Page 82 of StoryTeller's Tale

His arms come around me as he stares at the face beaming back from the wall. At first, he’s tense, and then he relaxes, and his hand moves to rest on my belly.

“Life’s come full circle,” he says quietly. “And this is where I’m meant to be.”

EPILOGUE

CHAZ

THREE YEARS LATER…

“Daddy, Daddy.”

Both of us turn toward the shrill voice, and I smirk as StoryTeller’s face completely softens as he holds out his arms, letting his two-year-old daughter, Maria, run straight into them. After giving him a hug, she steps back and allows me to see what she’s holding scrunched up in her hands.

I suppress a snort as she raises a clumsily made daisy chain. Recognising her intention, StoryTeller lowers his head, letting her place the circle of weeds on his head.

“Daddy’s got a cwown.”

StoryTeller glares at me over her head, an unspoken threat in his eyes which has me grinning and miming zipping my mouth. In a gentle voice he thanks her, pulling her onto his lap.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen, I think to myself, smothering a laugh. But I can’t help but be happy at the way things have worked out for my brother. He’d been in such a bad place when he first went out on the road, I’d worried he wouldn’t come back from it. But he’d coped, survived, and proved himself. My concern then had been he’d developed too much of a taste for the open road and would never be happy at home.

All it had taken was the love of a good woman to sort him out, and Sheri is certainly that. She’s not only provided him with a reason to put down roots, but she’s also had a positive influence on the club.

The clubhouse has changed beyond all recognition since ST brought her back, the touch of femininity, the tempering of behaviour, the now matching couches and chairs. Add in the additive enthusiasm for the life of his child who, it has to be said, we’ve all fallen in love with, and the atmosphere has changed from that of a frat house to one truly belonging to family. We’ve also gained a nurse who’s happy to stitch us up, and who’s now studying to be a paramedic.

Of course, we haven’t changed all that much. We’ve not gone soft, and we still know how to party. We just tend to wait until Sheri and Maria have gone home before letting loose.

I think a few brothers are envious of ST and that he’s found a woman of his own. Not me, of course, I’m too old and jaded to look for my own golden snatch.

“Storwy, Daddy, storwy.”

The childish voice gets my attention back on the pair at my side. When ST settles Maria on his lap, she sticks her thumb into her mouth.

“Yeah, Daddy,” I tease him. “You got a story to tell?”

He manages to show me his middle finger while stroking her hair. Otherwise ignoring me, his eyes focus on his daughter. “What story do you want, sweetheart?”

“The one about the magic book,” she replies without hesitation, twisting on his lap as though getting comfortable for the long haul.

Now I do snort. “I think I know this one.” I laugh at him, getting to my feet. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Later, Prez.” Then all his attention is back on his child. But as I walk off, I hear the beginning. “Once upon a time, there was a handsome prince who found a magic book that belonged to a princess—”

“The princess was in twouble, and the prince had to rescue her.”

Yeah. I chuckle. It’s not the first time Maria’s heard that story. I wonder how long it will be before ST starts giving her the grownup version of how her mom and dad got together, and if they’ll ever admit how she was conceived.

Magic book, my ass. But it’s strange how everything worked out, and actually no wonder that Maria’s named after the author. If Sheri hadn’t lost that particular book and if StoryTeller hadn’t found it, the ending would not have been so happy. Yeah, life can bite you on the ass sometimes and take you in directions you never wanted.

That damn book with the bullet hole in it is framed and has pride of place in their house.

“Hey, darlin’.” I raise my chin toward Sheri, who’s walking toward me, studying her as she approaches. My recollections had reminded me of the nervous woman who’d first arrived, and who’d gradually found confidence, her self-worth and her place. I doubt any of us would want to go back to the time before ST had brought her home.

“I seem to be missing a man and a child.” She grins at me.

“It’s story time.” I jerk my head toward the picnic benches in the yard behind the clubhouse. More acquisitions since she moved in.

“It’s bedtime.” She rolls her eyes.

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