Page 182 of Rush
Rush stirs beside me and pulls me closer in his sleep. I feel the strange peace of knowing I'm not alone in this anymore.
Whatever comes next, we'll face it together.
24
RUSH
I wake up, and for a second I don't know where I am, then I feel Everly beside me, her breathing steady and even, and the disorientation fades.
We're at her flat, morning light cutting through the gap in the curtains. I'm used to waking up alone, already braced for whatever shit the day's going to throw, always on edge, always scanning for threats. But this is different, this is calm.
Everly shifts and murmurs something about needing coffee, her voice thick with sleep. I pull her closer and she settles against me without opening her eyes. My hand goes to her stomach automatically, flat still but holding our baby.
The thought doesn't spike my anxiety the way it did a week ago. It grounds me instead.
This isn't temporary. This is my life now, not something I'm passing through or running from. This is actually my fucking life. The weight of that settles differently than I expected. It’s not suffocating, just solid as it settles.
We head to the clubhouse mid-morning after Everly finishes some work at the lab. The parking lot is full when we arrive, bikes lined up in their usual spots.
Tank's in the garage working on his bike with Bozo, music playing low from a speaker. Both give me a chin lift as I walk toward the main part of the clubhouse. The second we enter, it’s chaos. The kids' toys are scattered in the corner near the pool table, and Gráinne and Chloe are talking by the bar. Both have a smile on their faces.
I've seen all of this a hundred times before, but today it hits different. I see it differently. It’s family. My family.
"Rush!" Tank calls from the garage. "Get over here. I need another set of hands."
I walk over and he grins when he sees me. "How's dad life treating you already?"
"Fuck off. The baby's not even here yet."
"Yeah, but you're already thinking about baby-proofing your brain. I can see it on your face."
Bozo laughs. "Man's got a point. You look stressed."
"I'm not stressed."
"You're always stressed," Tank says. "But it's a different kind of stress now. Like you're worried about someone other than yourself for once."
The observation is more accurate than I want to admit. We work on Tank's carburetor for a while, the conversation easy and familiar. Nobody's treating me like I'm about to break, nobody's walking on eggshells waiting for me to fuck up.
They're just... here, treating me like family who's stepping into something new.
Pyro appears after a while and watches us work for a minute.
"Rush, got a second?" he asks.
"Yeah."
We walk outside to the smoking area even though neither of us lights up.
"You holding up?" Pyro asks.
"Yeah, better than I thought I would."
"Good, because I thought you may have bolted when you found out."
"I thought about it," I admit.
"But you didn't," he says, no judgment in his words.
