“What does that mean, something you could live with?” Her voice was small, and he reckoned she was thinking about the first few jobs she held, working for the club.
“Your job had to have three things going for it. First, it had to be able to support you and Sammy in a way that would take the worry off your face. That was important to you. It was clear just in our short chat you needed to understand you were covered, that you had shit in hand, so it became important to me, too.” He squeezed her, and then kissed the side of her head.
“Second, it had to be safe for you. And, by safe, I don’t mean not juggling chainsaws, but safe around the kind of men the club life attracts. Safe in ways you weren’t even aware you needed to be safe. That was by far the hardest, because everywhere we put you, like bees to honey, you drew in the men. Without even trying, you drew them in. And because of the club shit at the time, I had to keep my distance, couldn’t lay claim to you like I needed, wanted to.”
He stopped talking for a minute, content simply to hold her. She prompted him, “That’s only two. You said there were three?”
“Yeah, the third was I had to be able to see you whenever I wanted. Needed to know where you were. Fucking obsessed, it seemed like. That was me with you.” He rested his chin on her head. “Lots of times I’d keep track of you and you wouldn’t even know. My head was fucking stalker central for a while.”
He laughed. “The back gate at Mercy’s apartment complex got a lot of use. I’d stake out the common yard and watch you through the window, just to be close to you. Trying my hardest to give you and Mercy time to figure out the sister shit you had going on, so I didn’t want to be in your space all the time, but had to see you. Had to know you were okay.”
She made a noise and he shook his head, tightening his arms again. “Let me finish, baby, yeah?” She nodded and sighed. “The night I picked you up at the offices, when you were cleaning? I’d stood in the backyard for two hours, waiting on the lights to come on, letting me know you were home. I was crazy with worry, and then you come bopping out of that building, not even looking around. I couldn’t stay away. Held you.” His voice lowered. “Touched you.”
She nodded. “First time we slept in the same bed.”
“Yeah, hardest fucking thing I ever did, letting you cover up with your shirt and sweats then watching you sleep, my hands on your body, forcing myself to let you sleep without waking you with my head between your legs. Thank God, Sammy was in the same fucking room. Helped keep me honest, yeah?” He shook his head, and then pressed another kiss to her temple. “So, when did you know?”
“The day you took me for my first bike ride,” she said softly, and he sucked in a breath. “I’ve never been possessed by a man the way I am with you. I’ve never wanted to give myself to anyone the way you seem to need…demand from me. But that day, you organized everything, just for me. In order for us to have a little time away, time to be grownups, time to get to know each other. Then, when your plans fell apart because Sammy faked a tummy ache, you didn’t get mad or anything. Took it in stride, you simply accepted things had changed and went with it. I felt safe, and cherished. I felt loved, and loved you in return.”
“I want to marry you,” he said and felt her freeze in place in his arms. “Soon, Hope. As soon as we can work it. I want to marry you. Want to give you my name, give Sammy my name. I love you and, God knows, the two of you are mine forever. This would just make it official.” He paused, but she didn’t say anything, so he asked, “Hope, would you marry me?” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the ring box, turning them so he had room to move.
Putting one knee to the floor, he looked up into the face of the woman he loved. The only person who filled in all the places that, before her, he didn’t even know were empty. He opened the box and removed the ring, gripping her hand and sliding it halfway onto her finger. “Marry me, Hope.”
She stared at him for a moment and then squeezed her eyes shut, and his heart began to pound. Fuck, he thought then sucked in a hard, relieved breath when she said, “Yes.”
Our family
“I’m right then, guardianship is not an option? Way to go is adoption?” Tipping his head back, he stared at the ceiling in the clubhouse office. On the phone with Myron, he wasn’t being provided with the answers he wanted, but would take what he could get.
“Yeah, guardianship is a tough road, plus it doesn’t give you the name change you’re asking about. It’ll be a fuckton easier to get stepparent adoption, especially since you’re marrying his mom,” Myron told him. “We can get the ball kicked off for the adoption; I already know most of the steps. There’ll be the home study, background check, interviews and shit. Sammy is too young to have to sign consent, and I’m assuming you have his mom’s go-ahead on this. That leaves the dad.”
