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Our lovemaking was different this time -- more intense, more desperate.

The shadow of what could have happened hung over us, making each touch more meaningful, each kiss more urgent.

I felt myself climbing toward release, the tension building low in my belly as Hammer shifted his angle, hitting that perfect spot inside me.

“Let go,” he commanded, his voice rough with exertion and desire. “Let me see you come apart.”

His words pushed me over the edge. I shattered beneath him, waves of pleasure rolling over me as I clung to his shoulders. He followed moments later with a deep groan, his body tensing above mine before collapsing carefully to avoid crushing me.

We lay tangled together, breathing hard, sweat cooling on our skin. His weight was a welcome anchor, grounding me in the reality that he had returned, that we were still here, still together.

“I meant what I said,” I murmured against his chest once our breathing had steadied. “I’m falling in love with you.”

He was quiet for so long I thought he might have fallen asleep. Then his arms tightened around me.

“Never thought I’d have this,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. “Never wanted it. Too much risk. Too much to lose.”

I lifted my head to look at him, finding his eyes open and surprisingly vulnerable. “And now?”

A slight smile curved his lips. “Now I’d burn the world down to keep it.”

It wasn’t quite a declaration of love, but from Hammer, it was enough. More than enough.

Tangled in sheets damp with sweat, his arm heavy across my waist, I pressed my lips to his shoulder where an old bullet wound had left its mark. “Still think you’re too old for this?” I teased gently.

His chuckle rumbled through his chest, vibrating against my skin. “Might kill me.” He pulled me closer despite his words. “But what a way to go.”

* * *

The night air held a lingering chill as I wrapped Hammer’s oversized flannel around my shoulders and settled onto the porch steps.

The compound had fallen eerily quiet in the aftermath of the battle, with only distant sounds of activity from the clubhouse breaking the silence.

Most of the brothers had gathered there to debrief and celebrate their victory, leaving our little house in a pocket of calm that felt almost surreal after the chaos of the past few days.

I took a deep breath, letting the tension drain from my body as I watched the security lights cast long shadows across the yard.

Hammer had fallen asleep after our lovemaking, his body finally surrendering to exhaustion and injury.

I’d covered him with a blanket, pressing a kiss to his forehead before slipping out to clear my head.

So much had changed in such a short time -- my feelings for Hammer, his for me, and whatever uncertain future lay ahead of us.

The screen door creaked behind me, and I turned to see Chase hesitating in the doorway. His tall frame seemed smaller somehow, his shoulders hunched forward in a way that reminded me painfully of when he was little, those moments before he’d ask for something he was afraid might be denied.

“Can’t sleep?” I asked, patting the space beside me.

He shook his head, shuffling forward to sit on the step, careful to leave a few inches between us -- not quite the sullen distance he’d maintained when we’d first arrived, but not the easy closeness we’d shared before Piston had stolen that from us too.

“Too quiet,” he muttered, rubbing his palms against his jeans. “Kept thinking I heard something.”

I understood immediately. After years of living with Piston, silence often felt more threatening than noise. Quiet meant something was coming, something was wrong.

“Hammer will sleep for hours,” I said, offering what I knew was his real concern. “The pain, not to mention the adrenaline wearing off, knocked him out. But he’s okay. Nothing life-threatening.”

Chase nodded, his fingers playing with a loose thread on the hem of his shirt. It was a childhood habit I hadn’t seen in years, this nervous fidgeting that signaled he had something important to say but didn’t know how to begin.

“He went after Piston alone,” Chase said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “For us.”

“Yes,” I agreed simply.

“Dad --” Chase stopped, cleared his throat. “Piston never would have done that. He would have sent someone else. If he bothered at all.”

The slip didn’t escape my notice, but I didn’t comment on it.

Instead, I watched my son’s profile in the dim porch light, seeing the man he was becoming despite everything he’d endured.

The resemblance to Piston was there in the shape of his jaw, the color of his eyes, but nothing of that man’s cruelty had taken root in my boy.

