Chapter 24
RUSH
I wake up, and for a second I don't know where I am, then I feel Everly beside me, her breathing steady and even, and the disorientation fades.
We're at her flat, morning light cutting through the gap in the curtains. I'm used to waking up alone, already braced for whatever shit the day's going to throw, always on edge, always scanning for threats. But this is different, this is calm.
Everly shifts and murmurs something about needing coffee, her voice thick with sleep. I pull her closer and she settles against me without opening her eyes. My hand goes to her stomach automatically, flat still but holding our baby.
The thought doesn't spike my anxiety the way it did a week ago. It grounds me instead.
This isn't temporary. This is my life now, not something I'm passing through or running from. This is actually my fucking life. The weight of that settles differently than I expected. It’s not suffocating, just solid as it settles.
We head to the clubhouse mid-morning after Everly finishes some work at the lab. The parking lot is full when we arrive, bikes lined up in their usual spots.
Tank's in the garage working on his bike with Bozo, music playing low from a speaker. Both give me a chin lift as I walk toward the main part of the clubhouse. The second we enter, it’s chaos.
The kids' toys are scattered in the corner near the pool table, and Gráinne and Chloe are talking by the bar. Both have a smile on their faces.
I've seen all of this a hundred times before, but today it hits different. I see it differently. It’s family. My family.
"Rush!" Tank calls from the garage. "Get over here. I need another set of hands."
I walk over and he grins when he sees me. "How's dad life treating you already?"
"Fuck off. The baby's not even here yet."
"Yeah, but you're already thinking about baby-proofing your brain. I can see it on your face."
Bozo laughs. "Man's got a point. You look stressed."
"I'm not stressed."
"You're always stressed," Tank says. "But it's a different kind of stress now. Like you're worried about someone other than yourself for once."
The observation is more accurate than I want to admit. We work on Tank's carburetor for a while, the conversation easy and familiar. Nobody's treating me like I'm about to break, nobody's walking on eggshells waiting for me to fuck up.
They're just... here, treating me like family who's stepping into something new.
Pyro appears after a while and watches us work for a minute.
"Rush, got a second?" he asks.
"Yeah."
We walk outside to the smoking area even though neither of us lights up.
"You holding up?" Pyro asks.
"Yeah, better than I thought I would."
"Good, because I thought you may have bolted when you found out."
"I thought about it," I admit.
"But you didn't," he says, no judgment in his words.
I shake my head. "No."
He gives me a wide smile. "That says something."
My brows knit together. "What?"
"That you're not the kid who ran anymore. You're the man who stays."
The words land heavier than they should. "I'm trying," I say.
"I know, and Rush? You're doing good. The way you handled Ciara, the way you showed up for Everly, that's solid."
"Thanks."
He claps my shoulder. "You're one of us. Not because of what you can do for the club. Because of who you are when shit gets hard."
I don't know how to respond to that. My whole life I've believed belonging was conditional, something I had to earn through violence or usefulness, but Pyro's saying it's earned through character instead, through choosing to stay when it would be easier to run.
"We're clearing out the spare room upstairs," Pyro continues. "Figure you and Everly might want it when the baby comes. Safer than being off-property."
The words hit me sideways. Not if, but when, like it's already decided that we have a place here long-term.
"You don't have to do that," I say, knowing that my room is sitting empty. They could have used that. Instead, they’re giving us one of the bigger rooms, a family room.
"We want to. You're family, and family makes space for each other."
He walks back inside and I stand there, unsure what the hell to do.
Things have changed. I’ve been stupid. I’ve kept a piece of myself hidden from everyone, my brothers included.
Until Everly. She’s shown me a different way of living.
I’ve opened up, and now I see that I was never on the outside. I was the one pushing everyone away.
They’ve been waiting for me to give them the opening, and Pyro’s just taken it.
I find Everly later in the small garden behind the clubhouse. She's sitting with Ailbhe and Caoimhe, laughing at something one of them said.
I watch from the doorway and something in my chest loosens. She fits here, always has, because she’s let them in. She’s been open to getting to know everyone and hasn’t shied away from the hard parts.
She sees me watching and smiles, waves me over. I walk over and sit beside her, my hand going to her knee.
"You good?" I ask.
"Yeah. We were just talking about baby names."
"Already?"
"Caoimhe suggested Fergus," Everly says with a laugh.
Horror recoils inside of me. "Absolutely not."
The women laugh and the conversation shifts to something else. I half-listen, more focused on the way Everly's relaxed here, no walls up, no guardedness. She’s happy here, happy in general.
Eventually the women drift inside and it's just us.
"You fit here," I say quietly.
She looks at me. "So do you. You always have."
"I don't know about that."
"Rush, these people chose you two years ago when you showed up wanting to put space between you and your past. You've belonged the whole time. You just didn't believe it."
The words hit something deep. "I've never had a place that felt like home," I admit.
"Then stop thinking you have to earn it. You're allowed to stay."
