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Smart woman. Already thinking about security, just like I’d been. “I’ll handle that part,” I assured her. “Thought it might be good for the boys. And you. Something normal.”

“Normal sounds wonderful,” she said softly. In the background, I heard dishes clattering. She must be at the diner still. “What day were you thinking?”

“Saturday? I can get Aura to come too.”

“She’ll be thrilled.” The smile in Amelia’s voice made something warm unfurl in my chest. “Chase has been talking about her new motorcycle project all week.”

“Got it from a junkyard,” I confirmed. “More rust than metal, but she sees potential.”

“Like father, like daughter.”

The simple observation caught me off guard. Was that how Amelia saw me? Someone who found potential in broken things? The thought made me uncomfortable in a way I couldn’t define.

“I should get back to work,” she said after a moment. “But, Hammer? Thank you. This means a lot.”

“Just a fair,” I muttered, suddenly self-conscious.

“It’s more than that,” she replied. “I’ll see you at home.”

Home. The word hung in the air even after I ended the call. My house had become home because of her. Because of those boys. Because of the family we were awkwardly forming out of necessity and circumstance.

I shook off the sentiment and switched to security mode. A public outing meant exposure. Exposure meant risk. And with Piston still out there somewhere, I wasn’t taking chances. I scrolled through my contacts and placed another call.

“Viking,” came the graveled response.

“Need your eyes Saturday,” I said without preamble. “County fair. Taking the family.”

To Viking’s credit, he didn’t comment on “the family” part. “Time frame?”

“Midday to evening. Four others plus me.”

“Piston situation?”

“No concrete intel but not taking chances.”

“Copy that. Want me to bring Freya? Make it look casual?”

Smart. Viking’s friend Freya could blend in, watch areas I couldn’t. “Good idea. Bring the boy too if you want.” Freya’s son was a little younger than Levi, but he would help them blend into the crowd.

“Will do. Who else you calling in?”

“Prophet, Sticks, Warden.”

“Solid choices. I’ll coordinate with Prophet on surveillance points.”

After hanging up, I called Sticks and Warden, then Prophet.

“Already talked to Viking,” Prophet said after I laid out the plan. “I’ll ask Wire to tap into the fair’s security cameras. Got a guy who owes me working their system.”

“Need eye-level surveillance too,” I told him. “Blind spots.”

“On it. Going as a family man these days, huh?” The observation held no judgment, just mild curiosity.

I grunted noncommittally and ended the call.

Then I looked at my phone, scrolling to a photo Aura had sent me last week -- her arm thrown around Amelia’s shoulders, Chase looking uncomfortable but not angry for once, Levi with a small smile.

My family. Not by blood or choice, but by fate and necessity.

And now, increasingly, by my own desire.

I’d already had kids. One by blood, one adopted.

So, why was it only now I was starting to truly feel like a father?

I stared at their faces, my weathered thumb hovering over the screen. What Dice had said echoed in my head: “ Don’t waste this chance at happiness just because you’re scared, old man .” Maybe he was right. Maybe I’d been holding back because I was afraid of how much I was beginning to care.

I tucked the phone away and grabbed my keys. Time to go home. Not to my house, but to them.

* * *

I pulled into the driveway, killing the engine of my Harley but sitting there for a moment, gathering myself.

Light spilled from the kitchen windows, casting golden rectangles onto the gravel.

Through the glass, I could see movement -- Amelia at the stove, Aura laughing as she stacked plates on the counter, the boys bent over books spread across the kitchen table.

The scene hit me like a sucker punch to the gut.

My house hadn’t looked like this -- hadn’t felt like this -- ever before.

It was the kind of normal I’d convinced myself I didn’t want, didn’t need.

The kind of normal that now scared me more than any prospect of violence ever could.

I forced myself off the bike, my knees protesting after a long day at the garage in town.

The scent of garlic and tomatoes greeted me before I even opened the door -- Amelia’s spaghetti.

She’d figured out it was my favorite after just one time of making it.

Made it every Wednesday now, like clockwork.

Inside, the house was warm and alive in a way my solitary existence had never achieved.

When I’d adopted Aura, things had changed, but this was on another level.

It wasn’t just the two of us anymore. We’d added three people to our family.

Aura’s jacket thrown over a chair, Levi’s laptop humming on the side table, Chase’s boots lined up neatly by the door.

Little signs of lives intersecting with mine.

The radio played something soft in the background, barely audible beneath the sounds of cooking and conversation.

Amelia noticed me first, looking up from the stove with a smile that hit me square in the chest. “You’re home,” she said, like my arrival was something worth noting. Something that mattered.

I grunted, shrugging out of my cut and hanging it by the door.

The patch -- my identity for four decades -- seemed different somehow.

No longer just a symbol of the brotherhood, but of what these people expected from me.

Protection. Stability. Things I wasn’t sure I knew how to provide beyond physical safety.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Amelia continued. “Aura helped with the garlic bread.”