“Not a concern,” Hoss said brusquely, his voice low and angry at the mention of Suiter. “Parental rights were terminated before Sammy was even born, and after the sick fuck kidnapped him, ain’t no judge giving him the time of day where this boy’s concerned.”
“Sammy in counseling?” With this question, Myron’s voice had softened, gone musing, like he was thinking hard.
“Yeah, he sees the counselor once a week just to deal with the fallout from the whole fucking ordeal. When he had to do the depositions, we even set him up twice a week for a while. With their questions forcing him to relive the shit, we did it to make sure we stayed out ahead of anything brewing in his head.” Hoss’ jaw clenched, because every time he thought about Suiter still breathing air, he was struck with the wrongness of it all. He needed to call Jerry, see how that fuck’s life was shaping up for misery and pain.
“Dude or chick?” Myron’s question was out of left field and Hoss had to adjust his thinking for a second.
“Uh, the counselor? Woman. Why?”
“Get the counselor on board. That kind of psych write up will absolutely grease the runners on this thing.” His voice was firm, confident. “You’re marrying Hope on Saturday, right?”
“Yeah, God willing,” he said. This was Monday, and he was working hard to make sure everything was ready by the end of the week.
“Hang up with me; call his counselor. Tell her what he asked you, tell her what you and Hope are doing, and then tell her you’d like to give him his wish on the same day you give his mom your last name. She’s going to suck that emotional romantic shit right the fuck up, and then she’ll feed it to the judge.” Myron laughed. “Am I invited? I’d like to see this shindig.”
“Of course, Myron. And if you get this for me? I’ll kiss you full on the lips, brother.” Hoss grinned, a clear path in front of him, and the confident words of his friend gave him hope things would work out like he wanted.
“Pass on that, man, but I’ll be there Saturday. Text me the deets, yeah?”
***
“I, Hope Annabelle Collins, take you, Isaiah Jude Rogers, to be my lawfully wedded husband.” Hoss heard the words, but couldn’t focus on them. Knew they were important, but all he could do was look at the woman who was marrying him today. Right here, right now, becoming his.
They were in Jase and DeeDee’s backyard, and he was standing in front of their friends, holding both of Hope’s hands in his. Glancing down, he saw Sammy’s smiling face staring up at him from beside Preacher, the Rebel member officiating at the ceremony.
Everything had fallen into place with shocking speed. Not only had their marriage license come through, but also Myron had ridden in today and handed Hoss a thick manila envelope, standing there with a broad grin on his face. Thumping Hoss on the back, he had leaned close and whispered, “Judge came through. Signed papers are in there. He’s yours as of about two hours ago.”
“Hoss,” he heard Hope whisper, and he blinked. She was smiling and tipping her head towards Preacher, so he looked over and saw a grin on the old man’s face. “Your turn, baby,” she said softly, and he looked down at her.
“You are my life,” he said
without preamble. “I’ll do anything to make you happy, anything to keep you safe. Anything that is mine, is yours, but you”—his voice lowered to a growl—“are all mine.” He reached out a hand and rested his palm on top of Sammy’s head. “You and Sammy are my family, and Hope, baby, you own me. Anything I can fucking do, anything you need from me, I’ll make it happen. I will…I do.” He paused and angled his body in, resting his forehead against hers. “I love you, Hope Annabelle Rogers.” He shifted and dropped a kiss on her lips then said, “Got something to deal with. Gimme a sec.”
With her laughter ringing through the air, he knelt in front of her, leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her belly, and then reached to his back pocket to pull out the folded envelope. “Sammy, come out here, son.” Reaching out a hand, he gripped the back of Sammy’s neck, pulling him into an embrace, ending with his forehead against his boy’s.
“Samuel, you were not given a middle name at birth. You’re my boy, my son, and you know I love you, right?” Sam nodded, gaze fixed to his. “Not long ago, you asked me if I could give you my last name, same as I did Mama today, yeah?” Sam nodded again, and appeared to be holding his breath.
