Page 24 of Echo’s Secret

"And now?"

I think about the clubhouse. About the women who immediately welcomed me. About Phoenix saying "you're family now" like it was already decided. About Theo sleeping peacefully while strangers-who-aren't-strangers-anymore watched over him.

"Now it feels different," I admit. "Like maybe I could belong here. If I let myself."

Wesley's hand tightens on mine. "You can. You do."

I want to believe him. Want to believe that this broken, scared woman who showed up at dawn with a sick baby and empty pockets could actually find home in a place like this.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and see a text from a number I don't recognize:

*This is Nora. Theo woke up about 20 minutes ago. I fed him (you left bottles in your bag, hope that's okay). Grace wants to go to the park, and I was thinking of taking Theo with us so you can have some time to settle in. Ivy's coming too. He's happy and smiling. We'll take good care of him. Let me know if that's okay?*

I show Wesley the text. He reads it and looks at me. "Your call. But they'll take good care of him. Nora's been raising Grace for five years. Ivy helped Phoenix through some dark shit. They know what they're doing."

"What if something happens?"

"Then they'll call. And we'll be there in ten minutes. But nothing's going to happen. It's just the park."

Just the park. Normal things that normal families do. Taking babies to the park, and letting other people help.

I text back with shaking fingers: *That's okay. Thank you. Please call if he gets fussy or needs anything.*

The reply comes immediately: *Will do! We'll send pictures. Take your time.*

Relief floods through me, mixed with anxiety. He's okay. He's safe. He's being cared for by people who actually care. And I have time. Time to breathe. Time to settle in. Time to figure out what I'm doing here.

"I said yes.” I tell Wesley.

"Good. That gives us time to set up your room properly. Make it feel like yours instead of just another guest room."

"Our room," I correct without thinking. Then freeze. "I mean, the room. Just the room. Not—"

Wesley's lips quirk slightly. Almost a smile. "I know what you meant."

My face is burning. "I should stop talking."

"Come on." He tugs my hand. "Let's head back."

We walk back to the motorcycle together. This time when I climb on behind him, I don't hesitate. Just wrap my arms around his waist and hold on tight.

Trust him to get me where I need to go.

Trust that maybe, possibly, this time someone will stay.

The engine roars to life and we head down the hill, back toward the clubhouse. Back toward whatever comes next.

The ride takes fifteen minutes. I spend every second of it pressed against Wesley's back, breathing in the smell of leather, motor oil and coffee from breakfast. Memorizing the way his body feels against mine. The way my arms fit perfectly around his waist.

The way this feels like coming home to something I've never had.

The gates of the Iron Phoenix clubhouse appear ahead. Wesley slows, entering the code that makes them swing open. We pull into the lot, and I see all the motorcycles lined up in their neat rows.

Home.

At least for today.

Wesley parks and I climb off. My legs are steadier this time. Getting used to the bike. Getting used to all of this.