Chapter 28 #4
Her hands settle against my chest.
My palm slides over her lower back. And for one quiet second, I just hold her there. Breathe her in. Let the day settle.
Then I say it. “I think it’s time Lex gets her own room.”
Raven stills slightly in my arms. Not badly. Just surprised. She tips her head back to look at me. “You do?”
“Yeah.”
I brush a strand of damp hair back from her face and keep my voice rough and practical because if I make this too emotional too fast, she’s gonna bolt out of instinct.
“She needs a real setup. Her own space. Not a temporary one.”
Raven’s eyes search mine. I can see the exact second she realizes what else I’m saying without me saying it yet. Her breath catches just slightly. “And me?” she asks softly.
I hold her gaze. “You’re in here.”
Silence.
Her whole face changes. Not dramatically. Just enough. Enough to make me want to pull the entire world apart with my bare hands and rebuild it into something that never made her look that startled by being wanted. “Joker…”
“Angel.” I slide my hand up to the back of her neck and keep it there, steady and warm. “You’ll been sleeping in here half the damn time anyway. We both know it.”
That gets the faintest flush into her cheeks. Cute. Dangerous. Mine.
I lower my mouth closer to hers but don’t kiss her yet. “Soon as all this shit is over,” I murmur, “we’ll look at something more permanent.”
Her brows pull together slightly. “More permanent?”
“Yeah.”
The word comes easier than it should. Maybe because I’ve already been thinking it all day. Maybe because once a thing is true enough inside me, saying it out loud is the easy part.
I let my thumb sweep once over the side of her neck and tell her the rest. “Ours.”
The room goes very still.
I watch the word hit her. Watch it settle. Watch the fear and want and disbelief and hope all collide in her face at once. And because apparently I’ve decided to just fully set myself on fire emotionally this week, I say the part that’s truest.
“My family.”
Her inhale catches hard enough I feel it where our bodies touch.
For one second she just stares at me. Then her hands slide up my chest and around my neck and she kisses me like she doesn’t know whether to cry or climb inside my skin.
I take it. All of it.
The uncertainty. The hope. The relief. The fear.
I take it and kiss her back slow and deep and certain, one hand at her waist, the other cradling the back of her head while I hold her like I mean every fucking word I just said.
Because I do.
Not some fantasy version. Not some maybe if this all works out version. A real one.
A place. A home. A room for Lexi. A bed with Raven in it. A life that doesn’t end at the gates of this clubhouse if we can help it.
The thought should scare me.
It doesn’t. Not even a little.
When I finally pull back, her forehead stays against mine. Her breathing is uneven. Mine probably isn’t much better. Neither of us says anything for a second.
Then Raven whispers, “You really mean that?”
I don’t even know how to answer a question like that without getting offended.
So I go with honesty. “Every word.”
She closes her eyes. Not because she’s shutting down. Because she’s feeling it.
Letting it land. Letting it hurt and heal at the same time. And when she opens them again, there’s something different in them.
Still fragile around the edges. Still cautious. But steadier now. Like some tiny, terrified part of her has started believing she might actually be allowed to survive long enough to build something.
Good.
Because she is.
I kiss her once more. Slower this time. Then I murmur against her mouth, “Get in bed, angel.”
That gets me the faintest smile. “Bossy.”
“Correct.”
She huffs a quiet laugh and finally pulls away enough to kick off her slippers and crawl under the covers while I shut off the lamp and strip down to my sweats.
When I slide into bed beside her, she turns into me automatically now. No hesitation. No uncertainty. Just warmth and trust and soft skin and the kind of closeness I never thought I’d be stupid enough to need.
I pull her in tighter and settle my hand low at her waist.
She exhales against my chest and melts.
Outside the room, the clubhouse creaks and settles around us. Somewhere down the hall, a pipe knocks once in the wall. A bike starts outside in the lot, then fades into the distance.
Inside this room, though, everything goes still.
Raven’s breathing evens out first. Mine follows slower. And before sleep finally starts dragging at me, I look into the dark over the top of her head and let the truth settle one last time.
No one is taking them.
Not the law. Not Cal. Not fear. Not the past. Not if I have one brutal, bloody thing to say about it.
Because the woman in my arms?
The little girl asleep down the hall?
That future already starting to take shape in my head whether I asked for it or not?
That’s mine to protect now. Mine to build. Mine to keep.
And for the first time in a long damn time, the thought of belonging to something that much doesn’t feel like a weakness.
It feels like a reason.