Page 118 of Victorious: Part 3

Then it’s time for the real goodbyes, the ones that matter. Ingrid hugs each of us in turn, lingering longest with the women. Haven, Rhyan, and me.

When she gets to me, she holds on tight. “Thank you,” she whispers in my ear. “For everything. For being a surrogate daughter when I needed one the most.”

“Thank you for teaching me what it means to be strong,” I whisper back. “And for being the mother I needed.”

We pull apart, both of us crying now, and I watch as she climbs into the passenger seat of the truck. South gives Louis one last kiss on the forehead before closing the back door and walking around to the driver’s side.

He gives us one last final wave, then he ducks into the truck, closing the door. I inhale sharply, clinging to Phoenix for dear life as the engine starts with a rumble that seems too loud in the quiet parking lot. Slowly, the truck pulls away from the clubhouse, taking with it two people and a baby who’ve become essential parts of our family.

I stand here watching until the taillights disappear around the corner, Phoenix’s arm warm and solid around my shoulders. Around us, the rest of the club begins to disperse, heading back inside the clubhouse, but I’m not ready to move just yet.

“They’ll be okay,” Phoenix says quietly.

“I know,” I reply, and I do know. South and Ingrid aresurvivors, fighters. They’ll take care of each other and build something beautiful in New Orleans with Ingrid’s family, but that doesn’t make watching them leave any easier.

When we head back inside, the clubhouse feels different now, quieter somehow, even though most of the brothers are still in the main room. It’s the absence that’s noticeable, the lack of Louis’ happy babbling, the missing sound of Ingrid’s laughter.

I settle onto the couch next to Phoenix, curling into his side as the conversations around us gradually shift. Ink and Nighthawk are deep in discussion about something that’s making Nighthawk blush, their body language suggesting their friendship is definitely evolving into something more. Navy and Theo are playing pool, their usual competitive banter laced with an undercurrent of flirtation that’s become impossible to ignore.

“Looks like we’re not the only ones figuring things out,” I murmur to Phoenix, nodding toward Ink and Nighthawk.

Phoenix follows my gaze and grins. “About time. Ink’s been mooning over her for weeks.”

“And Navy and Theo?”

“Even more obvious. Theo’s been finding excuses to hang around Navy every chance he gets.”

I smile, watching our found family navigate their own relationships. There’s something comforting about it, this evidence that life goes on, that people find ways to connect, love, and build something good even after everything we’ve been through.

“Phoenix?” Maverick’s voice cuts through my observations.

We both look up to find my brother approaching, his expression serious but not angry. This is the conversation I’ve been dreading since we got back from Vegas, the one where Maverick and Phoenix finally hash out everything that’s happened.

The wedding—both of them.

What happened in the prison.

The clear tension between them when it comes to me.

This chat has been coming for a long time. I just hope it doesn’t end up with someone, or both of them, coming out of it with a black eye.

Or worse!

“Mav,” Phoenix replies, straightening slightly but not pulling away from me.

“Can we talk?” Maverick asks. “Outside?”

Phoenix looks at me, and I see the question in his eyes. I give him a small nod, trying to project more confidence than I feel. “Go,” I tell him. “I’ll be right here.”

I watch them walk toward the door, my stomach churning with anxiety. I hope Maverick won’t actually hurt Phoenix. We’re past that now, but the thought of them fighting, of this finally being the thing that breaks apart what we’ve built, makes me feel sick.

“They’ll be fine,” Haven says, sliding into the seat Phoenix just vacated. “Your brother’s a lot of things, but he’s not unreasonable. And he loves you too much to do anything that would really hurt you.”

“I know,” I say, but I’m still tense, still listening for raised voices from outside.

“Besides…” Haven continues with a slight smile, “Phoenix has proven himself. Multiple times. Even Maverick can see that.”

Twenty minutes later, they return, and I search both their faces for signs of damage. But Phoenix is almost smiling, and Maverick looks…