mapped the route. I'll have Riot and Tiny on standby. We'll be fine."
Jax nods slowly. "You've thought of everything."
"I always do."
"Yeah, you do." He grins again. "She's lucky to have you."
"She's lucky to have both of us."
"Damn right she is." He pauses, then adds, "She's starting to believe this is real."
I look at him. "You think so?"
"I know so. I see the way she looks at us." He pushes off the bar and claps me on the shoulder. "Don't fuck it up."
"I won't."
"Good. Because I'm not losing her."
"Neither am I."
We stand there for a moment, the weight of it settling between us. This isn't just about wanting her anymore. It's about keeping her. Protecting her. Making sure she knows she's ours and we're hers. Forever.
An hour later, I'm standing outside Ainsley's door, my hand raised to knock.
I hesitate.
What if she says no?
My throat thickens with uncertainty. She's been through so much. She's barely starting to trust us. What if pushing her out of her comfort zone is too much too soon?
But then I remember the way she looked at me last night, vulnerable, like she was starting to believe this could be real. Like she was starting to let herself hope.
I knock.
There's a pause, then the sound of footsteps. The door opens, and Ainsley is standing there in an oversized hoodie and leggings, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She looks tired, but when she sees me, her expression softens.
"Morning," she says, her voice still rough with sleep.
"Morning." I clear my throat. "I was thinking… maybe we could get out of here for a bit. Take Owen to the park."
Her eyes widen. "The park?"
"Yeah. Fresh air. Sunshine. Let the kid run around a little." I pause. "If you're up for it."
She bites her lip, and I can see the hesitation in her eyes. The fear. The instinct to say no, to stay hidden, to keep Owen close.
"It's safe," I add quickly. "I've already checked the route. I'll have guys on standby. Nothing's going to happen to you or Owen. I promise."
She studies me for a long moment, her brown eyes searching mine. Then, slowly, she nods. "Okay."
Relief floods through me. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." She smiles, and it's small but genuine. "Let me get Owen ready."
Twenty minutes later, we're loading Owen into the truck.
He's babbling happily, his chubby hands reaching for everything, and Ainsley is laughing as she tries to buckle him into his car seat.
"Hold still, baby," she says, her voice patient.
Owen giggles and grabs a fistful of her hair.
"Ow! Owen, no.”
I step in, gently prying his fingers loose. "Easy, little man. Mama needs that."
Owen looks up at me with wide, curious eyes, then grins.
"Da-da-da," he babbles happily.
My heart stops.
Ainsley freezes, her eyes snapping to mine.
"Did he just—"
"Dada!" Owen says again, louder this time, his grin widening.
I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do.
So I just reach out and ruffle his soft hair, emotion lodges behind my sternum. "Yeah, buddy. I'm here."
Ainsley's eyes are shining with unshed tears, and I can see the emotion warring on her face, hope, fear, something that looks like longing.
"Knox," she whispers.
"It's okay," I say quietly. "If he wants to call me that… I'm not going anywhere."
She nods, blinking rapidly, and turns back to finish buckling Owen in. Her hands are shaking.
I want to pull her into my arms. I want to tell her that this is real, that we're not going anywhere, that she and Owen are ours now.
But I don't. Not yet.
Instead, I close the truck door and walk around to the driver's side, my pulse stutters as I close the door.
The drive to Jackson Park is quiet.
Ainsley sits in the passenger seat, her hands folded in her lap, staring out the window. Owen babbles in the backseat, playing with a toy truck Jax gave him last week.
I keep one hand on the wheel and the other on my phone, checking in with Riot and Tiny. They're already in position, watching the park from a distance. Nothing suspicious. No sign of Justin.
Good.
When we pull into the parking lot, Ainsley looks over at me. "You really think this is safe?"
"I know it is," I say. "I've got guys watching. If anything happens, we're out of here in thirty seconds."
She nods, but I can see the tension in her shoulders.
"Hey." I reach over and take her hand. "I've got you. Both of you."
She looks down at our joined hands, then back up at me. "I know."
The park is beautiful.
It's a warm, sunny day, and the playground is full of kids running around, laughing, screaming. Parents sit on benches nearby, watching with tired but content expressions.
Ainsley carries Owen over to the toddler area, and I follow close behind, my eyes scanning the perimeter. Everything looks normal. Safe.
But I don't relax.
I can't.
Owen gurgles happily at the sight of the playground, his eyes wide with baby wonder, reaching for it with both hands. Ainsley lets him look at it, his babbling excited as he watches other children play.
"Careful, baby," she says, hovering close.
I step in and scoop him up, carrying him to the top of the slide. "You ready, little man?"
He babbles happily and reaches for my face.
Something settles warm in my ribs.
I sit him down at the top of the slide and hold his hands as he slides down, his laughter echoing through the park. When he reaches the bottom, he looks up at me with pure joy on his face.
He babbles happily, and I can't help but laugh. This simple joy, his joy, is everything.
We make our way over to the swings. I lift him into one of the bucket swings and push him gently while Ainsley watches, her hand resting on the swing to stabilize it. He kicks his legs and makes delighted baby sounds.
Ainsley is standing a few feet away, watching us. There's something in her expression, something vulnerable and achingly beautiful.
"You're good with him," she says quietly.
"He's a good kid."
"He is." She pauses. "He really loves you, you know."
I look at her. "I love him too."
Her breath catches, and for a moment, I think she's going to cry. But then she smiles, and it's genuine.
"Thank you," she whispers.
"For what?"
"For this. For… everything."
I don't know what to say to that, so I just nod and keep pushing Owen on the swing.
After the playground, we spread out a blanket under a tree and sit down. Ainsley pulls out snacks from the bag I packed, crackers, fruit, juice boxes. Owen immediately grabs a handful of crackers and shoves them into his mouth.
"Slow down, baby," Ainsley says, laughing.
I hand her a bottle of water, and she takes it with a grateful smile.
We sit there for a while, watching Owen play with his toys on the blanket. The breeze is cool, and for the first time in days, I feel like I can breathe.
"This is nice," Ainsley says.
"Yeah. It is."
She looks over at me. "I didn't think I'd ever feel this way again."
"What way?"
"Safe." She pauses. "Happy."
I reach over and take her hand, threading my fingers through hers. "You are safe. And you deserve to be happy."
She squeezes my hand, and we sit there in silence, just holding on to each other.
Then Owen starts crawling.
Fast.
He's off the blanket before either of us can react, heading straight toward the playground equipment, a colorful jungle gym with tunnels and slides about twenty feet away.
"Owen!" Ainsley calls, scrambling to her feet.
But he's already disappearing behind the structure.
I'm up immediately, but Ainsley is faster, driven by pure panic. She runs toward the playground, her breathing already ragged.
"Owen!" she calls again, louder this time. "Owen, baby, where are you?"
I catch up to her as she reaches the jungle gym. She's spinning in circles, her eyes wild, searching frantically.
"He was just, he was right there.” Her voice cracks. "Knox, I can't see him. I can't—"
"Hey." I grip her shoulders gently but firmly. "Breathe. He's here. He didn't go far."