With a laugh, Hoss leaned back and told him, “Breathe, son.” He held up the envelope and said, “These papers do two things. One, they say you are my son, from now to forever. My name’s on your birth certificate, telling everyone you belong to me. Two, they change your name from Samuel Collins, to Samuel Isaiah Rogers, so you carry a part of me with you beginning today.”
***
Sam didn’t even notice he was holding his breath until Hoss reminded him to suck in air. He adopted me, he thought, gaze stuck on Hoss’ face. Hoss asked, “Does that sound all right to you, son?”
Reaching out his hand, he cupped Hoss’ jaw in his palm, and then invoked the most solemn words he knew. “No lies.” Hoss shook his head, staring at Sam. “I love you.” He looked up at Mom, reaching up his other hand to grip hers, fingers wrapping tight around her hand. “I love Mom.” He looked back down to Hoss and swallowed, ready to say the words he could never take back, would never want to. “Daddy,” his voice cracked and he swallowed again, and then he saw the wet in Daddy’s eyes and sniffed. “I love you and Mommy.”
Turning, he was still fighting back his tears when he looked up at the preacher. “Can you say the wedding words, but about us?”
“I sure can, boy,” the man agreed, and Sam turned back to stare at his dad as they both listened to the man. “I now pronounce you a family.”
Turning to look at Preacher, he made a face, “Did I mess it up?”
“No, Sammy,” the man said, “you did real good.”
Love, tripled
Hope lay in bed, propped all around with pillows. From them not knowing she was pregnant for months, this baby had definitely made her presence known over the past few weeks. She groaned and reached back to rub her tailbone. Between the headache that had settled behind her eyes and this back pain, she couldn’t find a comfortable position. The OB said her blood pressure was up a little, not really anything to worry about, but Hoss grabbed the recommendation she spend more time resting and ran with it until she was virtually on bedrest as far as he was concerned. As he promised, nothing about this pregnancy was like her first, because she had him.
Two more weeks, she thought, closing her eyes and listening. There were voices in the distance; it sounded like Sam and Jonny were in the living room. Because she was listening so closely, she heard the sound of someone quietly moving up the carpeted hallway, jeans brushing together, the light creak of leather. Without opening her eyes, as soon as the bed shifted, she said, “Hey there.”
His palm skimmed up from her knee, over her thigh, up to her hip, and slipped behind her, taking over the rubbing motion on her low back. His voice low and loving, Hoss asked, “How’s the head, baby?” Sighing, she made a face and he grunted. “Back hurting still?” With a nod, she arched and curved her spine, rocking her hips forward, tilting her pelvis to stretch out the muscles that were tight and painful. “Yeah, I see it is,” he said, crawling across her, pausing in a hover to kiss her temple then settling behind her, using the heel of his hand, as well as his fingertips.
Twisting her shoulders, she leaned back into him, loving how he supported her without a word of complaint. Looking up at him with a smile, catching first her top then her bottom lip between her teeth, she tilted her chin up, silently asking for a kiss. His hands on her always caused the same reaction, and he laughed when he saw the wanting look on her face.
“Baby,” he said with a headshake, leaning in to kiss the tip of her nose. “That belly’s too big, and you know it.” His voice softened, causing her to shiver when he said, “I love you.” He slipped his hand up her side, fingertips trailing over her ribs to cup her breast, gently tweaking the sensitive nipple and drawing a gasp from her. He slid his hand down, palm flat over her swollen belly, slowly and softly rubbing small circles as he went. “I can make you better, though,” he said, his voice now rough with a swell of matching desire, and she felt his erection when he pushed his hips against her.
His fingertips inched her nightgown up and he pressed his hand down between her thighs, clearly surprised at what he found there. Rising on one elbow, he looked down at her with affection and humor in his eyes. “It’s like that, is it?” She nodded with a grin, knowing he had discovered she wasn’t wearing panties.
“Lock the door,” she whispered, running her tongue over her bottom lip. “But, kiss me first.”
