“He didn’t know it was me until the barbecue,” I said, my voice shaking. “When he saw me with Angel. That’s when he realized. That’s when everything fell apart.”
I told her everything then. The words spilled out in a rush. The two weeks Chapman had spent watching me from afar, the night at the diner when he’d finally approached me, the stolen weeks of meetings where we talked and walked and built something real between us. I told her about the Satan’s Angels attack at Joey’s Burger Shack, the motel room where we’d made love all night, Zeke discovering us at dawn.
I told her about Chapman’s arrest, the judgment, and Reaper’s decision.
And then I told her about last night. “He lied to Reaper,” I said, my voice breaking on the words. “He told Reaper we were already married to avoid the Golden Line-Up. And now Reaper’s ordered him to actually marry me to legitimize the lie before Balthazar and Zeke find out the truth.”
Faith’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t interrupt.
“Chapman came to my room last night to tell me,” I continued, tears streaming down my face now. “He confessed everything. The lie. Reaper’s ultimatum. And then he told me that he loves me. That he wants to marry me. Not because Reaper ordered it, but because he meant the words when he said them. Because he wants a life with me and Aurora.”
“And what did you say?” Faith asked gently.
“I said no.” The words came out as a sob. “I told him I won’t marry him because Reaper ordered it. That I wouldn’t be coerced, even by love. That I spent my entire life trying not to be like Mom, and I won’t let anyone, not the club, not our family, or otherwise, take away my choice.”
Faith was quiet for a long moment, her gaze steady on mine. Then she moved to the small bench near the jasmine plants and patted the space beside her. “Come here.”
I crossed the greenhouse on shaking legs and sat down beside her. She wrapped her arm around my shoulders, pulling me close, and I buried my face in her neck and cried.
“I love him,” I whispered against her skin. “God, Faith, I love him so much it terrifies me. But I can’t. I can’t marry him like this. I can’t spend the rest of my life wondering if he only said what he said to save himself. If he only loves me because I was convenient when he was drowning in grief. If I’m just—just a replacement for Julie.”
“You’re not a replacement,” Faith said firmly. “You know that, don’t you?”
“Do I?” I pulled back to look at her, wiping at my tears with the back of my hand. “He thought I was her that night, Faith. He made love to me believing I was someone else. How do I know he’s not still seeing her when he looks at me?”
“Because he’s spent weeks getting to knowyou,” Faith said, her voice gentle but insistent. “He’s told you about his life,his past, his daughter. He’s been vulnerable with you in ways executioners aren’t supposed to be. That’s not a man looking for a replacement, Hope. That’s a man trying to build something real.”
“But what if it’s not real?” The question tore out of me, desperate and raw. “What if he’s just saying what he needs to say to survive? What if Reaper’s ultimatum is the only reason he wants to marry me?”
Faith was quiet for a moment, her hand rubbing slow circles on my back. Then she said, “What if it is real, and you walk away because you’re too afraid to find out?”
I stared at her, my breath catching in my throat.
“Life is short, Hope,” Faith continued, her voice soft but steady. “Nothing is guaranteed. Tomorrow isn’t promised. And if you walk away from Chapman now, if you let fear make this decision for you, you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been. You’ll never know the depth of his love because you’ll have already decided not to find out.”
“But I can’t just.” I shook my head, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks. “I can’t let Reaper control me. I can’t let the club dictate my life. I spent my entire childhood watching Mom give away her agency one small choice at a time, and I swore I would never be like her. I swore I would never let a man or a club tell me who to be or what to do.”
“And you haven’t,” Faith said firmly. “You’re not Mom, Hope. You’ve never been Mom. You’ve built a life for yourself: a business, a home, a family that loves you. You’ve made your own choices every step of the way. And this? This is just another choice.”
“But it doesn’t feel like a choice,” I whispered. “It feels like a trap. Marry him or watch him die. How is that a choice?”
Faith turned to face me fully, her hands gripping my shoulders. “The trap isn’t the marriage, Hope. The trap isletting fear decide for you. Your fear isn’t in refusing to marry Chapman. Your fear is in deciding, truly deciding what you want for your future and choosing it deliberately.”
I stared at her, my heart pounding in my chest.
“You’re so focused on not being controlled that you’re letting that fear control you,” Faith continued, her voice gentle but insistent. “You’re so afraid of becoming Mom that you’re refusing to see what’s right in front of you. Chapman loves you. You love him. And yes, the circumstances are complicated and messy, and wrapped up in club politics. But when has anything in our lives ever been simple?”
“I just—” My voice broke. “I don’t want to make a mistake. I don’t want to marry him and spend the rest of my life wondering if he only said yes because he had to.”
“Then ask yourself this,” Faith said, her eyes locked on mine. “If Reaper hadn’t given that ultimatum, if there was no threat, no coercion, no club politics, would you want to marry Chapman?”
The question hung in the air between us, heavy and unavoidable.
I thought about Chapman’s hands on my skin, his voice in the darkness, the way he had looked at me in the diner when he told me about Julie. I thought about the stolen weeks of conversations, the way he’d opened up to me about his grief and his daughter and his fear of not being enough. I thought about the way he had fought for me at the Diamondback compound, the way he stood in front of Reaper and claimed me as his wife, even knowing it could cost him everything. I thought about the way he climbed those stairs last night, broken and bleeding, just to tell me the truth.
“Yes,” I whispered, the word barely audible. “Yes, I would want to marry him.”
Faith’s expression softened, and she pulled me close again. “Then that’s your answer, Hope. That’s your choice. Not Reaper’s. Not the club’s. Yours.”
