Page 47 of Better as It

He kisses the top of my head. “Club legacy.”

“You better be the one teaching him how to ride. I’ll be the one wrapping them in bubble wrap and crying during school plays.”

“You’re gonna be the best damn mom.”

I don’t say anything, because I’m scared I won’t be. I’m scared I’ll screw it up. I’m scared they’ll grow up and ask about their real father, and I won’t know how to answer.

But I press back into Justin’s chest, and for now, that’s enough.

Everyone’s been good to me.

I never thought I’d feel like I belonged in the MC world after Benji died. For a while, I floated like a ghost between the clubhouse and my grief, numb and unreachable.

But now?

My mom brings over casseroles and insists on giving me foot rubs. Maritza texts me baby name ideas at midnight. I have a name picked out. I’ve made my decisions and I’m at peace with them. I just don’t want to share that piece yet. So I let my best friend send me all the ideas. I can save them for her whenever she needs ideas. Even BW checks in, dropping off peanut butter milkshakes and pretending it’s because he wants one.

They all know. About the baby. About Justin. About the messy middle we’re living in.

But no one judges.

They just love.

And that’s more than I ever expected.

I started going with Toon to his treatments.

He tried to talk me out of it at first, saying it’s not a pretty scene and he doesn’t want me wasting hours in a beige room while he’s hooked up to a machine.

I go anyway. Karsci handles most things at the rescue, my non-profit business where I love saving and training local dogs. In my current state, I don’t do as much hands ons with the dogs, but I still show up for paperwork and screening potential homes for the animals we take in. Since I don’t work at the Salty Dog anymore, it’s not like I have someone who is going to write me up or fire me if I don’t come in on my designated time.

He hasn’t missed a single doctor’s appointment for me, I won’t miss any more treatments.

The first time, I sit beside him in the chair, reading some cheesy romance novel while he dozes off, blanket up to his chest, color drained from his face.

He looks older when he’s asleep. Like the weight of pretending falls off him.

And I watch him, heart clenched in my chest, wondering how it’s possible to love someone for both who they are and what they carry for you.

When he wakes up, he jokes that I look like I’m reading porn.

I tell him that’s why his heart rate spikes during chapter ten.

And like every treatment, we leave and go home where he sleep most of the afternoon.

Even with the dark circles under his eyes, he’s still the man I’m choosing. Every damn day. The call comes while I’m in the middle of folding baby clothes.

It’s a number I don’t recognize.

“Dia Crews?”

“Yes.”

“This is Lisa Carrington with the District Attorney’s office. I’m calling in regard to the upcoming sentencing hearing for Michael Brenner.”

I stop folding.

My breath catches.

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