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No more self-loathing, Caroline. No more running or hiding. Just let him love whatever there is of you.
The tightness in my chest unraveled—everything unraveled. Every defense I’d ever built just faded, like dust motes in sunlight.
Finally I trusted Knox with my whole heart.
“You think?” I asked, voice dry with feigned disbelief.
Knox gripped the back of my thigh and pulled it around his waist. I gasped, but he swallowed it with a deep kiss and a sweep of his tongue.
When he pulled away, his voice was low and final, “I know.”
EPILOGUE
KNOX
A week later, I still couldn’t believe I told Caroline I was in love with her.
She had yet to say it back, but far be it from me to hold it against her after the hells she’d been through—after her whole life not knowing what love really was.
I certainly didn’t expect her to say it back at Gabriel’s funeral.
She stood tucked against me, dressed in black like the rest of the Devil’s Luck. Her head was bent, the updo she’d twisted her hair into exposing the plastic wrap taped over the fresh ink. Goodbye snarling wolverine patch, hello Devil’s Luck shamrock and skull.
The rest of the Devils were gathered around Gabriel’s buried casket in a loose circle. All the couples were joined at the hip, especially the expecting couples. Sam and Elouise were weeping silently, arms curling protectively over their bumps. Jackson and Abel tried to silently reassure them, even if they were barely holding it together.
We had already said our eulogies.
Now, Black Jack pulled out Gabriel’s favorite whiskey from his jacket—still sealed, having been waiting on his apartment counter for a pour that would only come after death.
With a heavy exhale, Jackson bit the wax seal and ripped it clean off with his teeth. He didn’t flinch, just yanked the cork with a grunt and held the bottle high.
“To Joker,” he said roughly. “Our brother.”
He tipped the bottle forward. That first pour was long, enough to soak the ground. The ceremony of the gesture hit me hard.
Then Jackson handed it off to Mason beside him. The VP’s pour was shorter but no less meaningful. He handed it off to the next Devil, and then the next until it passed from me to Grant.
Gabriel’s best friend.
All eyes were on him as his hands trembled around the bottle. His eyes hadn’t left the dirt since the casket was lowered into the hole. He hadn’t said much in the eulogies, either. He didn’t need to. Everyone, including Gabriel, knew how much Gabe meant to Grant.
Grant swallowed and poured the rest of the whiskey. Then he set the bottle on the polished gravestone. “Miss you, brother,” he said quietly.
A sob burst out of Sam’s chest. She clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle it, but it was already out. Jackson pulled her tighter into his arms, burying her face in his shoulder.
We stood there for a while longer until it started to drizzle.
The women clustered together under the umbrellas that the men sacrificed for them and hurried toward the pickup trucks and bikes. Sam pulled Caroline with her. Over the past week, bad blood was drying up, and better bonds were being formed among the Devil girls.
Jackson and Abel helped Sam and Elle into the trucks and then swung onto their bikes. Suzie got on Jackson’s, resting her cheek on her brother’s back. Mason made sure she was settled right while Carrie and Andy made sure the pregnant ladies were buckled in and buried under fresh tissues. Jameson and Brody weren’t far behind the VP.
Grant had fallen behind. After making sure Caroline was safely in the truck, I joined him.
“Alright, Toke?”
He shrugged. “I will be. Hey, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Yeah?” I asked warily, a bad feeling prickling my spine.