by Joanna Wylde
“Don’t worry about it,” I replied, holding back my own tears. “We’re going to get through this. All of us. Together.”
“Yes, we are,” she said. “I can’t believe you did that. How can I ever thank you?”
“Promise that you and Margarita will never take me out again and we’ll be even.”
Carrie laughed.
“I’m not sure I can keep that promise. But I’ll try.”
“No you won’t.”
She laughed again.
“No, you’re right. I won’t try. But I love you.”
“Love you too.”
GAGE
An hour later, I stood on the porch, watching as Tinker and Carrie pawed through the Mustang’s trunk together, laughing like it’d been a year since they’d seen each other. Guess that made sense—the past week had felt as long as a year. My phone rang, and I pulled it out of my pocket, not recognizing the number. I answered it anyway, figuring it might be one of the brothers on a burner.
“Hey, Gage,” Talia said. “Have to say, I liked the name Cooper better. Miss me?”
“No,” I said shortly.
“See you’re back in town,” she continued, and I looked around, wondering if the bitch was spying on us right now. “Shame about your girlfriend’s building. I was hoping it’d go up with the rest of the them, but we don’t always get what we want, do you?
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She giggled. “That next time I’ll have to plan better. You can’t blame me, though. I’ve never burned down a town before. There’s a learning curve.”
I stilled. “What did you just say?”
“That I started the fire,” she replied, her voice growing more serious. “You know, when I blew up the clubhouse—you should just be thankful I needed you out of there to set it up. Otherwise you’d have blown up, too, but I couldn’t figure out how to pull it off. Burning down the town was a nice bonus, though. Marsh says hi, by the way. He wanted me to pass along a little message.”
“And what’s that?” I asked, eyes searching the street even as I reached for my gun. Was she out there?
“He said to tell you that if we can’t have Hallies Falls, you can’t either,” she told me. “Oh, and Gage?”
“Yeah?”
“Fuck you.”
The phone went dead, and I lowered my hand, slowly sliding it into my pocket. Sociopathic cunt. Tinker turned toward me, smiling so beautifully that it hurt, and right there I made a vow. I’d protect her. Forever. Didn’t matter what happened or who I had to kill.
I’d take care of her.
I’d take care of this town, too. Cord and I needed to get together, start making plans to rebuild, because I’d be damned if I’d let them win.
EPILOGUE
NINE MONTHS LATER
HALLIES FALLS
GAGE
“Anyone got an extra pair of gloves?” Cord asked, holding up a torn leather work glove in disgust. We’d been clearing out debris from the old clubhouse for the entire morning, and while we hadn’t managed to salvage much, we were making good progress overall. This was important, because nearly fifty Reapers would be pulling into town next weekend to help us put up a new building. Our goal was to raise the clubhouse in four days. Totally doable, provided we did the right prep work in advance.
“I’ve got some,” I told him, mentally adding more work gloves to the supply list. The building hadn’t been covered by insurance, but we’d gotten a lot of support from the other chapters. Between their fundraising and our sweat equity, things were looking good. Walking over to my truck, I opened the tool box in the back, digging through as I searched for the gloves. Like everything in Hallies Falls these days, the truck was filthy. No matter how much we cleaned, the soot and ash clung to everything.
There were signs of life though, too.
New grass poked through the barren landscape, and the other day I’d seen a deer and her fawn carefully picking their way down a hillside. The sound of construction filled the air, and while we’d lost a huge chunk of the population, people were starting to come back and rebuild.
My phone rang, and I pulled off my glove, tucking it under my arm as I answered.
Tinker.
“Hey babe. We’re getting good work done here—”
“It’s time.”
I froze. “What? But I thought we had a couple more weeks?”
“Apparently not,” she said, her voice full of excitement. “Meet me at the hospital, okay? And shower first. Carrie’s driving me and we’re leaving now.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling almost dizzy. Fuck. It was too early. I still had so much to do, we hadn’t even finished painting the back bedroom, and . . . crap. This was happening. It was really happening. I had to pull my shit together, and fast. “All right. I’m headed to the house now. Is your dad with you, or should I give him a ride?”
