Chapter 7
Kelly
I watch Johnny tear back across the yard with all the determination in the world, his little legs pumping hard as he makes a beeline straight for Tara and the other kids.
He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even slow down—just barrels right back into the middle of the chaos like the serious conversation he just had with Mason has already been filed away in that six-year-old brain of his under important things to think about later.
Tarah turns when she sees him coming, her face lighting up, and Johnny immediately launches into whatever grand idea he’s got planned next, hands moving animatedly while the other kids crowd around to listen.
I smile to myself. It’s impossible not to.
There’s something so sweet about the way Johnny loves—big and loud and all-consuming, like he’s never learned how to do anything halfway. When he cares about someone, he throws his whole heart at them without a second thought.
He gets that from Mason.
The thought has me glancing toward the oak tree where Mason is still sitting, one arm draped over his bent knee, his cut stretched across his broad shoulders as he watches Johnny rejoin the other kids.
There’s a softness in his face that doesn’t show itself often around anyone but us. Around the club he’s just Mason.
But with our kids?
With me?
He’s something else entirely.
I weave my way through the backyard toward him, sidestepping children darting through the grass and one of the old ladies trying to wrangle paper plates before the wind carries them away. The yard is loud now, full in a way that makes my chest ache with gratitude.
The grill still throws off the faint scent of char and smoke even though most of the food has already been pulled off.
Laughter rises from one of the tables where Demon and Justice are arguing over who cheated at horseshoes.
Somewhere near the porch, Bella is talking to Sarah while absently rubbing her hand over the curve of her stomach.
Maddy and Madison are sitting in the shade with one of the other women, each of them holding a cracker in a sticky little fist while they grin at every person who stops to talk to them.
This is what I wanted.
Not perfection.
Not quiet.
Just this. Family. Noise. Love. A backyard full of people who would burn the world down for one another if they had to.
Mason looks up when I stop in front of him. His eyes track over me slowly, warm and familiar, and even after everything we’ve been through, even after building a life that feels so settled compared to where we started, that look still has the power to make my stomach flip.
I smile and reach down, brushing my fingers through his hair where it’s fallen across his forehead from the heat and the long day.
“Did you and Johnny have a good talk?”
Mason’s mouth curves.
He catches my wrist gently and tugs me down until I’m settled between his knees. His hands settle on my hips, warm and solid, and then he leans forward to press a kiss to my forehead.
It’s a soft kiss.
Quick. But it still makes something in me melt.
“Yeah,” he says against my skin. “Everything’s good.”
I tip my head back enough to look at him. “Yeah?”
He nods, one hand sliding around to the small of my back like he can’t help himself, like touching me is as natural as breathing now.
“Yeah,” he repeats. “We were just talking about what happened earlier with the other boys.”
A laugh slips out of me before I can stop it.
“Johnny and his territorial little six-year-old heart.”
Mason huffs out a quiet laugh, his thumb brushing absent circles over my hip.
“Our son’s got a lot of opinions.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“He likes that little girl.”
I smile, because of course he does. Of course Johnny would latch onto one sweet face and decide she belongs in his orbit forever.
“He told me,” I say. “He looked personally offended by the idea of her having another best friend.”
Mason’s grin widens. “Pretty much exactly how he explained it to me.”
I laugh and shake my head, glancing out toward the yard where Johnny is now trying to organize what appears to be a dinosaur rescue mission involving three little boys, Tara, and at least one stuffed animal.
“He’s too young for this.”
Mason’s hands tighten lightly on my hips, playful and reassuring all at once.
“He’s six, baby. I think we’ve got time before we need to worry.”
“Do we?”
He arches an eyebrow at me.
“You really think that kid’s gonna be dating anytime soon?”
I open my mouth to answer, but before I can, Johnny’s voice rings out from across the yard, loud enough to carry over every other conversation.
“NO, TARA, THE T-REX DOESN’T LIVE IN THE CASTLE!”
Mason snorts.
I laugh so hard I have to brace a hand against his shoulder.
“Okay,” I admit. “Maybe not soon.”
He smiles at me, and for a second the rest of the party blurs around the edges. It’s just us again, caught in one of those small quiet moments that somehow feel louder than all the chaos around us.
His eyes drift over my face like he’s memorizing it, and I feel that familiar rush of warmth low in my chest. There’s still soot smudged faintly along one side of his forearm from the grill.
