HUNTER’S EPILOGUE

For nearly a year, I feel like a passenger in my own life. I don't know who I am from time to time, mostly because I no longer control the narrative.

During that time, I hide a lot at the farm and my mom's estate before the new house is finished. I'm forced to dismantle my old life and discard what no longer works. All because a loser got a taste of power and decided he deserved whatever his dick desired.

After the federal and local governments charge him with a long list of crimes, Matt Parker denies everything. He does his best to play the victim of a witch hunt. The evidence against him is airtight, though. His phones were full of images of me, musings over our future, potential baby names for the child I'd give him, and even a few sex stories he wrote starring me swooning over his impressive dick. He also did little to hide how he found or paid the mercenaries.

A man with hundreds of millions in the bank and an endless line of minions kissing his ass figured he was untouchable. Matt Parker underestimated the power of old money and an angry government. Even then, he figured he might weasel out of responsibility. Fortunately for me, he angered violent men with nothing to lose.

I'm relieved when Matt dies. The pressure of the upcoming trial wore on me. I struggled to gain weight during my pregnancy. I have therapy twice a week to deal with my guilt, fear, and anger.

Even after the assassin's bullet frees me from that stress, I'll never be fully free. The world has marked me as both a victim and a vixen. Some people simply hate me for being me—rich, attractive, protected. Even after Matt's death, I can't go back to my old life.

However, my new life is fantastic. After leaving the Super Stacked Bimbos, I still get to play music at the farm with the kids. I'm teaching various foster boys how to play the piano and guitar.

As for dealing cards, I do that a few times a month at the clubhouse with the guys from the Backcountry Kings. Above Snakes is closed during those evenings with only safe people allowed to drop by. I play pool with Tack and my friends for the first few months before my baby bump gets in the way.

Performing in public is out of the question. For the entirety of my pregnancy, I travel around Banta City in disguises. I have my "Dolly Parton" wig along with a black bob and "The Rachel" do. When I'm feeling wild during visits to the clubhouse, I wear my "Lita Ford" wig that makes me look like a rock groupie circa 1988.

The wigs are helpful for more than hiding my identity. Growing out a pixie haircut is an ugly affair, but I've decided to change my look for good.

Yet, inside at my core, I'm still Hunter Knutsen. The same people build me up. I suffer the same fears as before.

Tack and I marry in a quiet ceremony at the farm on my twenty-ninth birthday. I'm seven months pregnant and in the final part of the "glowing" phase of my pregnancy. Carys works her magic on my hair to help with its mullet stage. I wear a white maxi dress. Tack looks sexy as hell in his club vest, blue jeans, and white T-shirt. He really is his hottest when he's himself.

By then, the Knutsen-O'Malley estate is finished with remodels and fully set up with security. As soon as the yard is ready, Tack organizes a visitation schedule with Indigo regarding Sleepy and Grumpy. The dogs aren't too sure about the new location, even if they play a lot and enjoy following Tack around.

Knowing he can't keep the dogs full time, Tack starts the hunt for a dog to adopt. He regularly hits up the shelter and Sleepy's breeder.

Many nights, Tack talks about how he didn't put any thought into choosing Sleepy and how he didn't train him enough. I assume he's obsessed with this issue to avoid worrying about the baby.

I occasionally join him on trips to the shelter. All the dogs are big and many seem aggressive. My fear makes Tack even more unsure about what he wants.

During one visit, we end up in the cat area filled with kittens. Tack seems so desperate for a full-time pet. Feeling impulsive, we adopt two female littermates. Tack names them Patty and Selma. He's so excited over the two orange-and-white kittens.

"Bear's cats are cool," Tack says as he follows the curious kittens around our living room. "He bought them a shit-ton of toys and climbing crap."

My heart breaks during those little moments when Tack seems like a kid again. He missed out on a lot by having terrible parents. Once he was at the farm, he rushed to grow up and be a man like the ones he respected.

A different side of Tack comes out while we decorate the house, plan for the baby, and care for the kittens. For one thing, I doubt he ever realized how much he likes to shop.

Tack owns a fun, quirky eye for design. His bedroom at the farmhouse was barely furnished, the walls were white, and his comforter was something he picked up at a yard sale. Tack put zero effort into making his room comfortable.

For our house, he cares about everything from the wall colors to the pillows for the couch. Once he starts dreaming big, Tack can't stop. After we learn we're having a daughter, I often find him searching room designs on his phone.