“He’s with me,” she said, sounding happier than I’d ever heard her. “I can’t tell who’s more excited, me or him.”
“Drive safe,” I told her, but she’d already hung up. Then I turned to look at Cord, who’d come to stand next to me, a puzzled expression on his face.
“Everything okay?” he asked. I nodded slowly, trying to think.
“Yeah. The baby’s coming.”
“Now? But don’t you have a couple—?”
“Apparently nobody explained that to the kid,” I told him. “Stubborn already. I’m so fucked.”
Cord grinned at me, then slapped my back.
“Yeah, you really are.”
• • •
An hour and a half later I pulled into the Mid-Valley Hospital parking lot. I’d taken the fastest shower on record, but even pushing the upper edges of the speed limit, it still took a while to reach Omak. The whole thing still felt surreal, but also exciting. Tinker had been sending me updates every five minutes, and I could sense her mix of excitement and nerves.
She’d been waiting for this day her entire life, but she was scared, too. No matter how many times they told her the baby was perfectly healthy, she kept remembering Tricia.
All the ultrasounds looked great, though, which was a good thing. I wasn’t sure she could survive losing another child.
Tom Garrett met me in the lobby, leading the way to the maternity wing, smiling broadly the entire time. He was a thousand times better since he’d gotten off the meds. He still had his moments, of course, but we didn’t have to worry about him being alone anymore. Not that it was a big problem these days—he and Mary spent almost every minute together. When we’d told them about the baby, Mary had announced he’d be moving in with her to give us space, and that was the end of that.
“How’s she doing?” I asked, wiping my hands on my pants. Nervous sweat. Fuck. Kid wasn’t even born yet, but this whole father thing had me scared shitless.
“Great,” Tom said. “Tinker’s in with her. The labor’s going fast, especially for a first baby. And I have good news—she said you could be in the labor room if you want. So long as you stay up by her head. Guess she doesn’t want you seeing more than you need to.”
I swallowed, not sure how I felt about that. Tom laughed, seeing right through me.
“Do it, son,” he said. “I was there when Tinker was born. Back in those days they didn’t like having the father in the room, but Tricia was stubborn as hell. After an hour of arguing, they wised up and realized they should go ahead and give her what she wanted.
We signed in at the birthing center, which had impressive security. I liked that—meant some freak wouldn’t be able to walk off with our little girl. Then they opened the doors and Tom led the way to the birthing suite, and I heard a woman crying out.
“Stay strong, son,” Tom said, chuckling. “It’s not you who has to do the heavy lifting today.”
He knocked on the door, and Janelle Baxter opened it, her face tight with strain.
“Hey, Gage,” she said. “Sadie said you could come in, but she’d like you
to stay up by her head. There’s a sheet, and if you happen to see too much, just don’t say anything about it, okay? This is a tough day for her.”
“She’s a brave young woman,” I said, meeting her gaze. “How’s she holding up?”
“Good,” Janelle responded. “It’ll be hard on her, I think we all know that. But it’s also the right decision. She isn’t having second thoughts.”
I swallowed, nodding my head. Tinker and I had discussed the possibility, of course, but neither of use liked thinking about it.
Inside the room, Sadie was on a bed that’d been tilted way up, with a bar hanging over it for her to hold on to. The midwife was sitting on stool between her widespread legs, and Tinker stood next to her, holding her hand. The midwife glanced up.
“Just in time,” she said. “This baby’s excited to be born—first births usually don’t go half this fast.”
Sadie was panting, her face utterly focused.
“There’s another one coming,” she gasped.
“Go ahead and give me a big push,” the midwife said. “Her head is just starting to crown. We’re getting closer, Sadie girl. You’re doing a great job.”
