TACK

Despite Suzanne's hug and encouraging words, I'm still worried she'll find a reason to shut down my relationship with her daughter. Not right away, of course. She'll wait until Hunter feels comfortable in her skin again. Then, Suzanne will gently point out all our differences. Over time, Hunter will realize her heart can't belong to a member of the Backcountry Kings Motorcycle Club.

Life shifts very quickly, distracting me from my worries about Suzanne. A week after Matt Parker is arrested, Hunter owns the gothic mansion. We visit the newest Knutsen estate after the paperwork has been filed with the city. Hunter promises if the house is too weird or wrong in some way, she'll get it fixed.

"Think location," she reminds me while Knutsen security drives us to the house. Fiddling with the curly blonde wig on her head, she mumbles, "Instead of a stacked Molly Ringwald, I look like Dolly Parton after a breast reduction surgery."

"I think you look hot," I reply, chuckling at how she covers her tits. "But I like your red hair best."

"What a perfectly worded response," Hunter teases as she leans over to nuzzle my shoulder.

As we approach the property, I spot the house's spiral tower and pitched rooftops. The estate is surrounded by a high brick wall and thick evergreen trees, offering privacy and security. Through the front gates, we roll down a tree lined road to the circular driveway. The black siding and slate stone exterior make the place appear eerie and unwelcoming.

I'm immediately intimidated by the size and style. This is not a home for a simple man, let alone a biker.

I pray Hunter will exit the SUV, see the house up close, and decide to tear it down and start fresh.

"Don't judge my house," she says, unable to look away from the monstrosity. "It's glorious."

My heart breaks at the thought of living in this weird place, yet I don't say a word. Hunter has always gravitated toward strange shit.

Sliding her hand into mine, Hunter guides me onto the wide wraparound porch. The front doors are black with decorative window inserts. Hunter runs her fingers along the glass, seeming charmed by the odd details.

The two-story foyer faces double staircases. Everything is dark, expensive, and off-putting. We explore room after room within the house. There's a library, a sitting room, and an indoor atrium near the kitchen.

"This house is weird," I finally blurt out. "It's too big and creepy."

"That's why I like it," Hunter says and turns to face me. "I'm not tearing it down and starting over. Not until we've tried living here."

Feeling a little panicked about staying in this place, I become overly honest. "How will that work, though? We move in, don't like it, and then move out?"

"No, dingus," she says, laughing at my crankiness as she turns away from me and nearly dry-humps the massive kitchen island. "We live here one night a week. Soon, we'll know what we like and what needs changing."

"Will that one night be subtracted from time on the farm or from staying at your mom's estate?"

Hunter levels her joyful gaze at me and cocks an eyebrow. "I'll let you decide that."

Narrowing my eyes, I know she's testing me. "This house is weird."

"I'm weird."

"No, you're cool."

"This house is cool. It's different and special. No one in all of Banta City has a house like this one."

"Because it's weird."

Hunter laughs. "I know you'll fall in love with this place. Let's go see your garage and mantuary."

I can't picture sleeping in this giant horror movie house. How will a child grow up here? Our kids are destined to be weirdos.

The back patio has clearly been renovated and feels detached from the rest of the house. I glance to my right to see the indoor pool with a slick glass enclosure. That could be fun. I always wanted a pool when I was a kid. My parents even started the process before giving up after the hole had been dug. I ended up using the unfinished pool as my hangout spot.

The farm has an indoor pool. Elvis used to take us boys to do laps when we were especially rowdy. I'd be so calm after I swam for an hour. Now, my kids could have a pool of their own.

As Hunter and I leisurely walk across the backyard to the massive detached garage, I look over the unloved property. The former owners were so busy fixing what they didn't like inside, they neglected the landscape. My temper rises when I consider the disrespect shown to this property.

That's the moment when I'm hit by how I don't hate the mansion as much as I think. I've already become protective of it.

I love how excited Hunter is here. The location is perfect. This estate will offer the privacy, security, and space to allow Hunter to hide out for a long while.

I walk inside the massive garage complete with a huge room perfect for a pool table, wet bar, and space for my friends.

Rather than hating the estate, I know I'm home.

Hunter cuddles up to me as we imagine this empty place filled with our stuff. All those little pointless rooms inside will be quiet spots for Hunter's hobbies. The yard is perfect for kids and a dog.

Standing on the back porch, I point out, "There's space to build one of those casitas like Bear has on his property for security."

"I'm willing to change colors and lighten up all the dark elements," Hunter says and takes my hand. "But I don't want to ruin the bones of the house. I feel a kinship with this place. Someone tried to tear it apart and make it something else. The house feels wrong and a little broken now. There's no fixing some of the changes made, but the house retains its heart."

Hunter tugs off her wig and cuddles closer. "Maybe I'm being dramatic, but I feel like I've lost a lot of myself over the last two weeks. But like this house, my bones are still solid. I still have what I need to survive. I can be different but still me."

