Page 14

THIRTEEN

TOON

"In the darkest forest, the bear finds its way; trust your instincts." — Unknown

Setting up for a baby shower is not something I ever expected to be doing.

But here I am.

In the clubhouse main room, knee-deep in balloons, ribbon, and a box labeled “baby-themed chaos” that Doll put together.

She promised to show up in a couple hours to “girl it up,” but she left me strict instructions in the meantime.

BW is no help.

He’s sitting on the edge of the pool table, tossing the fancy candied almonds in his mouth and offering critiques like he’s judging a damn interior design contest.

“That banner’s crooked,” he says, nodding at the “Welcome Baby Benji” streamer I’ve just finished taping to the wall.

I look up, squint.

“You’re crooked.”

“Seriously, it’s drooping on the left.”

“You’re about to be drooping from the left if you don’t shut up.”

He chuckles and tosses another almond in his mouth.

“Relax, man. You’re doing fine.”

I grunt, stepping back and eyeing the room.

It doesn’t scream Hellion.

Even though Dia was firm in no blue decorations.

The nursery is motorcycle themed in black and red of course and while she will be fine with putting her son in blue, the décor for her shower needed to be in our colors.

There’s a table for gifts.

Plates and cups and little favors that say “Born to Ride” with tiny motorcycles on them.

I thought it was cheesy at first.

Still do.

But Dia’s eyes lit up when I showed her the sample photo, so that’s all that matters.

This shower it’s not about the baby gear or the cake or even the club showing up to eat all the food.

It’s about showing her that this child, whoever their father is on paper, will never go without.

Not as long as I breathe.

Not as long as the Hellions are standing.

He’s ours.

Me breathing, that’s where the problem is.

Because I don’t know how long that is.

I know what the doctors say and I know what I feel, but some days it is hard to believe it and remain hopeful.

Even when I overcome this, will cancer come back somewhere else?

These things never crossed my mind before.

But being in it, living it, I can’t shake the worry about what my future is.

I take a break from setting up and step out into the yard behind the clubhouse.

The air’s cooler today, a slow shift toward fall finally crawling across North Carolina.

I sit on one of the picnic tables and stretch my back, wincing as the ache shoots through my side.

I pull out a pill from my pocket, anti-nausea, nothing serious, but my hand pauses mid-air.

Footsteps crunch the gravel behind me.

“Figured I’d find you out here,” Tripp says.

I slide the pill back in my pocket and straighten up.

This is a conversation I should have already had.

When my hair only thinned instead of completely falling out, it was like it bought me more time not to tell everyone.

I can’t keep hiding it, though.

Heaven forbid something happen to me, Dia doesn’t need to carry the weight of this too.

He doesn’t sit right away.

Just studies me with that same unreadable expression he’s worn since I prospected.

He knows something’s off.

Of course he does.

Talon “Tripp” Crews sees everything.

He may not be Roundman, but he’s not far off from the man in how he reads the club.

“Got a minute?” I ask.

He nods once and drops onto the bench across from me.

“Always.”

I stare at the ground for a second, grounding myself.

Then I say it.

“I know you sense it. So I need to just say it.”

“You have my attention, Toon.”

“I’ve got cancer.”

The words hang there.

Dry.

Final.

Tripp doesn’t blink.

“Gallbladder. Diagnosed earlier this year. I planned to come back to Haywood’s Landing for treatment before everything went down with Clutch.”

He nods slowly, not saying anything yet.

“I’ve been doing chemo,” I add.

“Trying to keep it quiet. Didn’t want to be seen as weak.”

“Is that what you think we’d see?” Tripp’s voice is quiet, but there’s steel under it.

“Not just weak. Unreliable. I didn’t want anyone thinking I couldn’t do my part.”

He leans back, arms crossing over his chest.

“And what part do you think you’re doing by hiding it?”

That hits harder than I expect.

“I didn’t want to be a burden.”

“You think Dia ever saw you as one?”

My throat tightens.

“You think BW sees you as one? He came to you for his sister. And just so you know, we all approve. Always have.” Tripp looks at me now, fully.

