Page 26 of Always My Fate

She smiled softly, exhaustion and love mixing in her eyes. “I love you, Kirk Langdon.”

“Damn right,” he whispered, holding her close as sleep started to pull at them both. “Always.”

Chapter Thirteen

Blackie

Blackie woke with the first light filtering through the curtains, his arm wrapped protectively around Peaches. Daniel was kicking up a storm against his palm where it rested on her belly. For a moment, everything felt right—his woman home, safe in their bed, their son strong.

Then Peaches reached for her phone on the nightstand, already tapping away at messages.

“Morning, honey,” he rumbled, voice rough with sleep. He tightened his hold gently. “Put that down. You’re supposed to be restin’.”

Peaches gave him a look that could cut glass. “I am resting, Blackie. But the club family doesn’t take a break just because I’m in bed. Tammy needs a ride to the doctor this morning, and one of the sweetbottoms is running low on formula. I can coordinate the errands from right here.”

Blackie pushed up on one elbow, scowling. “Like hell you can. Doctor said strict bed rest, Peaches. That means no runnin’ the whole damn network from your phone before the sun’s even up. Let the other old ladies handle it. You’re carryin’ our boy. That’s enough.”

She set the phone down but sat up a little straighter against the pillows, green eyes flashing with that familiar fire. “I’m not made of glass, Kirk. I’ve been organizing this kind of stuff since forever, and now you want me to lie here like some fragile doll while people who count on me need help? That’s not who I am. That’s not who we are.”

Blackie ran a hand over his face, frustration and fear twisting in his gut. He hated arguing with her, but the thought of her pushing too hard and something happening to her or Daniel made him want to chain her to the damn bed and take her phone away.

“Goddamn it, Lottie,” he growled, voice low and heated. “You think I’m sayin’ this to control you? I’m fuckin’ terrified. We just got you home from the hospital. Preeclampsia ain’t anything to play with. Roscoe and those MDMC shitheels are already circlin’. I can’t be worryin’ about you overdoin’ it on top of everything else. Let me take care of you. For once, take the offered help to carry the load.”

Peaches reached out, grabbed his hand, and placed it firmly on her belly where Daniel was moving strong. Her touch was loving, but her words were steel. “I’m not asking you to let me run around the house. I’m telling you I want to contribute the only way I can right now—from this bed. The club family needs me. Our kids need to see their mom still fighting, not hiding. You want to protect me? Then trust me to know my limits.”

Blackie stared at her, jaw clenched tight. The struggle was real—every instinct screamed to lock everything down, to keep her safe in a bubble. But looking into those fierce green eyes, he saw the woman who had survived so much all on her own. The queen who had stood by him through every bloody chapter of their life.

“Fuck,” he muttered, leaning over to press his forehead against hers. “You’re killin’ me, Peaches. I hate this. I hate not bein’ able to wrap you in bubble wrap and keep you and Daniel locked away from every goddamn threat.”

“I know,” she whispered, cupping his scarred jaw. “But I’m here. Still fighting. Let me do it my way too.”

Blackie exhaled heavily, the fight draining out of him even as the protective instinct roared. He kissed her slow and deep, then rested his hand on her belly again.

“All right,” he conceded gruffly. “You can coordinate a few things. But the second you feel off, that phone goes in the drawer. Deal?”

Peaches smiled, the victory soft in her eyes. “Deal.”

Blackie shook his head, a reluctant smirk tugging at his mouth. His woman was the strongest person he knew. Even stuck in bed, she was running half the world.

And damn if that didn’t make him love her more.

Blackie was sitting on the edge of their bed with his hand on Peaches’ rounded belly. Daniel kicked hard, pulling him fully back to now.

He looked at his woman, the same fire in her green eyes all these years later, and that old promise settled deep in his bones.

“I meant every word I’ve ever said to you. Every vow,” he said quietly, leaning down to kiss her. “Still do. You dragged me out of the dark, Lottie. Turned this lone wolf into a man with a family worth dyin’ for.”

Peaches smiled softly, threading her fingers through his. “And you gave me a life I never thought I’d have. We’re in this together, Blackie.”

He nodded, the memory fueling the man he needed to be right now. He was everything, all at once, and he had it handled. President, husband, father.

No matter what Roscoe or the MDMC ghosts threw at them.

***

Blackie sat at the small desk in the corner of the master bedroom, laptop open for the secure video call. Peaches was propped up in bed behind him, working quietly on her phone with one hand resting on her belly. He’d compromised—she could coordinate tasks and assignments from bed as long as she stayed off her feet. The agreement chafed, but seeing her focused and happy being useful helped ease the knot in his chest.

Horse’s face appeared on the screen, with the Belle ranch visible in the background.