"Is a girly room the right choice?" he asks.

"We can choose whatever we like when she's little. One day, Lotus will be old enough to tell us what she wants."

During a barbecue, Tack turns to Bear for advice. "I don't know anything about little girls," Tack tells his brother who is also expecting a daughter.

"Jacinda is easy," Bear replies quickly. "She's just like Hector except for her plumbing."

I catch Tack studying Jacinda and Hector whenever they're around. He's overthinking the situation. Babies are just babies for a long time.

"You don't need to be perfect," I tell him one night.

The kittens are already put away in their tricked-out cat room. Tack and I cuddle on our bed. The TV plays Adult Swim. A light rain taps at the many primary bedroom's windows.

Tack is stripped down to his boxers, seeming both vulnerable and intimidating. I rub my swollen belly and try to feel sexy when I look at his muscled body. Tack must sense I'm insecure because he kisses me with an intensity I feel down to my toes.

"I know you want to be smart and plan things out," I whisper as he nuzzles my baby bump. "But I think you ought to trust your gut, too. It was right about us."

Tack smirks for a moment before going soft. "My parents never wanted me," he says, startling me with his honesty. "They planned to be childfree, and I was an accident. I don't want to half-ass my kid's life that way."

Kissing his cheeks and forehead, I snuggle closer. "You're going to make mistakes. That's okay. Fucking up from time to time doesn't make you a bad father. Tack O'Malley's love is a wonderful thing for anyone to experience."

Though my words hit the right spot tonight, he's bound to struggle as my due date approaches. We both need to face our past to avoid mimicking our parents' bad habits.

Though I'm like Suzanne in many ways, I won't give up on Tack and me when things get difficult or unsatisfying between us. My mother chose to leave men. No one forced her hand. My family isn't jinxed.

By then, Austen is living in her new house and raising her newborn son, Folsom. I believe she'll choose to stick it out whenever Walla Walla and she have issues in the future.

My first big test with Tack is when he brings home a puppy one month before my due date.

"I was at the breeder's place," Tack says excitedly as soon as he finds me in the kitchen with the kittens bouncing around nearby. "The pug had puppies, and this one kept cracking me up."

Looking at the puppy chilling in the curve of Tack's elbow, I consider the chaos of another baby in the house. The kittens are already in everything and need to be corralled into certain rooms to avoid them getting hurt. Now, we'll have a puppy in the mix.

Tack's blue eyes lose their excited glow when I don't immediately approve of his dog. The animal makes me feel guiltier by staring at me with his big goofy eyes.

"Four babies are a lot," I mumble, feeling small under the power of their gazes. "But it also means they'll grow up together."

Tack looks down at the dog in his arms, and I feel him trying to talk himself into taking it back. I know dogs are a sensitive subject for him. He fixated on the ones who ran away when he was a kid. Then, he had to leave Sleepy behind. Now, I'm stealing his joy over this little guy he's already claimed.

"What's his name?" I ask, moving forward and taking charge. I stroke the spot just above the dog's smooshed snout. "You can name him whatever you want. Even something goofy."

Tack stares at me in the cold way he gets when he's shutting down to protect his heart. I take the dog from him and walk away. For the next few minutes, I wait for Tack to decide how to handle his feelings.

Meanwhile, the puppy bounces around my feet and rolls around before snorting like a pig. When I crack up from his antics, Tack joins me and smiles.

"He kinda looks like John Belushi," he says and kneels to pet the dog. "Is Belushi a good name?"

"Of course. Choosing a name is about finding something special to you. There's no wrong answer. Now, whenever I hear his name, I'll remember how he's a little comedian."

Tack's chilly armor warms when I praise the puppy. Getting another pet makes zero sense. When I tell Suzanne that night, she goes silent and tries to think of how to praise a clearly crazy idea. Yeah, it's nuts!

However, a painful life can run roughshod over a person's heart and turn it black. Tack's lucky to be a man capable of loving a goofy little dog with a tongue that never wants to stay in its mouth.

As my due date approaches, Tack and I create a solid schedule for our three fur babies. Fortunately, they get along.

At first, the kittens are horrified by Belushi. I don't think they understand what they're looking at as he rolls around and snorts. They take turns running at him and popping him with their paws. When he just bounces around, they quickly become pals and even sleep curled up together.

Sleepy and Grumpy are less impressed by the fur babies. Watching the tiny, rowdy creatures, the older dogs act like bored teenagers desperate to escape.

