Page 21 of Echo’s Secret

"But I'm still scared," she admits. "Still waiting for something to go wrong. Still don't totally believe this is real."

"It's real," I tell her. "All of it. The club. The help. Me. We're all real."

She nods. Takes a shaky breath. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay. I'll try to believe that. Try to trust this. Try to let people help instead of doing everything alone."

"Good."

We sit there for another moment, just looking at each other across the table. Then Hannah glances at her phone and her eyes go wide.

"We've been here almost an hour and a half. Theo's probably awake by now. He's going to be hungry."

"Then we should get back."

I pay the check despite her protest. Lead her back outside into the late morning sun, and she climbs onto the bike behind me without hesitation this time. Wraps her arms around my waist and leans against my back.

Trusting me to get her home.

Home.

To the clubhouse where our son is waiting.

To the family we're building.

To whatever comes next.

I pull out of Mac's parking lot and head back toward everything that matters.

Chapter 6 - Hannah

The motorcycle rumbles beneath me, eating up the miles between Mac's and the clubhouse. I've got my arms wrapped around Wesley's waist, my cheek pressed against his back, feeling his breathing through the leather of his cut.

I can't believe this is happening.

I can't believe I'm sitting on the back of a motorcycle heading toward a biker clubhouse where my son is being watched by women I met three hours ago. Can't believe I had breakfast with the father of my child and talked about the future like we might actually have one together.

Can't believe any of this is real.

But it is. The vibration of the engine is real. The warmth of Wesley's body against mine is real. The weight of the check in my pocket, forty-two thousand dollars that will save Theo's life, is real.

All of it is real.

And terrifying.

And maybe, possibly, the second chance I stopped believing in years ago.

I spent months alone. Working two jobs. Sitting in hospital waiting rooms while doctors ran tests on my baby. Lying awake at night doing math that never added up—how to pay for surgery when every dollar I made barely covered rent and food. Watching my son's lips turn slightly blue when he exerted himself, knowing his heart was struggling, knowing time was running out.

Eight months of drowning alone because I was too scared to reach out.

Too scared to trust that anyone would actually help.

Too scared to admit that if there's someone I'd drop everything for, someone I'd trust with my life and my son's life, it's Wesley.

It's always been him.