Page 35

EVEREST

The sun is starting to dip behind the cypress trees lining the back of Pop’s property. A few yards away, the old man throws another log into his old smoker as heavy smoke drifts on the breeze, carrying the smell of hickory. A few feet away, Riggs and Nova are manning the crawfish pots.

I’m standing on the porch, taking it all in, with a cold beer and sweat sliding down my neck. It’s loud with laughter and chatter, but beneath all the noise is something quieter. Peace.

And it’s been a hell of a road getting here.

The Velasco bloodline is dead.

We made damn sure of that this time.

The ghost of a man who watched every move we made after his father’s death is nothing more than a bloodstain in my memory.

But today isn’t about all that.

Today is for living.

For breathing easy.

The last few months have crawled and flown by in the strangest way.

Some days, it feels like I just watched Velasco take his last breath yesterday.

On other days, it feels as if it was a lifetime ago.

I still get an itch at the base of my spine sometimes, that feeling like a storm is brewing, even when I know the threat is gone.

And through it all, my woman didn’t just survive being taken and put through hell twice, she burned through it and came out on the other side stronger and still filled full of that fire and sass that makes her who she is.

We’ve been building something real since then. And I don’t just mean the time spent behind closed doors. It’s more than that.

A while back, I bought some land just outside the city, several acres of quiet, bordered by woods, with a small lake.

It’s peaceful out there. Wild and untamed land.

The kind of place that muffles the world.

And ever since, we’ve been sketching ideas, dreaming out loud, and watching the bones of our future take shape.

And fuck, if that doesn’t scare the hell of me in the best possible way.

I’m halfway through a pile of crawfish, potatoes, and corn an hour later when I hear a vehicle coming down Pop’s long driveway.

A dark sedan pulls up slowly. I glance at my woman, and she’s noticed the car too.

The driver steps out, walks around to the passenger side, opens the door, and her mom, Faye, steps out.

“Mom?” London says, her voice mixed with surprise and confusion. She moves fast, jogging across the yard toward her, and I sit back, watching them embrace. “How are you here?” London asks her mom as they walk back slowly with Faye’s nurse, Mary.

“Kallum set it all up, sweetheart.” Faye winks at me.

Mary steps up. “Since she is having a good day, her doctor approved a day pass.”

Getting Faye out here was a long shot because there’s no way of predicting which days will be good. Alzheimer’s is a fucking cruel disease, and since being with London, I’ve witnessed what it can do. But right now, her mother knows who she is and where she is. And that’s what truly matters.

Faye scans the table, then looks around the yard, taking in all the unknown faces she has around her. “So, these are the outlaws I’ve been hearing about?”

Promise laughs, walks up, and hugs Faye. “In-laws, if Everest plays his cards right.” She pulls back. “It’s good to see you.”

Faye smiles at Promise and touches her cheek. “It’s good to see you too.”

London leads her mom around, introducing her to our family. They invite Faye into the mix with open arms as if her being here has always been this way. Luna offers Faye a chair, and Tequila pours her a cold glass of sweet tea.

I watch the moment unfold, grateful that my woman and her mom are creating a new memory London will have to hold on to.

And all I can think about is that this, right here, is what life is all about.

This is what we fight for.

What we sacrifice for.

I get up to grab a beer when I hear another engine rolling up the dirt drive, a white SUV this time.

It stops at the edge of the grass. The driver’s door opens, and out steps my old man, tall, broad, with gray hair and full of grit, dressed like he just stepped out of his garage back home.

He shades his eyes, scanning the yard, until he spots me.

Then the passenger side opens, and my mom climbs out, wearing a bright, big smile, one I haven’t seen in a year outside of FaceTime.

“What the hell…” I smile and look back at my woman.

Her smile says everything. She did this.

I cross the yard and wrap my mom in a hug that damn near breaks something in my chest.

“Kallum, sweetie, I can’t breathe,” Mom squeaks.

I loosen my hold and look down at her beautiful face. “What are you doin’ here?”

“That beautiful woman of yours flew us out.” Mom’s face beams with excitement, her voice thick with emotion.

Dad grabs my shoulder, rough and solid like always. “You look good, Son.”

I pull him in for a hug, and he pats my back. “Missed you, Pop.”

My old man clears his throat. “Missed you too, Son.”

I stand there for a beat, just my parents and me, grounded by the people who made me. And I have one person to thank for it. I turn, locking eyes with London, who is walking toward us. When she’s within arm’s reach, I pull her into me. “Thank you.”

She shrugs, wearing a smile. “Figured you could use a reminder of home before you start building our own.”

I kiss her forehead. “You know how much you mean to me, right, babe?” I pull back, staring at her for a beat, still amazed that she’s mine.

London grins. “You’re so obsessed with me,” she teases.

I pull her tighter against my chest. “Damn right, I am. And ya know what else?”

London laughs. “What?”

“I’m gonna marry you one day.” The words come out before I can stop them.

She stares at me and, without hesitating, says, “Damn right you are.”

We’re all sitting together, table covered in empty crawfish shells and empty beer bottles as the sun sinks into the bayou.

The sounds of nature fill the air with the rhythmic chirping of cicadas, mixing with the occasional frogs croaking from the trees.

A soft breeze blows, bringing the earthy smell of damp soil and adding to the peaceful feel of a moment filled with laughter and conversation.

Riggs stands, lifting his beer, and everyone quiets down.

His eyes sweep the table full of people who have bled together, buried together, and stood through fire together.

“We all came out here to eat, drink, and raise a little hell,” he begins.

“But there’s another reason I wanted the family together today.

” He glances down at the end of the table.

“Catcher,” Riggs says. “Since day one, you’ve taken everything we’ve thrown at ya without bitchin’ or backin’ down.

You’ve been through hell and back, even died for a minute.

You spent weeks in the hospital clawing your way back.

And through it all, you never stopped believing in what this patch means. ”

He places his drink down, reaches under the table, and pulls up a new cut with fresh stitching, ‘KINGS OF RETRIBUTION MC LOUISIANA.’ Then Riggs looks right at me. Typically, this is the club president’s job, but this time, Riggs gives me the floor, allowing me to have the honor.

My throat becomes tight as I stand and take the cut from him.

It feels heavier than anything I’ve ever held as I walk to Catcher, who is already pushing himself up, still sore, still healing.

I slide the cut over his shoulders. “You didn’t hesitate lookin’ death in the eyes to save the woman I love,” I tell him.

“You bled for her, for the club. You’ve earned this. ”

Catcher stands tall, swallowing hard.

I pull him in for a hug, clapping him on the back. “Thank you, brother.”

The yard erupts with cheers, chanting “Catcher,” and bottles banging against the table’s surface.

Catcher wipes a hand over his face, brushing away the emotion.

But we all see it.

We all feel it.

Family ain’t just blood.

Sometimes, it’s the man who nearly dies protecting what you love most.

It’s the ones who bleed for the club.

The brother who rides and dies beside you.

That man is…

Kings of Retribution.