Page 34 of Carver (Satan’s Angels MC #8)

My dad and brother have found my mom in the crowd and they’re hovering around her.

Elowen isn’t crying. She might have been startled by the noise, but now that everyone knows what it was just a firecracker and not something worse, they’re starting to relax.

She’s studying my mom’s face like she’s looking for cues of danger, but my mom smiles reassuringly at her, and then turns to give me a quizzical lift of her shoulder.

Right.

So, my parents have seen a lot of wild things in their time, and not all of it was from their careers.

They had to raise my brother. On a farm.

Gabe went through a phase that lasted somewhere around ten years.

He and his friends were pretty buck wild with the things they invented and got into. Firecrackers are the least of it.

“I’ll go out and get a premade one,” Raiden tells me after Ella pulls back. “There are lots of places here—bakers and grocery stores and stuff, that have cakes. I know that doesn’t make up for it. This was special. You only get your first birthday once around and this should be perfect.”

He looks so serious, and Ella seems as though she’s going to burst into tears.

I’m silent for so long that Ginny elbows me. I shake myself. I don’t have to force a smile. “It’s okay. Stuff like this happens. It makes the day memorable. Cake is cake. You probably know that, though. You’re wearing half of it.”

Raiden lifts his hand slowly. Ella grasps his shoulders and turns him around. His back is covered in white frosting and bits of confetti cake. “Don’t freak out, babe. We’ll get your jacket cleaned up.”

Raiden’s face immediately hardens, getting a little murderous, but Ella knows exactly how to diffuse him. She takes his hand and whispers near his ear, but I still catch enough of it that I hear her say something about licking it off of him.

Great . Now my food fantasies are back full force, and I have a room full of people looking at me. It doesn’t help that a parade of images all themed around the teenage style edging that Dom and I have done to each other over the past ten days, smash into my brain like an airdrop all at once.

It’s still pretty quiet in here. Grave steps out of the kitchen with Tyrant right behind him.

I’ve never seen Tyrant mad, and everyone says that he’s one of the nicest, kindest people anyone could ever meet.

He still strikes me as this curious dichotomy because he’s so young, but he knows so much and he’s in charge of so much.

At the moment, he doesn’t look mad, but he’s clearly annoyed.

Lark, in a billowing vintage prairie dress that I adore, hovers on the periphery, holding her daughter in her arms. It’s a good strategy.

Tyrant visibly melts when he catches sight of his old lady and their daughter.

He winks at her, but keeps a straight face when it comes to Grave.

The twins are big and beefy. They’re well over six feet and look like the typical jock gym rat type. I know that one of them—and darn it, I’m going to have to figure out which one is which—has a jacked-up truck. They’re just that type.

“Sorry about the firecracker, everyone.” Grave clears his throat, pushing out the words like a scolded toddler. “I thought it would be a funny prank. I didn’t know it would make the cake explode.”

“The cake exploded?” Someone exclaims near the back.

“Asshole,” someone else grunts.

“That’s because you’re mentally five.” That comes from Odin, who crosses his huge arms over his massive chest and stances himself out like a bodyguard. “And a dumbass.”

“At least you’re apologizing,” Tarynn offers from beside Crow. He’s the type that I’d normally file under categorically scary . He dresses all in black—not odd for a biker—but he has long black hair and a dark resting scowl to match.

He loops his arm around Tarynn’s waist and it’s impossible to miss the tenderness between them, even before he drops a kiss on top of her pink hair.

“Run out and buy a new cake. Or like… ten, and we might forgive you,” Willa shoots at him from beside Atlas. He’s standing behind her with his arms looped around her waist. “And apologize to the little baby whose first birthday you fudged up.”

To his credit, red splotches start creeping up Grave’s neck.

Dom appears in the kitchen doorway. He leans causally against it, and catches my eye behind Grave. Dravin pushes through the small opening Dom leaves. He’s still wiping himself down with a wet towel. Dom has cake bits in his hair and on his shirt.

Grave might be a big old baddie, but he walks right up to my parents and bows before Ellie. “Sorry, Elowen. I should have known better. That wasn’t funny. I promise you a free bike when you turn sixteen to make it up to you.”

