Page 30 of Ace's Legacy
"Yes." I take both her hands in mine. "I want us to have a real home. Somewhere quiet, with a yard, maybe close to your school. I want us to be a real family."
"A real family," she echoes, her expression softening. "That sounds... perfect."
"Yeah?" I can't hide my surprise at her immediate agreement.
"Yes," she says firmly, squeezing my hands. "Absolutely yes. I've been worried about raising a baby at the clubhouse. It's been fine for now, but long-term..."
"It's no place for a kid," I finish for her. "I know. The club will always be part of my life, but it doesn't have to be our whole life."
This is the truth. In the aftermath of our victory over the Vultures MC, Reaper had called a meeting to discuss the future of the Outlaw Order. "We've earned some peace," he'd said. "Time to build something that doesn't require constant warfare to maintain."
The timing couldn't have been better for me. For us.
"We could start looking right away," Sarah says, excitement building in her voice. "I have some savings, and—"
"I've got money," I interrupt. "Been saving almost everything I make for years. Never had anything worth spending it on before."
Before she can respond, Dr. Monroe returns with a small envelope. "Here are your pictures," she says, handing them to Sarah. "I want to see you back in four weeks for your sixteen-week checkup."
Sarah thanks her, and the doctor leaves us again to get dressed and check out. I take the envelope when Sarah offers it, slowly extracting the small black and white images. Our baby, from different angles. The same alien-like blob, but now it's the most important blob in the universe.
"I can't believe we're doing this," Sarah says as we gather our things. "Buying a house together."
"Believe it," I tell her, feeling lighter than I have in years. "I'll talk to a realtor tomorrow."
As we walk out of the doctor's office into the bright Pine Haven sunshine, I can't help but marvel at how different my life is now compared to just a month ago. Then, I was living for the next fight, the next adrenaline rush, the next meaningless hookup.
Now, I'm planning a future, thinking about mortgage rates and school districts, wondering if I should start a college fund.
Sarah takes my hand as we approach my truck, her touch still sending electricity through me after all this time. "I'm glad you were there today," she says. "It meant a lot to me."
"Wouldn't have missed it," I tell her honestly.
And I mean it. Wild horses couldn't have dragged me away from that ultrasound room. Nothing short of death itself would have kept me from seeing my child for the first time. That's how I know I'm changed, fundamentally and irrevocably.
I help her into the passenger side of my truck, then walk around to the driver's side. Before starting the engine, I take one more look at the ultrasound pictures. Our baby. Our future.
"Everything okay?" Sarah asks, noticing my hesitation.
I tuck the pictures into my wallet. "Yeah," I say, feeling a smile spread across my face. "Everything's perfect."
And for the first time in my life, I actually believe it.
Epilogue - Sarah
Two years later
"Come on, Evie! I can't be late picking up Ellie from daycare," I call out, checking my watch as I climb the clubhouse steps.
The September air has that perfect crispness that makes me think of apple cider and pumpkin patches. Activities I need to add to our weekend plans. At two years old, Ellie is old enough now to enjoy fall traditions.
Ellie. Our daughter. The thought still brings an involuntary smile to my face. Eleanor Grace Carter, with her father's striking green eyes and my brown hair, a perfect blend of us both. The little girl who made me a mother and transformed Ryan from restless outlaw to devoted father.
The clubhouse door is unlocked, but surprisingly quiet as I step inside. "Evelyn? I got your text about the book club meeting, but I can only stay for—"
I stop short, my words dying in my throat. The main room of the clubhouse has been transformed. The usual pool tables and bar stools have been pushed aside, replaced by strings of twinkling lights hanging from the ceiling. White rose petals form a path across the hardwood floor, leading to the center of the room where Ryan stands, looking more nervous than I've ever seen him.
He's wearing a crisp button-down shirt instead of his usual t-shirt, his blond hair neatly combed, his face freshly shaved. No leather cut in sight.
