"She's alive," He said hoarsely, "But I can tell you right fuckin' now she sure as shit ain’t okay."


CHAPTER TWENTY TWO:

The Demons buried Frankie on a cloudy Tuesday, wearing his cut; my engagement ring and wedding ring on his pinkie finger.  Deuce stayed by my side holding me up when I would have collapsed.  I was overwhelmed with grief and regret, swamped with guilt and at the same time, relief so great I felt dizzy from it.

I hoped in death Frankie found the peace he never could find in life.

I stayed a long time after the service disbanded.  I talked to Frankie for a while, cried for a while.

Before I left I traced his name on his tombstone, "Sweet dreams baby," I whispered.  "Always."

Before we headed home, Kami and I visited Chase's grave.  Hand in hand, we sat down in the grass and leaned back against his tombstone.  Sharing a seventy five thousand dollar bottle of whiskey, we held each other and cried.  We cried for very different reasons, but for Chase all the same.  As fucked up as both our relationships with him were, he had been loved.  He’d just been too fucked up to realize it.

Then Kami, Cox, Deuce and I went home to our kids and our club and the healing began.

Deuce was in a bad way.  Worse off than anyone else.  For a long time he wouldn’t touch me, couldn’t touch me.  He blamed himself for everything.  It was his fault Frankie hadn’t been found; it was his fault Frankie had been able to break inside the club; his fault that Frankie had forced himself on me and his fault that I’d been the one to kill him.

But it wasn’t.  None of it was.  It was Frankie’s fault, all of it.  This, I’d had a hard time accepting as well.  At first, I’d placed blame on myself, for letting my relationship with Frankie get to the point it had.

But I got there…alongside my family and my friends and my club…I got there.

Getting Deuce there was another matter altogether.

But we got through it.  Together.  It didn’t happen overnight and it wasn’t easy.

Nothing worth doing ever is.

And love is worth everything.


EPILOGUE:

Deuce scowled at his father in law. "You're older than me," He grumbled.

Preacher snorted.  "Both in our fifties.  Only difference is you got yourself a beautiful, younger woman to keep you young and all I got is a club full of stupid shitheads who think bathing is optional and farting is an art form."

They both looked to where Eva was standing, talking with Kami, a very pregnant Dorothy, Mick and his wife Adriana, Danny and… ZZ, whose fucking arm was slung over his daughter's shoulders.  His fists clenched but he kept it reeled in.  He had promised Eva he wouldn't kick the shit out of him again.  Danny was twenty one years old, Eva had said, and ZZ was head over heels for her.  She kept reminding him that ZZ had never fallen into the same patterns the rest of his boys had.  He didn’t drink excessively, he didn’t have a quick temper, he’d never disrespected a woman, and he didn’t do whores.

Still…he really fucking hated it.  Really.  Fucking really.

He gritted his teeth and looked back at his wife.

She was thirty five and fucking gorgeous.  Her body was sleek and toned, thanks to yoga four times a week, but she still had her curves so he was happy and didn't give a shit if she felt the need to twist her body into a pretzel and look damn ridiculous doing it.

Her dark hair was newly cut and hung halfway down her back in soft waves; she had bangs now, long and swept to the side, Danny’s doing.  She was wearing a pair of jeans he was sure were older than he was and looked it, and her old Led Zepplin tee that showed her star covered belly.  No bra.

God, he loved her.

His tag around her neck was gleaming in the sunlight.  Her IPod was shoved in her back pocket, her earbuds hanging halfway down her jeans.  On her feet, pink chucks.  And even though he couldn’t see it from this distance, on her left ring finger, was the ring he’d put on her finger the day he’d married her; a thin platinum band inscribed with their names.

Deuce & Foxy.

He watched her turn around and bend over to pick up Cox's and Kami's one year old son, Diesel, and saw his name, Deuce, tattooed right above her ass in large scrolling script.  It had been his birthday present last year and he’d been fucking her on her knees ever since.

"Fuck," He muttered.

Preacher glanced at him.

"Just thankin' god," He said, shaking his head.  "For that fuckin' woman."

Preacher grinned.

"Never forget the day she came bouncin' into my fucked up life, shakin' pigtails, singin' Janis, wearin’ chucks and sharin' peanuts and straight up stole any decency I had left which wasn't a whole lot but she fuckin' took it and I've been hers ever since."

Preacher's eyes glossed over.  "Good thing I went up river same time as your old man," He said, his voice breaking.  “If you hadn’t…if Frankie woulda-

He clapped Preacher on the back.  "Fuckin' yeah,” He said roughly.  “Don’t I know it.”

"Hi daddy!"  Ivy yelled, running past them.  "Hi grandpa!"

“Hiya beautiful girl,” Preacher said smiling.

"Get back here you crazy little shit!" Cage bellowed, streaking across the lawn after her.  "And give me my keys!"

Her blonde pigtails bouncing, her pink chucks kicking up dirt, Ivy laughed her evil little laugh and kept running.  Cage shot past her, circling around her. Ivy skidded to a stop, Cage faked right, Ivy whipped to her left and Cage grabbed her.  Swung her right off her feet and up through the air.

"Gotcha!" He said, tossing her up in the air and catching her.  She shrieked and giggled and screamed until he set her down.

"Ivy Olivia West!" Eva yelled.  "Give your brother his keys!"

Bending down in front of her, Cage rocked back on his heels and held out his hand.

"Here," She muttered, slapping the keys into his outstretched hand.  Cage's hand closed around hers and he pulled her forward into a bear hug.

"Love you, you crazy little shit," He growled.  “Couldn’t have asked for a better sister.  Cuz, ya know, Danny’s kinda bitchy.”

Danny flipped Cage off.

Ivy grinned.  Cage grinned.

He closed his eyes.

He stuck out his hand.

"Name's Deuce sweetheart.  My old man here is Reaper.  It was nice talkin' with ya."

She put her tiny hand in his and he squeezed.

"Eva," She whispered.  "That's my name and it was so, so great to meet you too."

He smiled.

She smiled.

The rest is fuckin’ history.

The End.