I clear my throat. Dom clears his throat. Half the room clears their throats.

“That was a joke,” Grave protests. “But I will go get you a new cake. We should have got a biker one anyway.”

“Grave, for god’s sake,” Raiden mutters. “You need to get back to the club and figure out how to get my jacket cleaned up. So… cake. Club. Jacket.”

“Yeah,” Grave mutters, the red splotches spreading to his face. “Sorry again. I’m going now.”

At least he does, taking his partner in crime with him.

“That’s hot,” Ginny leans in and whispers. “A man who can admit when he’s wrong. Mmm.” She licks slowly along her bottom lip. Horrifying . She’s a nightmare .

“He’s a brat,” I hiss back. “An overgrown man-child.”

“Where can I sign up?” Ginny sticks the tip of her tongue out at the scowl that I shoot her way. “What? He’s just a little bit rough around the edges. He could use a woman’s sweet touch. Did you see the size of him? He’d definitely go hard.”

I slap my hand over her mouth, but not in time. The words still escape.

“Live out your fantasies,” she garbles out from behind my palm. “Life’s too short to be boring.”

Dravin claps his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Cake’s obviously going to be late, but the rest of the food is ready. So… let’s eat! We’ll do the happy birthdays as soon as Grave is back with his humble pie apology cake deal.”

“It had better be at least ten,” Raiden huffs. He strips his jacket off and sighs over the mess. “And this had better come off.”

Ella whispers something in his ear that makes his lips part, but he seems to forget all about his caked up jacket. He sets his hand on her lower back and ushers her through the kitchen. Since the windows are open, I can see them leave through the back door.

Well, just… shit.

Thank goodness Dom steps back into the kitchen.

If I looked at him and thought any of thoughts ravaging my brain, I’d turn as red as Grave or worse, and then everyone would think that I’m mad about the cake thing.

I’d have to let them think that because I couldn’t explain that really, I’m just crushing on my man, planning exactly how I’m going to live out my fantasies and be anti-boring.

Half of the room empties out into the kitchen and over the next few minutes, the tables set up out front get so full that they’re practically groaning.

We were adamant about not needing gifts, but of course there’s another table at the far side of the room stuffed full.

It’s remarkable how fast a crowd of people this size can get organized and fed. The long tables set up on the far side of the hall get filled up and the room goes from chaos to conversation. I sit with my family, Ellie on my mom’s lap, and Dom sits right beside me.

I don’t mean to glow, but I’m pretty sure that I am. I’ve never been someone who’s afraid of being happy. If it disappears tomorrow, does that meant that fearing that it will and letting that spoil today is going to make it hurt less?

Later, when Grave and Decay return with their arms loaded with grocery store cakes, my sister is the first one to leap up and help them.

And flirt.

Subtly.

But for me, it’s very obvious what she’s doing.

While the twins unbox the eight cakes they got, sticking real candles in them this time and not explosives, Ginny walks back to her place beside Gabe on the other side of the table and mouths something that suspiciously looks like, I got his number.

I shake my head, mouthing back, lose it.

She pretends not to notice.

I’ll hand it to the twins, they might have screwed up big time, but at least they have the balls to stand at the front of the room, apologize again, and lead the singing of happy birthday.

They’re the first ones to burst into a round of applause for Ellie.

The rest of the hall joins in, and so does she, clapping her chubby baby hands so eagerly.

Grave even brings Ellie over a fancy cupcake with a single candle. There’s a flurry of phones out to capture the moment with videos and photos, and then my mom helps her blow it out.

Right as she does, Dom slips his hand onto my lap and clenches my hand. He doesn’t need to mouth any silent words. His awed expression and the sheen glistening in his blue eyes says it all.

We are loved .

We’re a family.

We’re a community.

Dom doesn’t do speeches, but he does spend the rest of the night, long into when people star to trickle out, and past clean up, thanking every single person for making this special day so memorable for us. He thanks them with everything he has, from the bottom of his beautiful heart.

For tonight, everyone gets to see what I see. They get a piece of his soul. They’ve given us parts of theirs in return, and I’m more certain than ever that we ended up exactly where we needed to be.