Page 3 of Always My Fate

Next was the middles’ room. With only a year between them, Tater at eight years old, and Possum at seven years old, had a love-hate relationship. Tater was sprawled across his bed like he’d fought a war with the sheets, one arm hanging off the side. Blackie straightened the blanket and tucked it around him. “Tough little man,” he murmured with a small smile.

Across the room, Possum was curled into a tight ball, thumb hovering near her mouth even though she’d mostly outgrown it. Blackie smoothed her covers and rested a hand on her back for a second, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing.

Punkin’s room was next. The four-year-old was surrounded by stuffed animals, one leg kicked out from under the blanket. Blackie gently tucked her in, brushing a wild curl from her forehead. “Sweet dreams, Punkin.”

Finally, he stepped into the nursery. Lil Bit was their youngest at not quite two years old. She was fast asleep in her big girl’s bed, tiny fist curled near her cheek, soft breaths barely stirring the air. Blackie reached down and pulled her blanket up to her chest, his big, scarred hand lingering for a moment on the small rise and fall of her belly.

“All my babies safe,” he whispered, voice rough with emotion.

He closed the door softly and made his way back to the master bedroom. Peaches was once again awake, head and shoulders propped against the pillows.

Blackie stripped off his shirt and slid into bed beside her, immediately pulling her close.

“Everything okay?” she asked softly.

“Yeah,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Horse is good. Kids are all breathing. And you’re right here where you belong.”

Peaches smiled and nestled against his chest. Blackie closed his eyes and let the peace of the quiet house settle deep in his bones.

This was all he needed in his life, right here.

Chapter Two

Peaches

Charlotte “Peaches” Langdon shifted her weight on the couch for what felt like the hundredth time that hour, one hand curled into a fist to apply pressure to the small of her back while the other rubbed slow circles over the tight curve of her belly. The baby was active today, rolling and kicking like he was training for a cage fight instead of just growing. She winced as a particularly sharp jab caught her under the ribs.

“Easy there, little man,” she murmured, voice soft but steady. “You’re gonna have plenty of chances to throw punches once you’re out here with your daddy.”

She glanced at the half-packed box on the coffee table and forced herself to sit up straighter. The care package for the Belle chapter wasn’t going to finish itself, and she refused to let this pregnancy slow her down. Not when Horse and Glenna were dealing with the new chapter’s growing pains amid the shadow of old trouble.

With a determined breath, she leaned forwards and added another bag of fresh coffee beans to the box, followed by a stack of beef jerky she’d made yesterday and a couple of boxes of the herbal tea Glenna liked. Her fingers lingered on a small stuffed horse she’d tucked in the corner—something silly for Shamu to “guard” until Glenna and Horse’s baby came.

A dull ache throbbed through her lower back again. She rubbed more firmly, trying to soothe the lingering pain. Blackie had been up late last night on that call, and even though he’d slid into bed and wrapped himself around her like a shield, she had felt the tension in him. He carried so much. Every worry about the Mother Chapter, the new Belle outpost, and the constant watch for MDMC remnants. And now her. Them.

She hated the idea of him being troubled about her on top of everything else.

“I’m tougher than I look,” she whispered to the quiet room, half to herself and half to the baby. “Your daddy needs to know we’ve got this. All of us.”

Peaches reached for the roll of packing tape, ignoring the protest in her hips as she sealed the box. She was sore, tired, and more than a little scared of what the next couple of months would bring, but she’d be damned if she let any of the challenges stop her from taking care of her family—club and otherwise.

Blackie protected them all with his fists, his roar, and a full measure of audacity. She’d protect them with her hands and her heart.

She rested both palms on her belly and smiled softly as the baby gave her another strong kick, almost like he understood.

“That’s right, baby. We’re Riders too.”

The back door banged open, and Peaches looked up.

Randi came hurrying in, carrying Lil Bit on her hip. The toddler’s face was red and tear-streaked, one small knee scraped and bleeding.

“Mom,” Randi said, a little breathless. “She fell chasing the ball in the yard. It’s not too bad, but she wants you.”

Peaches set the care package box aside. “Bring her here, baby.”

Randi carefully transferred Lil Bit into Peaches’ arms. The almost two-year-old immediately buried her face in her mother’s neck, sniffling pitifully.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Peaches cooed, rubbing gentle circles on Lil Bit’s back. “Let’s get that knee fixed up.”