His cut is open over a dark T-shirt stretched across his chest, and his hair is a little messy from the wind and the girls grabbing at it earlier.
He looks like home.
I smooth my hand down the front of his shirt, grounding myself in the feel of him.
“We should probably bring out the cake,” I say softly. “Before the girls decide to crash from all the excitement.”
Mason glances toward the shaded area where Maddy and Madison are sitting with one of the old ladies, both of them looking perfectly content while they chew on their snacks and wave sticky hands at anyone who smiles at them.
“Probably.”
“And if we do the cake now,” I add, “everyone can give them their presents after.”
He follows my gaze toward the pile of brightly wrapped gifts stacked on the table near the back door. There are enough bags and boxes over there to bury two toddlers.
Mason groans quietly.
“Those girls are gonna be spoiled rotten.”
I smile.
“They already are.”
“By everyone.”
“Especially by you.”
He gives me a look. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not.”
I lean down and press a quick kiss to his mouth this time, tasting smoke and soda and something that is just Mason.
“It’s one of my favorite things about you.”
His hand slides up my back, holding me there for a second longer than necessary, his eyes darkening just a little.
“You keep looking at me like that,” he murmurs, voice low enough that only I can hear, “and I’m gonna forget we’ve got half the club in our backyard.”
Heat curls low in my stomach. I press my lips together to keep from smiling too much and tap him lightly on the chest.
“Focus, biker.”
His grin is slow and dangerous and entirely too familiar.
“Bossy.”
“Someone has to be.”
He finally lets me up, but his hand drags down my side as I move away, reluctant to let go. I glance toward the porch where Bella is standing with Sarah, then toward the tables where the rest of the old ladies are talking, and finally toward the cluster of brothers still crowded around the coolers.
“Alright,” I say, clapping my hands once to get Mason’s attention back on track. “Go get the girls, round up your brothers and get everybody’s attention. I’ll get the cake.”
Mason pushes to his feet in one smooth motion, towering over me immediately. He dips down and brushes one more kiss over my forehead.
“Yes, ma’am.”
I roll my eyes even as my heart trips over itself.
“Go.”
He laughs under his breath and starts toward the yard, already calling out for the guys to help move the gift table closer.
And as I turn toward the house to get the cake, I can already feel the next wave of chaos building—the happy kind.
The kind that comes with candles and wrapping paper and two little girls about to be loved on by every single person in this yard.
By the time Mason starts calling for everyone to gather around, the backyard is buzzing with that particular kind of loud that only happens when you mix bikers, old ladies, kids, and sugar all in one place.
Brothers are dragging chairs closer to the front table. Kids are running in circles around the gift table. Someone—probably Justice—is already trying to sneak another burger before cake.
And in the middle of it all, my girls are sitting side by side in their high chairs beneath the Minnie Mouse banner, dressed in their matching red-and-white dresses, looking completely unaware that this entire party is for them.
Maddy is chewing on the edge of her bib. Madison is trying to kick one tiny white shoe off her foot with a look of fierce concentration.
I smile and turn toward the kitchen.
“Bella,” I call, already moving for the back door. “Sarah, can you help me with the cakes?”
“Got it,” Bella says immediately.
Sarah pops up from where she’d been sitting with Devil and hurries after us, looking far too excited for someone who isn’t even the one getting cake.
Inside, the kitchen still smells faintly like the food we’d spent all day making—grilled burgers drifting in from outside, fruit, frosting, sugar. The counters are cluttered with extra plates, napkins, and half-empty bowls from the party food.
But sitting in the center of the island are the cakes.
The big one sits in a white bakery box. Minnie Mouse is piped across the top in bright red, black, and white frosting, and written in delicate looping script across the middle are the words:
Happy 1st Birthday Maddy & Madison
Beside it are the girls’ smash cakes. Two tiny round cakes covered in pale pink frosting with little red bows piped around the bottoms.
Perfect.
Sweet.
And in about five minutes, absolutely ruined.
Sarah gasps when I open the bakery box.
“Oh my gosh, it’s so pretty.”
Bella laughs softly. “Give it ten minutes.”
I grin and carefully lift the big cake from the box, setting it on the cake stand I’d left on the counter earlier.
“Sarah, can you grab the little ones?”