Chapter 29
By the time I come downstairs with Jimmy at my side, I know exactly two things.
One: there is no universe in which this goes unnoticed.
And two: I am absolutely not emotionally prepared for the level of chaos that is about to unfold in this clubhouse.
Not even a little bit.
It’s early evening, and the whole place has that full, loud, lived-in feeling it gets when everyone is home at once.
Dinner’s in motion, which in Deathstalkers terms means the kitchen is overrun, the grill outside is still going, half the men are pretending they aren’t being ordered around, and every room downstairs is full of some combination of family, noise, and somebody talking over somebody else.
Music is drifting in from outside through the open back doors.
A game is on in the common room, mostly ignored.
Kids are running somewhere they probably shouldn’t be.
And the whole place smells like barbecue, garlic bread, and whatever dessert Aunt Lucy and Mom were making earlier that had Brooke nearly in tears over how good it smelled.
In other words, it’s exactly the kind of normal family club night I’ve known my entire life.
Except nothing about tonight feels normal.
Because Jimmy is walking beside me.
Not in that casual, brotherly, absent way he always has. Not in the loose, familiar orbit we’ve spent years trapped in while pretending nobody could feel the tension bleeding off us every time we stood too close for too long.
No.
Tonight, he’s beside me like he means it. Like he knows exactly where I belong. Like he wants everybody else to know it too. And if I’m being honest, that should probably terrify me more than it does.
Instead, it just makes my pulse jump every time his hand brushes the small of my back.
We hit the bottom of the stairs, and the room changes.
Not dramatically. Not all at once. But I feel it.
The way noise dips just enough. The way a few heads turn. The way one conversation trails off because somebody noticed us and now everybody else is about to.
The first one to clock it fully is, of course, Kya.
Because Kya notices absolutely everything when it’s likely to be entertaining.
She’s sprawled sideways on the couch with her feet in Dom’s lap and a bowl of chips balanced on her stomach like she’s preparing for war, and the second she sees Jimmy’s hand on my back, her entire face lights up like Christmas came early and brought gossip. “Oh my God,” she says, not quietly.
Dom closes his eyes.
Mac, sitting beside her with a blanket over her legs and one hand curled around a glass of water Logan definitely handed her fifteen minutes ago after asking if she was “hydrating enough,” looks up from her phone and goes still in that very Mac way where you can practically see the dry commentary loading behind her eyes.
Brooke, who’s perched in the recliner with Carter hovering close enough to qualify as a bodyguard, gasps like she’s been waiting for this exact moment for years. “Oh my God,” she echoes, softer and somehow more emotional.
Shaina, sitting cross-legged on the rug with Shadow behind her on the couch, takes one look at us and actually smirks.
Ana doesn’t even bother pretending to be subtle. She grins so hard I want to throw a roll at her head.
My mom is coming out of the kitchen with a bowl in her hands when she sees us at the bottom of the stairs. She stops so abruptly Raven nearly bumps right into her from behind, and then both of their eyes drop straight to Jimmy’s hand on me.
“Well,” Mom says, slow and careful.
Mom looks from me to Jimmy, then back again, and I can actually see the exact second realization hits. Her brows lift, and there’s something in her face that lands somewhere between surprise, relief, and finally.
Well... there it is.
Jimmy’s hand settles more firmly at my back, and when I glance up at him, there’s not even a hint of hesitation on his face. No backing off. No pretending this means less than it does. Just that steady, grounded look that still feels so new on him I almost don’t know what to do with it.
Then he leans down just slightly and says under his breath, “You good?”
That nearly does me in.
Not because the question is huge on its own. Because he keeps asking it. Keeps checking. Keeps acting like how I feel matters just as much as what he wants. And maybe that should be the bare minimum. But after years of him being all instinct and no follow-through, it feels bigger than it should.
So I nod. “Yeah.”
His thumb brushes once over the curve of my back.
And then we keep walking. Toward the fire. Toward the fallout. Toward every person in this room who is about to have an opinion.
Which, unfortunately, includes our parents. And Landon. Fantastic.
We make it maybe five steps farther into the common room before Kya points at us with a chip and says, “No. Absolutely not. You don’t get to just walk in here like that and not explain yourselves.”
Mac doesn’t look up from her drink. “Actually, they can. We all have eyes.”
Brooke is openly smiling now, both hands over her stomach like she’s trying to physically contain her excitement. “This is so cute.”
