Chapter 25
EVERLY
TWO MONTHS LATER
South Carolina
The heat hits me the second we step off the plane—thick, humid South Carolina air that I grew up with but haven't felt in months.
Rush has his hand on my lower back, guiding me through the small airport.
I'm twenty-two weeks now, showing enough that strangers notice, and he's been protective in a way that would irritate me if it wasn't so genuine.
"You good?" he asks.
"Yeah, just forgot how hot it gets here."
"Different from Dublin."
"Very different."
We collect our bags and head outside, where Phantom is waiting. He's leaning against a black pickup, arms crossed, sunglasses hiding his eyes.
When he sees me, he grins. "Well, look who finally came home."
"Hey Phantom."
He pulls me into a careful hug, mindful of my stomach. "You look good, kid. Pregnancy suits you."
"Thanks."
He turns to Rush and extends his hand. "Rush, good to finally meet you in person."
"You too, sir."
"None of that 'sir' shit, Phantom's fine. Heard good things from Pyro."
The drive to the clubhouse takes about thirty minutes. I watch the familiar landscape roll by—trees I climbed as a kid, roads I learned to ride on, the turn-off to the house where I grew up.
It's strange being back, seeing it all through different eyes. I'm not the girl who left for Dublin anymore. I'm someone else now, someone who chose a different life.
Rush is tense beside me, his hand on my knee.
"You okay?" I ask quietly.
"Yeah, just nervous."
"About what?"
"Meeting your family on their turf. Your dad's already skeptical, now I'm walking into his clubhouse."
"They're going to love you."
"You don't know that."
"I know they'll respect you if you're honest. That's all they care about."
When we pull up to the clubhouse, I see my dad's bike already parked in its usual spot. My stomach tightens with a different kind of nervousness. This is home for him, his territory, his brothers watching. The scrutiny is going to be intense.
Inside, the clubhouse feels both familiar and foreign. I know every corner, every stain on the bar, every story behind the photos on the wall, but I haven't been here in months and it feels smaller somehow. Or maybe I've just outgrown it.
My dad appears from the back and his face lights up when he sees me.
"Everly," he says, pulling me into a hug.
"Hey Dad."
He steps back and his hand goes to my stomach automatically. "Look at you."
"Twenty-two weeks."
"Jesus, you're really showing now."
"Yeah, I am."
His eyes shift to Rush and the warmth cools slightly.
"Rush," he says.
"Diesel, good to see you."
They shake hands and I watch the silent assessment happen—my dad checking if Rush is still stepping up, and Rush proving he is.
Crowe appears and grins when he sees me. "Little Everly's all grown up."
"I was grown up when I left, Crowe."
"Yeah, but now you're really grown up. Having a baby and everything."
He shakes Rush's hand. "Heard you've been treating her right."
"Trying to," Rush says.
"That's all anyone can do."
The afternoon is a parade of introductions. The old ladies I've known my whole life hugging me, asking about the pregnancy, offering unsolicited advice. The brothers I grew up around clapping Rush on the shoulder, sizing him up. Everyone's polite but I can feel the undercurrent.
They're evaluating him, deciding if he's worthy of me. It's exhausting and overwhelming. I finally escape to the back porch for air, and my dad follows me out.
"How are you really doing?" he asks.
"I'm good, Dad. Really good."
"Dublin treating you right?"
"Yeah, it is. I love it there."
He leans against the railing. "Never thought I'd see the day you'd leave South Carolina."
"Neither did I."
"And Rush?"
"What about him?"
"Is he good to you?"
"He's amazing to me, Dad. He goes to every appointment, he's excited about the baby, he's building us a life in Dublin."
"You moved in together?"
"Into the apartment above the clubhouse, yeah. Pyro set it up for us."
My dad's jaw tightens but he doesn't argue.
"I still worry," he says.
"I know you do."
"But I can see he's stepped up. The way he looks at you... that's real."
"It is real."
He pulls me into a hug. "I'm proud of you, you know that?"
"For what?"
"For choosing your own life, for standing your ground when I pushed back. That took guts."
"Thanks, Dad."
"But if he ever—"
"I know. You'll destroy him. Everyone knows."
He almost smiles. "Good."
That evening, there's a barbecue at the clubhouse.
The whole South Carolina chapter is here, families included.
There are kids running around, music playing, and the smell of grilled meat filling the air.
I stand beside Rush and watch him navigate it all.
He's polite but guarded, clearly aware he's being watched.
Phantom appears with beers, hands one to Rush.
"Relax," Phantom says. "Nobody's going to bite."
"They're all judging me."
"Of course they are. You're with Everly. But that doesn't mean they hate you."
"Feels like it."
"That's just protective energy. Give them time."
Crowe walks over. "Pyro tells us you've been solid in Dublin."
"I try," Rush says.
"That's all anyone can ask. You treating Everly right?"
"Yeah."
