Chapter 21 #2
"No," she says firmly. "Not like your father. Your father enjoyed hurting people who were weaker than him, who couldn't fight back. You defended yourself against people who came at you first."
"It's still violence."
"It's survival. There's a difference."
I want to believe her but the fear is still there. "What if I have a kid and I lose control?" I ask. "What if I have a bad day and I hit them? What if I turn around one day and realize I've become him?"
Everly takes my face in her hands again. "Rush, listen to me. You are not your father and you never will be."
"How do you know?"
"Because your father never questioned himself.
He never sat there terrified he'd hurt his kids.
He just did it without thought or remorse.
But you? You've been questioning yourself since the day I met you.
You walk away when you're angry, you lock down the violence, you make conscious choices every single day to be better. "
The words land hard but I'm still scared. "What if that's not enough?" I ask.
"It will be, because you're already doing the work. You're already choosing to be different."
"But what if—"
"No more what ifs," she says. "Rush, you have already proven who you are. Look at how you are with Ruby, look at how you are with me. You're protective without being cruel; you're strong without being violent. That's who you are."
"That's different."
"How?"
"Because you're adults. You can fight back. A kid can't."
She touches my chest, right over my heart. "Then you'll teach our kid that they can fight back. You'll teach them that they're safe with you, that they can say no, that you'll never hurt them."
"What if I can't?"
"You can, and you will. Because you're going to be an amazing father." The certainty in her voice cracks something open in my chest.
"I don't know how to do this," I admit.
"Neither do I. We'll figure it out together."
"I'm so fucking scared."
"So am I, but we're doing it anyway."
I pull her close and rest my forehead against hers.
"I love you," I say.
"I love you too."
"And I already love this baby."
Her breath catches. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. I don't know how that's possible when it's not even really a person yet, but I do."
"It's possible because you're choosing it instead of running from it."
"I'm done running from things that scare me."
She kisses me soft and deep, her hands sliding into my hair. When she pulls back we're both breathing hard.
"So we're doing this?" she asks.
"Yeah, we're doing this."
"Even though it's terrifying?"
"Especially because it's terrifying. Because it means I have something worth fighting for."
"Rush—"
"No, listen. Being with you changed everything for me. The future doesn't feel abstract anymore. It feels like something I actually want. And this baby is part of that future."
"You're sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm choosing you, I'm choosing this baby, and I'm choosing to be the father I never had."
She starts crying again and I pull her against my chest. "We're having a baby," she says.
"Yeah, we are."
The reality of it settles over us and I put my hand on her stomach. It's flat still. There's no sign of the baby growing inside, but it's there.
Our kid.
Later that night, we're lying in bed and Everly's curled against my side.
My hand is still on her stomach, feeling the flatness of it, trying to imagine what it'll look like in a few months, round and full with our baby.
The thought makes my chest tight with something that feels like joy mixed with terror.
"What are you thinking?" she asks.
"That this is real."
"Yeah, it is."
"And that I'm going to protect you both."
"I know you will."
"No, I mean it. I'm going to protect you and this baby with everything I have. Not with violence, not with fear. But I'm going to make sure nothing hurts either of you."
"Rush, you don't have to—"
"Yes, I do. Let me say this. I need you to know." She's quiet and I keep talking. "I'm terrified of becoming a father, but I'm more terrified of not being there. Of not stepping up. Of letting fear control me instead of love."
She touches my face. "You're going to be an amazing dad."
"I hope so."
"I know so."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because you're already thinking about how to not fuck it up. Your father never thought about that. He never questioned himself. But you're already questioning everything, already trying to figure out how to be better. That's what makes you different."
The words settle something in my chest, something that's been restless for years. "I'm going to be better than him," I say.
"You already are."
"No, I mean it. I'm going to be the father our kid deserves. Patient, kind, protective without being scary."
"Rush—"
"I'm going to teach them that they're safe, that they're loved, that they never have to be afraid of me."
"I know you will."
"And I'm going to love them so much they never doubt it."
She's crying again and I pull her closer. "I'm sorry I was scared to tell you," she says.
"Don't be sorry. You had every right to be scared."
"But I should have trusted you."
"You did trust me. You told me even though you were terrified. That takes courage."
"So does staying."
"I wasn't going to leave you."
"I know that now."
We lie there in the quiet and I think about everything that's changed in the last few hours.
This morning I woke up thinking about club business and what to make for dinner, tonight I'm lying here with my hand on Everly's stomach thinking about our baby, about being a father, about building a family.
It's overwhelming and terrifying, and I have no idea what I'm doing.
But I'm choosing it anyway. I’m choosing Everly, choosing the baby, choosing to build something instead of destroying it.
This is the opposite of everything I grew up with. My father chose violence and fear and control.
I'm choosing love and protection and commitment. That has to mean something. That has to count for something.
"Rush?" Everly says quietly.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you for not running."
"Thank you for telling me, for trusting me enough to tell me even though you were scared."
"I was so scared."
"I know, but you told me anyway."
"Because I love you."
"I love you too, so fucking much."
She's quiet for a second, then she says, "What are we going to tell people?"
"The truth."
"And if they judge us?"
"Then fuck them. This isn't their business."
"My dad's going to lose his mind."
"Probably, but we'll deal with it."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. We've dealt with him before and we'll deal with him again. But, Everly, this is our baby. Our choice. Nobody else gets a vote."
"Okay."
"We're in this together."
"Yeah, we are."
I pull her on top of me and she settles against my chest, her ear over my heart.
"I can hear your heartbeat," she says.
"Is it still going? Because I'm pretty sure I died of shock earlier."
She laughs and the sound makes my chest warm.
"You're going to be okay," she says.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, we both are."
I close my eyes and let myself feel it, the weight of her against me, the reality of the baby growing inside her.
Tomorrow, I'll deal with Ciara. I'll set boundaries that should have been set months ago. I'll talk to Pyro and figure out what this means for the club. Tomorrow, I'll start figuring out how to be a father.
But tonight, I'm just going to hold Everly and let myself feel the weight of what we're building.
A family. Not the broken, violent family I grew up in, but something better, something worth fighting for.
"I promise I'll be good to you both," I say quietly.
"I know you will."
"I promise I'll never hurt either of you the way my father hurt me."
"I know, Rush. I trust you."
"I promise I'll keep choosing you even when I'm scared, I promise I'll keep choosing you too, and I promise our kid will never be afraid of me."
She lifts her head and looks at me. Her eyes are shining with tears.
"That's the best promise you could make."
I kiss her forehead. "I mean it."
"I know you do."
We settle back down and I hold her close, my hand on her stomach, and for the first time in my life I'm not afraid of the future.
I'm ready to step into it. I’m ready to be the man Everly sees when she looks at me, ready to be the father our child deserves.
I’m choosing to build instead of destroy, choosing love over fear, choosing to break the cycle that started with my father and ends with me. And that's enough. It has to be enough.
Because I'm not running, I'm not backing down, I'm not letting fear win. I'm choosing Everly, I'm choosing our baby, I'm choosing to be better than where I came from.
And I'm going to spend every day for the rest of my life proving that choice was the right one.