Page 81 of Property of Quake

Yet, here I am.

Here we are.

The three of us sit together in the front row of the courtroom. Melissa is squeezed between Quake and me, nervously twisting the sleeve of her sweater while Stella’s blue ribbon from last month’s pet contest peeks out of her backpack. She keeps pretending to read a book she hasn’t turned a page in for fifteen minutes.

Melissa is fooling absolutely no one.

“You know you’re allowed to be excited,” I tell her.

“I’m not excited.”

Her response comes so quickly that Quake snorts, and she glares at him. “Traitor,” she accuses.

“I’m married to your mother,” he says. “It’s literally in my contract that I’m on her side.” Quake wraps an arm around her shoulders. “But we’re both on your side, always.”

Despite herself, Melissa laughs, and the sound is a more common occurrence these days. Eight months ago, hearing her laugh felt like a miracle. Today, it’s normal.

I’ll never take that for granted, and neither will Quake.

My gaze drifts around the courtroom. Sister Beatrice sits behind us with Father James, both looking far too pleased with themselves. Several brothers from the club were informed they weren't all allowed to attend, which caused an argument I still don't fully understand. Somehow Lyric, Mellie, Zombie, and Romeo won whatever bizarre selection process they created.

Oh, and Zombie is wearing a tie. It’s the most disturbing things I’ve ever seen. He didn’t even wear one when Quake and I got married.

The club VP catches me staring and immediately grins. I look away and shudder. Some things cannot be unseen.

The courtroom door opens, and our caseworker, Janice, strides down the aisle, sitting in the front with us.

“Hey, Whitney,” she greets. “Quake, Melissa.”

“Hi,” Melissa says with a small wave and a smile.

“Here, hon,” Janice says, handing me a folder. “Boss wanted me to give you that.”

Janice and I work together, although I'm only a volunteer until I get my degree. That’ll be a few years, but I started night school a month ago and so far, I love it.

I glance at the folder and see Melissa’s name across the front. Opening it, I see pictures of her when she was a baby, pictures of her and Stella and her and her birth parents. Tears fill my eyes, and I hand the folder to Quake.

He looks too, and whips his gaze to mine. “What’s this?”

Janice leans forward. “I found them in…” She darts her eyes to Melissa before continuing. “I found them at the office.”

“We were told there was nothing,” I remind her.

“I know. That wasn’t true.”

“Jesus,” Quake mutters. “Well, thank you.”

The door separating the courtroom from the judge’s chambers opens, and we all rise. As we sit again, I find myself fighting back a smile.

I’ll never admit it out loud, but I’m seventy percent convinced the Kings of Anarchy somehow bribed fate to speed this entire process along. Adoptions take time. Rarely, if ever, do they happen this quickly. Neither do emergency placements, expedited hearings, or home studies conducted in MC clubhouses.

The home study alone should’ve been impossible.

The evaluator spent an afternoon interviewing bikers, drinking coffee with Zombie, and watching Stella extort snacks from half the clubhouse. Somehow. the report came back glowing.

Then again, the club spends an alarming amount of time helping people. They build houses, fundraisers, community projects, and enough quiet favors that I've long since stopped trying to keep track. Maybe that goodwill actually counted for something.

Or maybe Romeo knows things nobody should know.