Page 69 of Haunted By the Storm
We finish trick-or-treating with Emily's bag nearly overflowing, her excitement undiminished despite what must be approaching a sugar crash. The clubhouse is already alive with music and laughter when we arrive, the Halloween party in full swing.
Emily spots Ruby and Sera immediately, both girls dressed are once again as bikers in miniature leather vests that match their fathers', and runs to join them, her dress flowing behind her.
"She'll be talking their ears off all night," I predict, watching the three girls put their heads together, no doubt comparing candy hauls.
"Probably," Storm agrees. "But they love her. Everyone does."
The simple statement warms me from the inside out. Emily has found her place here, among these unlikely people, bikers and their families, a community bound not by blood but by choice and loyalty. So have I.
As Storm leads me through the crowd, I'm greeted with warm smiles, with gentle touches on the arm, with acceptance. No one mentions last night, though I suspect they all know what happened. Here, such things remain unspoken but understood.
We find a quiet corner, watching the party unfold around us. Children dart between adults, music pulses, laughter rises above the din. Ordinary Halloween magic, made extraordinary by the journey it took to get here.
"Happy?" Storm asks, his arm a comfortable weight across my shoulders.
I consider the question, really consider it. Am I happy? After everything, the fear, the confrontation, the violence that's part of Storm's world and now, by extension, part of mine? I didn’t think I would be, didn’t think I could be.
"Yes," I answer, surprised by the simple truth of it. "I am."
And I am. Not because everything is perfect. It isn't. Not because the trauma of the past has been erased. It hasn't. But because I'm no longer defined by it, no longer controlled by it. Because I've found strength in myself that I didn't know existed; found family in places I never thought to look.
Because I have Emily, safe and thriving. Because I have Storm, complex and loyal and mine.
Another distant rumble of thunder sounds, barely audible over the music. I feel it more than hear it, a gentle vibration in the air. I notice it, acknowledge it, but I don't flinch.
Storm notices too, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he watches me remain calm. "Progress," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple.
"Progress," I agree.
Across the room, Emily looks up from her conversation with Ruby, catching my eye. She waves enthusiastically, she’s so happy and at peace. I wave back, my heart so full it aches.
This is what it feels like, I realize, to be on the other side of fear. To have weathered the storm and found something beautiful in its wake.
Storm pulls me closer, his heartbeat steady against my side. "What are you thinking?" he asks softly.
I lean into him, watching our makeshift family celebrate around us, feeling the last traces of tension drain from my body as another distant rumble echoes outside.
"I'm thinking," I tell him, "that I might be starting to like storms after all."
His laughter, warm and rich, mingles with the music and the thunder, creating a harmony that wraps around us like a promise. A promise of safety, of belonging, of a future we'll build together, one day at a time, through whatever weather comes.
And for the first time in longer than I can remember, I'm not afraid of what tomorrow might bring. Because whatever it is, we'll face it together, Storm and I with Emily between us. Our unlikely little family finding our way through the calm and the chaos alike.
Some storms destroy. Others transform.
This one, my Storm, has helped me find my way home.
epilogue
STORM
Eight Weeks Later
Snow falls onto the Christmas lights we strung across the porch railing last weekend. Inside, our house is warm, filled with the scent of pine from the tree Emily insisted needed to touch the ceiling and cinnamon from the cookies Camryn's been baking all afternoon.
Our house. Our family. Words I never thought I'd claim, yet here we are.
The official adoption papers for Emily arrived yesterday, an early Christmas present that had her bouncing off walls and Camryn in tears. I'd been working with a lawyer for weeks to make it happen. I wanted it to be official before the wedding. Seeing my name next to Emily's, legally declaring me her father, hit me harder than I expected. It’s a commitment more permanent, more meaningful, than any patch or brotherhood oath.