After Hunter shares her feelings, I feel even more territorial of the house. The place begins to feel like mine to protect. Of course, I'm still creeped out the first time we sleep over in the now furnished primary bedroom.

By then, Hunter has security with her at all times. The armed men get set up downstairs in a small bedroom turned surveillance room.

Our second night at the house is spent celebrating Hunter's positive pregnancy test. We party in the pool after making sure security has the cameras off during our naked fun.

"If it's a girl, I want to name her Lotus after my mom," Hunter says as I hold her in my arms on the deep end.

"What the hell is a lotus?"

Hunter laughs. "It's a flower. Suzanne's name means lily and lotus. Of course, I want the more original of the two names."

"Lotus," I say, sounding it out. "Lotus O'Malley."

"Lotus Knutsen O'Malley. I took my mom's name when I was eighteen, and I want to give it to my kids."

When Hunter's tone goes a little hard, I know she's thinking about how her father called yesterday. Weeks after the attack, the asshole finally got off his ass and showed concern. Hunter put him on speaker while he babbled about being in a remote location without access to social media or the news.

Eventually, Hunter contradicted his "off the grid" bullshit by explaining, "Suzanne said you were in Seattle."

"Why is she spying on me?"

"I thought you might be in danger and asked her to locate you," Hunter lied, sounding sad. "She wanted to make sure no one had gone after you to get to me. That's when she found out you were in Seattle with your new girlfriend."

Hunter then hung up and blocked his number. "I don't want to discuss what just happened. I'm going no contact with him. That's the end of it."

I had no intention of pushing the subject. After all, I don't give a shit about her dad. He isn't why Hunter became the strong, dynamic woman I love. That credit goes to Suzanne.

Hunter's mom doesn't turn against me. Over time, I come to accept how Suzanne might have never been an issue. I don't know if I was reading things correctly with her. She likes Walla Walla, but what kind of rich bitch like Suzanne wants both of her daughters hooked up with bikers?

No matter the logic, Suzanne treats me warmly whenever we're at the estate. I also appreciate how she takes charge of problems so Hunter can heal up.

Within Suzanne's first week back in Banta City, her people organize funerals for those who died during the attack. Their families are financially compensated with funds for spouses and scholarships for kids. Hunter is moved out of the condo and a lease is signed by the Super Stacked Bimbos guitarist. They also schedule a drop-off system to ensure those single moms at the coffee shop still get their weekly tips despite Hunter quitting her job.

Matt Parker's PR machine creates chaos over the next months. I try to ignore everything. Though Hunter claims she doesn't check what people are saying, she'll suddenly seem ashamed.

"I got people killed," she whimpers to me more than once. "I made bad decisions."

When she falls apart, I just hold her and promise she did the best she could. Deep down inside, she knows the team of mercenaries were planning to make a move on her at the estate. Her people wouldn't have been any safer there.

"We should have torn down all those trees and flown in a chopper," she says on one emotional night.

"They might have attacked before we could get that done."

"The people on the street might have lived."

"And different people might have died at the estate," I reply, remaining calm when she can't be. "The only one to blame is Matt Parker. Without him, those mercenaries wouldn't have had a reason to be on the street that day. They wouldn't have attacked you in the garage. The others wouldn't have been hiding in the woods."

Nearly six months after Matt Parker's arrest, Indigo and Golden locate a spot in the woods where the mercenaries were holed up. The assholes left behind trash and other signs of their presence.

The FBI identifies fingerprints belonging to two former Army Rangers suspected of overseas assassinations. Their names were among those found in Matt Parker's phone. Proof of their presence at the farm acts as another nail in the case against him.

A week after the men's military photos appear on the news, Matt Parker takes a sniper shot to the face on his way to a court hearing. The media gets the entire thing on video, and his death dominates the news for two weeks.

In Banta City, people show obvious relief at how the trial madness will fizzle out now. We have a party at the farm catered by Suzanne. Walla Walla and Austen fly into town to celebrate.

The pregnant sisters talk about baby names and nurseries. By then, I've gotten to know Walla Walla. He's an easygoing guy, goofy even. He loves razzing Golden who takes the bait every fucking time. I stand back and enjoy how happy my people are now.

Change has always felt like a punishment to me, but I'm learning to push myself more. Hiding from discomfort kept me in a waiting pattern with Hunter for far too long. I held my tongue with Indigo despite knowing he was struggling.

I can't change who I am down deep. Shit went wrong for me when I was a kid, and I got used to taking shortcuts to feel happy. That's just how I'm wired.

However, I'm learning new habits. When I feel myself getting stuck, Hunter is right there to tug me forward. She refuses to let me hide, and I know she believes in me more than I do myself. Her trust is what keeps me strong, whether I'm at a glitzy party or learning how to change diapers.

Our future isn't like I expected. I always dreamed small. I wanted Hunter, and nothing else mattered.

Now, I have her, and everything matters. Our world got big and messy. After surviving death and chaos to get this second chance, I never want to wait again.