“Hammer’s nothing like him,” I said softly.

Chase picked at the thread more vigorously, unraveling the hem of his shirt further. “I know that now.” He took a deep breath, the kind that preceded a confession. “Mom, I… I wish Hammer was my real dad. Levi feels the same way.”

The words hung in the night air between us, fragile and weightless yet somehow the heaviest thing in the world.

My heart squeezed painfully in my chest, both aching and soaring at once.

I wrapped my arm around Chase’s shoulders, pulling him close, half-expecting him to resist as he often did lately, too proud and too hurt to accept comfort.

Since we’d moved in with Hammer, I’d noticed both boys didn’t tense up as much when I touched them.

It was progress and gave me hope they were healing.

Instead, he leaned into me, reminding me of the little boy who used to crawl into my lap after Piston’s rages. Back when he still believed I could protect him.

“Oh, Chase,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Hammer already thinks of you and Levi as his kids. He told Piston as much, right to his face. Said you weren’t Piston’s sons anymore -- you were his.”

Chase looked up sharply. “He said that?”

“He did.” I smoothed his hair back, a gesture he usually avoided but now allowed. “He claimed you both as his family. He’s acted like your father in all the ways that matter.”

“By protecting us,” Chase murmured.

“Not just protecting,” I corrected gently. “By respecting you. By giving you space when you needed it and boundaries when you pushed too hard. By teaching you things about engines when you showed interest. By treating you like someone who matters, not just an extension of himself.”

Chase was quiet for a long moment, absorbing this. “He doesn’t even like us that much,” he said, but there was a question in his voice rather than certainty.

I laughed softly. “Hammer doesn’t show affection the way most people do.

But have you noticed how he checks your schoolwork over his morning coffee?

How he made sure your bedroom had a lock after he heard what Piston used to do?

How he never raises his voice, even when you’re being a complete pain in the ass? ”

The ghost of a smile touched Chase’s lips at that last part. “I have been kind of a jerk to him.”

“You’ve been protecting yourself and Levi, just like you always do,” I told him. “And Hammer understands that better than anyone.”

We sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, listening to the night sounds around us -- crickets, the distant rumble of motorcycles, the soft creaking of the house settling. So different from the tense silences that had filled our old life.

“Will we stay with him?” Chase finally asked, his voice small. “Even now that Piston…” He trailed off, unwilling to finish the thought.

I turned to face him fully, wanting him to see the truth in my eyes. “I’ve found something with Hammer I never expected to find after everything with Piston. A chance at real love. A real family. Not to mention, we’re married. This is our home now.”

“You love him?” Chase asked, surprise evident in his voice.

“I do,” I admitted, the words easier the second time I’d spoken them aloud. “And I think he loves me too, in his own gruff way.”

Chase seemed to consider this, his brow furrowed in thought. “He treats you different. Not like Piston did.”

“Very different,” I agreed. “Hammer sees me. The real me. And he sees you boys too -- not as possessions, but as people with your own thoughts and feelings.”

“That’s what a real dad is supposed to do, isn’t it?” Chase asked, and the naked hope in his voice nearly broke me.

I pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to the top of his head like I used to when he was small. “Yes,” I whispered. “That’s exactly what a real dad does.”

Chase nodded against my shoulder, seeming to find some resolution in our conversation. When he finally pulled away, his expression was lighter than I’d seen it in years, as if some invisible burden had shifted.

“I should check on Levi,” he said, rising to his feet. “He was worrying about Hammer too.”

“Tell him Hammer’s fine,” I said. “And, Chase? Thank you for telling me how you feel. It means a lot.”

He ducked his head, suddenly shy. “Yeah, well. Don’t tell Hammer yet, okay? I want to… I need to tell him myself. When I’m ready.”

I nodded, understanding completely. “It’ll be your choice. When and if you ever do.”

As I watched him disappear back into the house, I felt a sense of peace settle over me. The path ahead might not be easy -- nothing worth having ever was -- but I felt like we were moving toward something instead of just running away.