“Mom, come hold my other hand,” Sadie said, and if she saw me, she didn’t give any sign.
I’d been a member of the Reapers MC for a long time, and over the years I’d seen a lot of shit. Brave men, strong men. Men who gave everything for the club. I can tell you with all honesty, though, that I never met any man stronger than Sadie Baxter was that day. I mean, I knew giving birth was hard. But knowing it and seeing it for yourself, well, that’s a different thing entirely. I lost track of time as Sadie pushed, shoving our baby into the world inch by inch. Sweat ran down her face, but she clutched hands with her mom and Tinker and she pushed.
It wasn’t fast and it wasn’t easy, but half an hour later our baby girl finally slid out into the midwife’s hands.
She came into the world pissed off, which seemed only fair, given how she’d been conceived. We’d never know who fathered her, and I couldn’t have cared less. When the midwife lifted that bright red, angry, smelly little miracle up and she screamed at all of us, I knew she’d be a survivor, just like Sadie.
“Do you want to hold her?” the midwife asked Sadie. She nodded, and I saw Tinker flinch. Yes, we’d signed all the papers. Sadie hadn’t wavered in her determination to give up her baby through the entire pregnancy, but we’d gone into this knowing it could happen.
“Yes,” Sadie whispered, glancing at Tinker. “Just once. I want to hold her once. Then I’ll give her to her mother, okay?”
The midwife nodded, her face full of compassion as she pulled Sadie’s gown open, laying the infant on her chest. Sadie’s arms circled her, and she leaned down, nuzzled the small, damp head covered in a shock of black hair. Tinker stepped back, and I came to stand behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist.
“Would you like us to clear the room?” the midwife asked, and we all held our breath.
Then Sadie shook her head.
“No,” she said, looking up at Tinker. “You know I’ll always love her. But she’s your baby, not mine. I’m not ready . . . No. Just take her now. Before I change my mind.”
Tinker moved forward, hesitantly lifting the child into her arms. Leaning over, I took in the tiny nose and small, angry eyes. What a little fireball. I reached down, touching her soft cheek. She smacked at me with one little hand, but when my finger touched her lips she opened them, sucking it in hard.
“She’s strong,” Tinker whispered.
“Yeah, she is.”
“I’d like you to leave now,” Sadie said, and I looked over to find her lying back on the bed, head turned away from us. “I don’t think I can watch.”
“Of course,” a nurse said, and she led Tinker out of the room. I followed, touching Janelle’s shoulder as I passed. She caught my hand, giving it a squeeze.
“I’ll take good care of her,” she said. “And you take good care of my grandbaby.”
“That’s a promise,” I said. Then I walked across the hallway to the other room, wondering how the hell a man as bad as me could’ve gotten so damned lucky.
Tinker looked up as I walked in, a smile wreathing her face.
“I think we should name her Joy,” she said. “Because that’s how I feel right now.”
Joy.
I liked the sound of it.
Liked the sound of it a lot.
TWENTY-TWO YEARS LATER
TINKER
“Are you ready for this?” Gage asked, looking me over as I walked into living room. “You look gorgeous.”
I swirled, showing off the dark blue gown I’d chosen. Thankfully, our girl had let me pick my own dress, one that flattered me, which wasn’t a surprise. All she’d wanted was a simple wedding surrounded by the people she loved. We’d decorated the courtyard gazebo my father had built, and while I’d lost him nearly ten years ago, whenever I saw it, I felt his presence.
When Joy told us she wanted to get married under it, I swear, I heard him laughing all the way from heaven.
Outside, the guests were already sitting in neat rows of folding chairs, and we’d hired a string quartet to play during the ceremony. I’d considered catering it myself, but Carrie convinced me to hire it out instead. She told me I should be worrying about Joy that day, not food, and as usual she was right.