Leaning in, he grazed his lips across hers, but she knew this was only his opening move, as it so often was. His kisses came in stages, from the initial, seemingly tentative advances, to breath-stealingly passionate, and then finally ending back at soft and sweet.
Nibbling on her bottom lip, he dragged her mouth open, and then his hand was on her jaw, holding her in place as he angled his mouth across hers, possessing her, driving into her mouth and tangling his tongue with hers. His fingers were softly caressing her cheek, and when he pulled back so their lips were barely touching, she opened her eyes to find him staring down at her.
“I love you, Hoss,” she whispered, and as he always did, he took in a surprised and pleased breath that stirred emotions she had never known until this man walked into her life. “Now go lock the door, because while my belly’s big, nothing’s changed from where you are right now, so I want my husband to snuggle up behind me and love me slow and sweet.” She reached down, pulling her nightgown up and over her head.
“That I can do, baby,” he whispered, pressing another kiss to her lips. When he returned to bed, he had divested himself of his clothes, so slipping in behind her was a delicious slide of skin on skin. Pressing his thigh between her legs, he ran one palm from knee to hip and back down again, then curved his arm, trailing his fingertips up along the inside of her thigh. She knew what he would encounter, so was ready for his whispered, “Fuck, baby. Drenched.”
Twisting her neck, she offered him her lips and he took them, fingers working between her legs, tongue working in her mouth. Kissing her deep and hard, he showed her the edge of his ardent desire, avid, finely honed. All hers.
Tipping her hips to press back into his erection, she reached down and wrapped her hand around his, dragging his palm up her body to her breast. “Mama’s demanding today,” he chuckled, obligingly wrapping his fingers around the soft mound, plumping and caressing her.
She tipped her hips again, and he slipped between her legs, the head catching and dragging against her there. His mouth moved to her neck, and she felt the sting of his teeth followed by a harsh intake of breath when she tipped her hips again, accepting him into her body.
“Fuck, Hope,” he ground out, “feels so fucking good.”
They moved together, apart, then back together, Hope reaching up to cup the back of Hoss’ neck, holding his mouth to her neck and shoulder. She lifted her leg, rocking backwards slightly, draping her knee across his hip, and he gro
aned as he slid deeper inside. “Love you,” he said, the words muffled against her neck.
“I love you,” she responded, and he grunted, sliding slowly in and out. “So much, Hoss. You’ve made my life so full of love, of living. Filled it right up, full to the top. Can’t imagine my life without you, baby. It’s like I was sleepwalking and you woke me up, shook me up.”
She cupped her hand over his again, slowly sliding it down her body, pausing when both their palms were over their daughter inside her belly. “You gave me this, which I didn’t know I wanted, needed, but I did. You made me fall in love with you, and I’m so glad, baby.”
His mouth pressed against her neck, he said, “Gray. That was all I could see most of the time, before you. Precious few splashes of color, and I’d try so fucking hard to capture those moments and hold onto them, because they were so rare. Now, everything is in color. My whole life is shaded in brilliance, because of you.”
Pushing his hand farther down, threading her fingers through his as she placed their hands between her legs, she said, “Faith Inez.”
He stilled, pressed deep inside her, and she felt his body shake, knowing it was with laughter. She lost the heat of his mouth and he asked, “Mama, you just name our little girl?”
She nodded, twisting her head and opening her eyes to look up at him, smiling because, even with his laughter, he had wet in his. “Faith, because…well, I think that one is self-explanatory. Inez means pure, and she is the product of a love so pure and right it fills me up every day, Isaiah. Faith Inez Rogers.”
***
“Hoss, hold up, man,” he heard and swung around to look back into the clubhouse main room. Mason stood in the office doorway. Frustrated, because he was about to head home, he blew out a hard breath and then moved back towards his friend.
“Yeah, boss?” Eyes fixed on Mason, he didn’t care if his restlessness to be gone from here was evident. He wanted to get home to Hope, check on her, and make sure everything was okay. They were only four days from her due date, and with every hour ticking past, his anxiety ratcheted higher.
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