Dom mutters, “Please don’t use the word cute. He’s already tense.”
“I am not tense,” Jimmy says.
Everyone in the room looks at him.
He pauses. Then, “Okay, maybe a little.”
That gets a laugh out of half the room, including me, and it eases some of the pressure in my chest immediately. Because this ridiculous, nosy, over-involved family circus is mine.
It’s ours.
And if Jimmy’s serious about making this public, then this is part of it too.
The teasing. The watching. The instant assumption that everybody has earned a front-row seat to the emotional collapse and rebuild of our lives.
“About damn time,” Shadow mutters from the couch.
Shaina elbows him. “You’re annoying.”
He leans down and kisses the top of her head like he’s not remotely bothered by that. And that right there should probably be the thing that makes this whole room feel even more terrifying.
Because Shadow and Shaina are settled. Dom and Kya are settled. Logan and Mac. Carter and Brooke. Joker and Raven. Cain and Emma.
Everybody’s got their person now. Everybody’s got their shape.
And for the first time, Jimmy and I are stepping into ours where everybody can see it. That should feel like pressure. Instead, with his hand still warm against me and his body still angled like he’s not leaving my side tonight, it feels…right.
Then my father walks in from the kitchen carrying a tray of cornbread. And the entire temperature of the room changes.
Dad sees us. Stops. Looks down at Jimmy’s hand on my back. Looks back up at Jimmy’s face. Then very carefully sets the tray down on the side table like he’s trying not to throw it at somebody’s head.
Oh God.
Beside me, Jimmy goes very still. Not retreating. Not tense in a way that makes me think he’s about to do something stupid.
Just aware.
My dad wipes his hands on a dish towel and says, with terrifying calm, “Well.”
That’s somehow worse than yelling. Much worse.
Landon appears from the kitchen doorway a second later, takes one look at the room, and visibly realizes he has missed the opening act of whatever is happening.
His eyes land on me. Then Jimmy. Then Jimmy’s hand.
Then my face. And because he and Jimmy already had their talk, there’s no surprise there.
Just this very deliberate, very brotherly kind of watchfulness that tells me he is absolutely going to spend the entire night evaluating whether Jimmy deserves to keep breathing near me.
Wonderful.
Uncle Whip comes in right behind him, beer in hand, Aunt Lucy at his side.
And somehow, out of everybody in the room, Lucy’s reaction is the one that nearly undoes me. Because the second she sees us, her face changes. Not into shock. Not even into amusement. Into something softer. Something almost emotional.
Like she’s seeing a future she maybe hoped for once and then stopped expecting to happen.
Uncle Whip, on the other hand, looks at Jimmy, then at me, then lets out one short bark of laughter and says, “Well, I’ll be damned.”
Aunt Lucy elbows him in the ribs.
“What?”
“You’re impossible.”
“I’m right.”
“You’re loud.”
“That too.”
And just like that, some of the tension breaks. Not all of it. Definitely not enough to get us out of whatever protective father-brother energy is currently simmering on the other side of the room. But enough. Enough to let me breathe.
Jimmy’s hand slides from my back to my hip, subtle but steady, and I feel the message in it immediately.
I’m here. I’m not stepping back. You’re not standing in this alone. That should not still feel like a revelation. It does anyway.
Mac, who has apparently decided she is now chairing this meeting, takes one long sip of her water and says, “Can we all either commit to the tension or sit down and eat? I’m too pregnant for this much male posturing without carbs.”
That gets an immediate reaction.
Logan straightens from where he’s been hovering by the arm of the couch like a deeply anxious gargoyle. “There’s garlic bread.”
“Then why,” Mac says coolly, “am I not already holding it?”
He is in motion before she finishes the sentence.
Kya points after him. “See? That’s what I’m saying. They’re all one weird comment away from a full system failure.”
Brooke, because she is the sweetest menace alive, pats Carter’s hand and says, “Baby, can you grab me one of those lemonades?”
Carter stands instantly. “Of course.”
“Actually,” she adds thoughtfully, “maybe two.”
“Done.”
Dom stares after both Logan and Carter with open disgust. “You’re all making us look weak.”
Kya turns her head slowly and fixes him with a stare that should probably be illegal in public. “Say that again while I’m carrying your child.”
Dom visibly reconsiders his life choices. “Nope,” he says. “I’m good.”
The room laughs. Even my dad. Even Landon, a little.
And God, I love these people so much it almost hurts.