"You excited about the baby?"
"Terrified but excited."
Crowe grins. "That's the right answer."
I watch the tension in Rush's shoulders ease slightly. He's starting to realize these men aren't his enemies. They're just protective of family.
Later, my dad pulls Rush aside and I watch from across the yard.
I can't hear what they're saying but I see the body language.
My dad's posture is still guarded but less hostile, while Rush is standing his ground without posturing.
They talk for a few minutes, then my dad claps Rush on the shoulder.
When Rush comes back to me he looks relieved.
"What did he say?" I ask.
"That he's watching me, but he respects that I haven't run."
"That's high praise from him."
"Yeah, I figured."
Later that night, Rush and I are in my old room at my dad's house. It's strange being here, surrounded by remnants of who I used to be. Posters on the walls, books from high school, photos of me with friends I haven't talked to in years.
"This is weird," Rush says, looking around.
"What is?"
"Seeing where you grew up. It's so different from Dublin."
"Yeah, it is."
He sits on the bed and pulls me down beside him.
"You miss it?" he asks.
"Sometimes. But it's not home anymore."
"No?"
"No. Home is Dublin now. With you."
He touches my face. "You're sure about that?"
"Completely sure. This is just where I'm from. Dublin is where I chose to be."
"We could stay here if you wanted. I could transfer chapters."
I shake my head. "No, I don't want that. I love Dublin. I love our life there. This is just a visit."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure, Rush. Dublin is home."
He pulls me close and I rest my head on his chest.
"I was scared coming here," he admits.
"Why?"
"Because this is your territory, your family. I thought they'd convince you to stay."
"They couldn't even if they tried. I chose Dublin. I chose you. That doesn't change just because I'm back here."
"Good."
I take his hand and place it on my stomach. The baby's been active all day, probably reacting to my stress.
"She's moving," I say.
His eyes widen. "Can I feel it?"
"Yeah."
We wait and then the baby kicks, firm against his palm. Rush's face transforms, awe replacing everything else.
"Every time I feel that it gets more real," he says.
"I know."
He leans down and presses his forehead to my stomach.
"Hey kid," he says quietly. "We're in South Carolina visiting your grandpa. But don't get too comfortable here. We're going home to Dublin soon."
My chest tightens watching him. He's not afraid anymore, not second-guessing. He's planning, building and staying.
The next day, we spend time with my extended family—aunts and uncles and cousins I haven't seen in months. Everyone wants to touch my stomach, ask about the pregnancy, meet Rush. He handles it better than I expected, polite and present.
By evening I'm exhausted. We escape back to the clubhouse and my dad finds us in the common room.
"You two heading out tomorrow?" he asks.
"Yeah, flight's at noon."
"I'm glad you came."
"Me too, Dad."
He looks at Rush. "Take care of her."
"Always," Rush says.
"And the baby."
"Of course."
My dad nods. "Good. And Rush? You're doing better than I expected. Keep it up."
It's not warm approval, but it's something. After he walks away, Rush looks at me.
"Did he just give me a compliment?"
"I think he did."
"Huh."
"That's his version of acceptance."
"I'll take it."
Later that night, Rush and I are in the guest room Phantom set up for us. The window's open, letting in the night air.
"You tired?" Rush asks.
"Exhausted."
"Want to sleep?"
"In a minute."
I curl against him and his hand goes to my stomach again, protective and gentle.
"What are you thinking?" I ask.
"I'm glad we came but I'm ready to go home."
"To Dublin?"
"Yeah."
"Me too."
"We'll fly back tomorrow."
"Good."
He kisses the top of my head. "Thank you for coming with me."
"Where else would I go?"
"I don't know, somewhere easier."
"Stop saying that. This isn't hard, Rush. This is just life."
"Our life."
"Yeah, our life."
We lie there in the quiet and I think about how far we've come, from that first conversation in the Dublin clubhouse when he was lurking and I was defensive, to now, lying in South Carolina planning our trip home to Dublin.
Home—not away from something, but toward a life we chose. Once, Rush ran from everything that tried to hold him. Now he lets himself be held, by the club, by me, by the life we're building together.
South Carolina is just a visit. Dublin is home, and for the first time in my life, I'm not afraid of the word forever, because forever with Rush doesn't feel like a trap.
The baby kicks again and Rush's hand tightens slightly on my stomach.
"I felt that," he says.
"I know."
"She's strong."
"Like her dad."
"I hope not."
"Rush—"
"I hope she's strong like you. Smart and fierce and brave."
My chest tightens. "She'll be both of us."
"Yeah, I guess she will."
We fall asleep like that, tangled together, his hand on my stomach.
Tomorrow, we'll fly home to Dublin, to our apartment above the clubhouse, to the nursery we're building and the life we chose.
And I know with absolute certainty that this is where we're supposed to be. Not because it's perfect, but because we're choosing it, every single day.
Together.