“He knew, Toon. Even Clutch knew and the man only met you in passing.”

I freeze.

“Knew what?”

“That you loved her. That you’d be the one to carry what he left behind.”

My chest aches like he’s pressed a fist into it.

“Dia… the baby…” I say, my voice ragged.

“I’m scared I won’t be around long enough to protect them.”

“Then fight.”

I blink.

Tripp doesn’t raise his voice, but it’s like thunder when he speaks.

“You’re a Hellion. We don’t walk away from the hard shit. We run headfirst into it. You think Clutch didn’t know you were still in love with Dia when he died? That she wasn’t always going to love you? He knew. Not because you laid that shit out and told him, because yeah, I know you did that. No, he knew because a man can sense these things. We all know what you and Dia had and even have now is something neither of you can deny so stop trying to. You think I didn’t know if my daughter ever needed someone in her corner that you wouldn’t step up if it was the last thing you did?”

“I didn’t push her. I was coming back for treatment. BW said she needed support. I didn’t plan for any of this. I didn’t pressure her.”

“I know you didn’t act on it,” he cuts in.

“That’s what makes you the right man for her. You’ve always been about protecting her, even when it meant protecting her from yourself.”

My shoulders drop.

“She loves you,” Tripp adds.

“And she needs you now more than ever. So get your treatment. Take the damn pills. Tell the brothers when it’s time. But don’t you dare think for a second that you’re doing this alone.”

The silence afterward isn’t heavy.

It’s grounding.

I swallow the pill and look out at the tree line.

“I’m scared,” I admit, just above a whisper.

“Good,” Tripp says.

“Means you’ve got something worth losing.”

His words play around in my head on repeat long after he walks away and our conversation is over.

By the time I’m back inside, Doll and Maritza have shown up and taken over the decorations with terrifying precision.

I barely get through the door before I’m handed a roll of tape and told to start on centerpieces.

Dia’s not arriving until later, she thinks we’re just having a casual club lunch.

The surprise is half the point.

I finish the last table and glance around.

The room’s packed with balloons, red and black streamers, diaper cakes, and handmade signs that say “Tiny Biker Riding In.”

The baby doesn’t have a full name yet, just Benjamin.

But they’ve got a family in spades.

Dia walks in two hours later, blinking in the doorway like she’s walked into another dimension.

BW blows a horn.

Maritza shouts, “Surprise!”

Doll grins like she’s orchestrated a wedding.

Dia stares, then bursts into laughter and tears at the same time.

And when her eyes meet mine, I see it.

That quiet kind of love.

The kind that forgives the past and chooses the present.

Later, after the games and the gifts and the million photos I know she’s secretly dreading, we sit together in the back of the room, plates of cake half-eaten in front of us.

Her hand rests on her belly, the curve now visible even through the soft cotton of her dress.

“You did all this?” she asks softly.

I shake my head.

“Wasn’t just me. Club helped. Your mom stepped in and bullied. I mean rallied.”

She smiles, but there’s emotion in her eyes that goes deeper.

“You must be exhausted.”

“Not gonna lie. I’m wiped.”

“You didn’t have to do this for me.” She looks to her belly, “for us.”

“You’re worth it. Both of you. Not a damn thing I wouldn’t do for either of you.”

Her fingers brush mine.

I take her hand and hold it, grounding myself in the warmth of her skin, the rhythm of her breath.

“I don’t think we’re gonna have to buy anything for the first year not even diapers. Who knew Hellions liked to shop so much.” She jokes.

“Ol’ ladies like to shop. Hellions do not shop unless absolutely necessary.”

She laughs and settles in.

“Thank you, Justin. I know it’s hard for you to have much energy these days and trying not to show it adds to the fatigue.”

“Tripp knows,” I share.

Her eyes widen.

“I told him about the cancer. About you. The baby.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me to fight.”

She nods slowly.

Then, almost in a whisper, she mutters, “So fight.”

“I will.”

“For him.” I look at her belly.

“For you.”

She squeezes my hand.

“For us.”