By the time I go into labor, a nanny and estate manager are set up in their quarters. Tack wasn't so sure about live-in staff, yet the mansion's size allows us plenty of privacy. If he feels cramped by the staff, he'll take Belushi to the mantuary.

Born just after dawn on a cloud-free day, Lotus Knutsen O'Malley is a tiny thing at five pounds. She has a full head of ruby red hair and big blue eyes. When my baby girl stares at me, I feel like she understands the entire world and is waiting for the moment when she can share her thoughts.

Absolutely horrified by her size, Tack assumes Lotus is sick and fears bringing her home from the hospital.

"Olívie was born twice as big," Tack states, looking at Bear after we're home. "Why was your kid so big the jaws of life were needed to free her? Hunter isn't tiny. I'm nearly as big as you."

"You did something wrong," Bear replies and sighs dramatically. "Your jizz is defective."

"Fuck off," Tack growls before realizing Bear is teasing him. "I'm serious."

While the men poke at each other, Natasha and I cuddle up and coo over our babies. Olívie does look far older than my munchkin.

"I didn't eat well when I was pregnant," I mumble, feeling insecure about Lotus's size now.

"You looked healthy to me."

"My doctor was worried for a few months in the middle."

"Was she worried at the end?"

"No."

"And the doctors at the hospital thought Lotus was healthy, right? I think everyone needs to stop worrying about sizes. I was a small baby, and I'm normal sized now."

"You're the perfect size," Bear says, wearing the look men own when imagining their woman naked.

Tack frowns at his brother, feels competitive, and smiles at me.

"You look gorgeous," he says and wears his "let's fuck" expression.

"Six weeks before we can go wild, babe," I remind him. "But I can help you out later."

"No, I'm good," Tack says. "Few men are as patient as me."

Tack flashes an arrogant grin at Bear who grumbles something under his breath. The men taunt each other a bit more before taking Hector, Jacinda, and Belushi to the yard to play.

I look at Natasha and admire how much she's overcome during the last few years. She smiles at me and slides my unruly hair from my face.

"I'm happy," she whispers.

"Me, too."

"I don't want anything to change."

"Me, either."

That's the plan, anyway. The problem is Tack and I really like to fuck. As soon as I get the okay for sex from my doctor, I'm riding my husband's dick like I've got an incurable addiction.

We occasionally use condoms. However, we're always fucking, and the pool proves too tempting. I suspect a night in the deep end is when we conceive our son.

Without a looming court case or the media attention, I enjoy my second pregnancy more. The house is our home. Our fur babies are less hyper. Tack is accustomed to leaving my side so he can ride with his club. I have hobbies along with a new charity cofounded with Natasha to help foster kids.

Lotus is an easy baby who rarely complains yet never suffers in silence. When she wants attention, my tiny daughter can unleash a roar worthy of a lioness. Her voice will echo through the mansion, seeking out someone to fix her problem. Once she gets what she needs, she returns to her quiet, watchful self.

In contrast, Attica is a wild man. We name our son in honor of Atticus and with an eye to his cousin, Folsom.

Despite being nearly twice his sister's size at birth, he doesn't roar as much as fuss. Attica is a whiny guy until the day he becomes mobile. Oh, boy, does he find his smile once he can get moving!

Attica inherits my red hair and dark blue eyes yet looks and acts like a mini-Tack. They have the same smile and laugh. Both of them love speed. As soon as Attica can run, Tack will race back and forth in the yard with our boy.

Belushi is not a dog built for running. When Sleepy and Grumpy visit, he watches the bigger dogs play rather than join them. He also chills out in the shade as Tack and Attica get rowdy in the yard.

Tack and I decide two kids are the right number for us. Maybe I'm just copying Suzanne and Austen.

My sister and I get close despite living in different states. We talk daily, just to check in and share what's going on. Her happiness fills me with confidence. The pain from our shared trauma becomes a faint memory. Neither of us has anything to prove anymore. We're just being our best selves.

Even knowing what Tack and I have created together, I rarely regret my choice to remain friends for so long. There was magic in how we finally pushed past our fears and became a couple. Those early days on the farm still hold a special place in my heart. I saw a new side of Tack. His intimidating world became my new home. I learned to think like a club wife.

Tack will always be the only man to make my heart race. He was my friend before becoming my hero. No one knows me like Tack does or loves me with the same intensity.

If a lasting relationship is about making the choice to stay, I choose to ride with Tack for the rest of my life.