"You good?" he asks.
"Yeah, just forgot how hot it gets here."
"Different from Dublin."
"Very different."
We collect our bags and head outside, where Phantom is waiting. He's leaning against a black pickup, arms crossed, sunglasses hiding his eyes.
When he sees me, he grins. "Well, look who finally came home."
"Hey Phantom."
He pulls me into a careful hug, mindful of my stomach. "You look good, kid. Pregnancy suits you."
"Thanks."
He turns to Rush and extends his hand. "Rush, good to finally meet you in person."
"You too, sir."
"None of that 'sir' shit, Phantom's fine. Heard good things from Pyro."
The drive to the clubhouse takes about thirty minutes. I watch the familiar landscape roll by—trees I climbed as a kid, roads I learned to ride on, the turn-off to the house where I grew up.
It's strange being back, seeing it all through different eyes. I'm not the girl who left for Dublin anymore. I'm someone else now, someone who chose a different life.
Rush is tense beside me, his hand on my knee.
"You okay?" I ask quietly.
"Yeah, just nervous."
"About what?"
"Meeting your family on their turf. Your dad's already skeptical, now I'm walking into his clubhouse."
"They're going to love you."
"You don't know that."
"I know they'll respect you if you're honest. That's all they care about."
When we pull up to the clubhouse, I see my dad's bike already parked in its usual spot. My stomach tightens with a different kind of nervousness. This is home for him, his territory, his brothers watching. The scrutiny is going to be intense.
Inside, the clubhouse feels both familiar and foreign. I know every corner, every stain on the bar, every story behind the photos on the wall, but I haven't been here in months and it feels smaller somehow. Or maybe I've just outgrown it.
My dad appears from the back and his face lights up when he sees me.
"Everly," he says, pulling me into a hug.
"Hey Dad."
He steps back and his hand goes to my stomach automatically. "Look at you."
"Twenty-two weeks."
"Jesus, you're really showing now."