Now Joy was upstairs, putting the final touches on her makeup. Gage would walk her out through the front door of the house, across the lawn and then up to the gazebo through the narrow aisle we’d created with the chairs. There he’d be giving her away to Enrique Saldivar—quite possibly the bravest young man who’d ever lived, because even when Gage and his Reaper brothers growled at him, he still kept coming around.
They were so in love.
Carrie walked in from the kitchen, looking me over.
“You look good,” she said. “But don’t let Gage kiss you. That’ll ruin your makeup. Sadie is here, along with Janelle. They’re in the kitchen. She asked if she could see Joy before she goes out.”
Gage raised one scarred brow, a souvenir of a brutal attack he’d survived seventeen years ago, but he didn’t comment. It’d been an open adoption. Strained at times, but we’d done our best to give Joy a good life, and part of that had been realizing that Sadie had a role to play, even if she couldn’t be her mother.
“I’ll go check with her,” I said, heading up the stairs.
Joy was in our bedroom, surrounded by her bridesmaids as she twirled, showing off her gown in the standing mirror I kept in the corner.
“Hey Mom,” she said happily as I walked in. “I can’t believe it! Is it time yet?”
“Almost,” I said, smiling. “But I need to talk to you first. Girls, can you give us a minute?”
The gaggle scattered, giddy with excitement. Joy turned to me.
“If you want to talk about sex, Enrique and I have been sleeping together for three years,” she said dryly. I rolled my eyes.
“No. I wanted to let you know that Sadie Baxter is downstairs. Along with her mother, Janelle. They were hoping to see you before the wedding. I said I’d ask.”
Joy grew thoughtful, and she cocked her head at me. “You know that you’re my mother, right?”
“Of course,” I said, smiling. “I also know she gave birth to you, and she still loves you. But it’s your wedding day and you should get to make your own choices. Just tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen.”
Joy nodded slowly.
“I think it’d be okay,” she said. “But I’d like you to stay in the room. Is that all right?”
“Of course, baby. Whatever you need.”
With that, I left to find Carrie waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs.
“Send them up,” I told her. Minutes later, Sadie and Janelle climbed up the stairs, meeting me in the hallway. Sadie looked good—she’d really made something of herself over the years. It’d taken a while, but once she
got away from Hallies Falls things had started to come together. We’d helped her through college and now she had a good job as an accountant in Wenatchee.
“Thanks for this, Tinker,” she said. “I don’t want to horn in on your special day, but I really wanted to see her.”
I nodded, then knocked on the door.
“Come in!” Joy called, and I pushed it open. Sadie walked in and stopped, staring at the vision that was my daughter.
“You’re beautiful,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“Thank you,” Joy said, smiling. “It’s almost time. Was there something in particular you wanted to talk about, or did you just want to say hello?”
Sadie laughed. “I was hoping you’d let me give you a present. Something old, unless you’ve already got that covered.”
“There’s always room for more good luck,” Joy replied, and Sadie held out a jewelry box. Joy opened it, pulling out a small pin with a pretty, polished rock on it. It wasn’t anything special, and from the look on her face I could tell she was confused. So was I.
“I found that outside the hospital,” Sadie said, blinking rapidly. “The day after you were born. It was in the parking lot. I don’t think it’s worth anything, but I liked it. For a long time I kept it in my pocket. Sort of my way of remembering you. I’d rub it when I was feeling tired or sad, and think about all the amazing things you’d be able to do when you grew up. A few years back I took a jewelry making class and turned it into a pin. I realize it doesn’t go with your dress, but it’s just small. I was hoping that maybe you’d pin it under your skirts somewhere—just so a little piece of me could be with you when you walk down the aisle. You’re not my daughter, but I’ve never stopped loving you and I never will.”
Tears welled up in her eyes, and Joy shot me a look. I nodded, letting her know that it wouldn’t bother me.
“Would you like to help me pin it on, Sadie?” Joy asked, and Sadie nodded. Joy lifted her skirts, and Sadie knelt down next to her, fastening it to the petticoat underneath.
Then someone knocked on the door.