I pull her closer and she leans into me. "When did you get so wise?" I ask.
"I've always been wise. You're just now paying attention."
I almost smile. She's right though. I've spent so much time convinced I had to prove I deserved to be here that I never stopped to realize I already do.
The afternoon passes in the usual clubhouse rhythm. People come and go, conversations overlap, someone starts cooking dinner early. I help Tank finish his bike then move on to my own maintenance.
Bozo tells a story about a run that went sideways last month. Someone turns up the music and a few people start dancing near the bar.
It's ordinary and chaotic and exactly what I need, and I realize something as I'm working. I'm not thinking about leaving anymore. I’m not planning my exit strategy or bracing for the moment someone tells me I don't belong.
New York feels like another lifetime. Juvie is a scar that will always be there, but it doesn't define me anymore. Dublin was supposed to be an escape, a place to hide from my reputation, but it turned into something else.
It turned into home.
I'm not here because I have nowhere else to go. I'm here because I want to be here. I'm choosing Dublin. I'm choosing to build a life instead of just surviving one.
This is where I belong.
Everly and I sit on the back steps watching the sun go down. She's leaning against me, my arm around her shoulders.
"What are you thinking?" she asks.
"That this feels right."
"What does?"
"All of it. Being here, being with you, the baby, the club."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I spent my whole life feeling like an outsider pretending to fit in. Waiting for someone to figure out I didn't actually belong."
"And now?"
"Now I don't feel like I'm pretending anymore."
She kisses my jaw. "Good, because you're stuck here now."
"With you?"
"With all of us."
The noise from inside filters out, laughter and conversation mixing with music. It doesn't spike my anxiety the way crowd noise usually does.
"I never thought I'd have this," I say quietly.
"Have what?"
"People who don't leave. A place that doesn't feel temporary. Someone who sees all the broken shit and stays anyway."
"You're not broken, Rush."
"Parts of me are."
"Then those parts make you who you are. And I love who you are."
I pull her closer and we sit there as the light fades. Tank comes out and tosses me a beer, sits on the steps below us.
"You two staying for dinner?" he asks.
"Yeah," I say.
"Good, because Gráinne's making enough to feed the whole fucking chapter."
Bozo appears with his own beer. "She always does."
We sit there in comfortable silence, and I realize this is what family looks like.
Pyro comes out and leans against the doorframe.
"We're doing church tomorrow night," he says. "You good to be there?"
"Yeah, I'm good."
"Bring Everly. She can be with the old ladies while we have church, then we’ll have dinner after."
The invitation is casual but it means something. They're not separating her from my life here. They're making space for her in all of it.
After everyone drifts back inside, Everly and I stay on the steps a while longer.
"You happy?" she asks.
"Yeah, I think I am."
"You think?"
"I'm not used to being happy, so I don't know what it's supposed to feel like. But this? This feels good."
"Then hold on to it."
"I'm trying."
She touches my face. "You're doing more than trying. You're building it."
"We're building it."
"Yeah, we are."
We go inside eventually and join everyone for dinner. The table is crowded, plates being passed, conversations overlapping. Gráinne tells Everly about her own pregnancy years ago, offers advice that's probably outdated but comes from a good place.
Chloe talks about childproofing and sleep schedules. I half-listen, more focused on the way Everly's engaged with all of it. She’s not humoring them. She’s actually interested.
Tank elbows me. "You good?"
"Yeah, why?"
"You've got that look on your face."
"What look?"
"Like you're about to say something sappy."
"Fuck off."
He grins. "There's the Rush we know."
But he's not wrong. I do feel something shifting in my chest. Not anxiety or fear, it’s gratitude for these people who chose me when I didn't choose myself. For Everly, who saw past the walls I built. For this place that stopped being a hiding spot and became a home.
After dinner, people disperse slowly. Some head out, some drift to the bar, some settle in for the night. Everly and I end up back outside, this time on the bench near the bikes. The night is cool and quiet. Dublin's city lights are glowing in the distance.
"You ever think about leaving?" she asks.
"Dublin?"
"Yeah."
"Not anymore."
"Why not?"
"Because everything I want is here."
She leans her head on my shoulder. "Everything?"
"You, the baby, the club. Yeah, everything."
"What about New York?"
"What about it?"
"Don't you miss it?"
I think about that, really think about it.
"Sometimes I miss Ruby. Miss seeing her grow up. But New York itself? No. That place has too many ghosts."
"You could go back."
"I could, but I won't. My life is here now."
She's quiet for a second. "I'm glad."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, because I can't imagine doing this anywhere else."
"Me either."
We sit there watching the night settle, and I think about how far I've come, from a scared kid in juvie convinced he'd never amount to anything to a man sitting outside a clubhouse with the woman he loves, planning for a future he actually wants.
The path between those two versions of me is messy and violent and full of mistakes.
But it led here, to belonging, to home.
For the first time in my life, I don't feel like I found a place to hide. I found a place to stay, and I'm choosing it. Every single day.