No shit, jackass. “Yes, sir. That’s what I want.”

He actually smiles. For a second. Then he turns his stare on Heidi. “Mrs. O’Callaghan.”

“Yes.” Heidi’s voice is clear and steady even though I notice her bottom lip tremble.

“This adoption means your husband is now your daughter’s legal parent. Even if you divorce, he will have the right to visitation and custody. If you remarry, that will not change his relationship to your daughter. Do you understand?”

“I do. Yes.”

He shuffles through the papers again. “The biological father is deceased?”

“Yes, sir,” Heidi answers.

“The grandparents?”

“Have never been involved in her life, your honor,” Charlotte says.

“Hmm.” The judge’s face softens. “Well, then this won’t be an issue but so you understand, she won’t be entitled to any inheritance from the biological grandparents.”

“I understand,” Heidi says.

“Young lady?” The judge says, clearly meaning Alexa.

I nudge her and point to the judge. He smiles and waves at her but from high up on the bench he must seem intimidating. She ducks her head against my chest.

“Alexa?”

She peeks up at him again.

“Who is that?” He nods at me.

She frowns. Turns to look at me. Looks at the judge. “My Daddy,” she answers in the same are you stupid tone of voice Marcel uses all the time.

I swallow down my laughter.

The judge chuckles and scribbles his signature on a few pieces of paper.

“All right. You’re officially the legal parent of this little girl, Mr. O’Callaghan. Congratulations.”

I swallow hard before answering. “Thank you.”

He hands a folder to Charlotte and gives her some instructions for filing the papers for the new birth certificate and name change.

Heidi throws her arms around me and Alexa. The three of us huddle like that together for a few minutes. Until Alexa’s had enough and squirms her way off my lap.

“Pop-pop!”

“She has no idea,” Heidi murmurs.

“She will always know she’s loved and wanted,” I answer. I lean down and kiss Heidi’s cheek. “That’s the only thing that matters.”

Fifty-Two

Epilogue

Alexa

“Dad, can I come down to the garage with you?”

“Sure. Wanna ask Bit-Bit?”

“No.”

He chuckles and motions for me to follow him. We walk the trail to the clubhouse garages. One of them, my father’s almost completely taken over with his bikes and our family’s cars. He often helps Uncle Dex maintain all the vehicles for the club, but what’s in this smaller garage belongs to the O’Callaghans alone.

Well, one or two might belong to Uncle Teller.

It’s the big orange bike in the corner that fascinates me the most. Dad knows it, too. He watches me closely. My eyes always go to it first, and my dad always entertains my questions.

Mom, not so much. She hardly spends any time in here.

I haven’t learned a whole lot of practical skills over the years. I really just enjoy hanging out, watching my dad work, listening to his road stories. Listening to stories of what he and mom were like as kids. This garage is my happy place.

Today, I gather up the courage to ask something that’s been on my mind for a while now. “Dad, if he liked to ride, how come he never joined the club?”

I don’t have to specify which he; Dad knows I’m referring to my bio-father. I don’t think of him as my “real” father. The man standing in front of me is as real as real gets. But I know mom was married to my first father, her high school sweetheart, for a brief time before he died, and naturally, I’m curious about him.

He sighs and glances at his boots. “Club life isn’t for everyone.”

I can’t understand that. “I never, ever want to leave,” I blurt out. Then add, “Even if girls can’t be members.”

Dad chuckles at the scowl on my face. “No one ever said that. No girls have asked yet.”

“Bullshit. That’s what all of you say.”

He grins even wider. “Watch your mouth. Who says that?”

“You. Uncle Teller, Uncle Rock, Uncle Wrath, Uncle Z…you think I missed that’s the standard answer you guys give Grace and me all the time?”

He laughs harder.

“Now, I’m asking. I want to be a prospect when I turn eighteen.”

He stops laughing. “You better talk to your mom about that. And you need to learn to ride first.”

“Well, it would be easier to learn if someone would teach me.”

“Not yet.”

I huff out an annoyed burst of air, blowing my bangs out of my face. “You already knew how to ride at my age.”

Dad’s smile is every safe, happy, and warm memory I can ever remember.

“Why don’t we worry about mastering some driving skills first. You got your whole life in front of you to learn to ride.”

My gaze strays to the bike again. “I wish I’d known him.”

“Axel?”

“Yeah. Were you friends?”

He’s careful with his answer. Hesitant almost. “Not close. I knew him when he prospected for us. He was a good kid. A hard worker.” He points to the orange bike. “Very talented at fixing shit.”

I already know all of those things, because Dad’s said them before. What I don’t know is, “Were you not friends because of mom?”

I’m clearly making him uncomfortable, but I can’t stop myself from asking.

“Probably,” he finally answers.

“I wish I at least had one memory of him.”

His face softens. “Your mom has pictures.”

“I know. It’s not the same.”

The hot sting of sadness tickles my throat. I don’t know why, but I feel like crying. Maybe it’s the pained look on my dad’s face. All too late, it occurs to me that this conversation is probably awkward for him.

Overcome with shame, I throw myself against him, hugging him tight. “I love you, Daddy.”

“Love you, too, Alexa.” His voice is rough, but his arms around me are tight and secure. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing…I just…just realized how lucky I am. That’s all.”

“I’m the lucky one,” he rasps, holding me tighter, swaying us back and forth.

Later that night, I’m sitting on the stairs listening to my parents. Brittany and I have done this for years and rarely get caught.

“Why were you showing her Axel’s bike again?” My mom asks.

“She asked.”

“I’m sorry.”

My dad’s voice is low and gentle. “Why? It’s okay, Heidi. She’s getting older. She’s curious.”

“What did she want to know?”

He heaves out a breath, and I wish I could see them, but to do that, I’d risk exposing my hiding spot.

“Why he wasn’t a part of the club. If we were friends. Normal stuff.”

“What did you tell her?”

“The truth.”

Mom snorts. “Which truth?”

Dad’s voice is a little sharper this time. “The only one there is. The club’s not for everyone. That I knew Axel, but we weren’t close.”

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