But he's not wrong. I do feel something shifting in my chest. Not anxiety or fear, it’s gratitude for these people who chose me when I didn't choose myself. For Everly, who saw past the walls I built. For this place that stopped being a hiding spot and became a home.
After dinner, people disperse slowly. Some head out, some drift to the bar, some settle in for the night. Everly and I end up back outside, this time on the bench near the bikes. The night is cool and quiet. Dublin's city lights are glowing in the distance.
"You ever think about leaving?" she asks.
"Dublin?"
"Yeah."
"Not anymore."
"Why not?"
"Because everything I want is here."
She leans her head on my shoulder. "Everything?"
"You, the baby, the club. Yeah, everything."
"What about New York?"
"What about it?"
"Don't you miss it?"
I think about that, really think about it.
"Sometimes I miss Ruby. Miss seeing her grow up. But New York itself? No. That place has too many ghosts."
"You could go back."
"I could, but I won't. My life is here now."
She's quiet for a second. "I'm glad."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, because I can't imagine doing this anywhere else."
"Me either."
We sit there watching the night settle, and I think about how far I've come, from a scared kid in juvie convinced he'd never amount to anything to a man sitting outside a clubhouse with the woman he loves, planning for a future he actually wants.
The path between those two versions of me is messy and violent and full of mistakes.
But it led here, to belonging, to home.
For the first time in my life, I don't feel like I found a place to hide. I found a place to stay, and I'm choosing it. Every single day.
25
EVERLY
TWO MONTHS LATER
South Carolina
The heat hits me the second we step off the plane—thick, humid South Carolina air that I grew up with but haven't felt in months. Rush has his hand on my lower back, guiding me through the small airport. I'm twenty-two weeks now, showing enough that strangers notice, and he's been protective in a way that would irritate me if it wasn't so genuine.