“Helped is generous.” Aura laughed. “I watched while giving unhelpful commentary.”

The boys glanced up from their homework. Chase’s nod was brief but not hostile -- progress, considering where we’d started. Levi actually smiled slightly, pushing his glasses up his nose with one finger.

I cleared my throat, suddenly aware they were all looking at me, waiting for something. Words. Conversation. Normal family shit that I’d never been good at.

“About Saturday,” I said, my voice rougher than I’d intended. “Thought we could go to that county fair that’s in town.”

The reaction was immediate -- Aura squealed like I’d offered her a new Harley, practically bouncing across the kitchen to throw her arms around me. “Seriously? The one with the Ferris wheel?” she asked, looking up at me with the same excited expression she’d had when I’d taught her to ride.

I placed an arm awkwardly around her shoulders. “That’s the one.”

“Dad, that’s awesome!” She turned to Amelia. “They have the best funnel cakes. And last year they had this guy who carved wooden sculptures with a chainsaw.”

Amelia’s smile widened. “It sounds wonderful.” She glanced at her sons. “What do you boys think?”

Chase and Levi exchanged one of those looks that communicated volumes between them.

Chase, always the spokesman, straightened his shoulders.

“Sounds cool,” he said, trying to sound casual though I caught the hint of excitement he couldn’t quite suppress.

“Will there be rides other than the Ferris wheel?”

“Yes, and games,” I confirmed. “Shooting gallery, ring toss. All that carnival crap.”

“I’m terrible at those games,” Levi admitted quietly.

“Me too,” said Aura, nudging him with her elbow. “But it’s still fun to try.”

I caught Amelia watching me, something soft in her expression that made me uncomfortable yet pleased. Like I’d done something impressive instead of just suggesting a day at the fair. Like this small gesture actually mattered.

Dinner passed with more conversation than usual, the plans for Saturday dominating the discussion.

Aura detailed her favorite fair attractions with her usual enthusiasm.

I hadn’t even realized she’d been so often.

Apparently, she and Sam had gone a few times.

Chase asked practical questions about the schedule.

Levi wondered about the livestock exhibits.

Throughout it all, Amelia kept glancing at me with that same warm expression, like she could see right through my gruff exterior to whatever was happening beneath it. Something I wasn’t ready to name.

After the kids had cleared the table, Aura dragged Chase and Levi to the garage to show them progress on her motorcycle restoration project.

I stepped out onto the back porch, needing a moment alone with my thoughts and a cigarette.

The night air was cool against my face, the familiar scent of tobacco calming my nerves as I lit up.

I heard the door open behind me but didn’t turn. The light footsteps told me it was Amelia before she appeared at my side, wrapping a cardigan around herself against the evening chill.

“I already thanked you on the phone,” she said, leaning against the railing next to me, “but I wanted to say it again. This means a lot to them. To all of us.”

I shrugged, uncomfortable with her gratitude. “Just a fair,” I muttered around my cigarette.

“It’s more than that and you know it.” She turned to face me, her eyes reflecting the porch light. “Chase hasn’t looked forward to anything like this in years. Not since before…” She trailed off, but I knew what she meant. Before Piston had beaten the childhood out of him.

“Kids deserve normal,” I said simply.

“They do.” She hesitated, then added, “We’ve asked so much of you already. Taking us in, protecting us. You didn’t have to do this too.”

“Wanted to,” I admitted, the closest I could come to expressing what was happening inside me.

Amelia touched my arm gently, her fingers warm through my shirtsleeve. “Thank you,” she said again, her voice soft. “For giving us a chance at normal.”

Our eyes met, and something passed between us -- something deeper than the physical attraction we’d been dancing around for weeks. Understanding, maybe. Or recognition of what we might become to each other, given time and trust.

I briefly covered her hand with mine, feeling the delicate bones beneath the skin, marveling at the strength contained in such a gentle touch. Then I pulled away, suddenly needing space from the intensity of the moment.

“Should check the perimeter,” I muttered, dropping my cigarette and crushing it under my boot. “Make sure everything’s secure.”

Her smile told me she saw through the excuse, but she didn’t call me on it. “Don’t be too long. It’s getting cold.”

I nodded and descended the porch steps, walking the property line as I did every night.

The security floodlights cast my shadow long across the grass as I moved methodically from one checkpoint to another, checking locks, testing the gate, scanning for anything out of place.

The routine grounded me, gave me time to process the feelings I’d been fighting for weeks.

Dice had been right. I was afraid -- not of Piston or the Devil’s Minions or any external threat. I was afraid of how much I was starting to care for Amelia and her boys. Afraid of the pain that would come if I fully opened myself to them and then lost them. Afraid of not being enough.

But standing there in the darkness, looking back at my house -- at the light and life within it -- I knew I was already lost. Already invested.

Already caring more than I’d intended to.

And maybe it was time to stop fighting it.

Time to stop wasting whatever chance at happiness had unexpectedly landed in my life.

I turned back toward the house, toward them. Toward home.