Page 124 of Single Mom's Bikers

“Head’s crowning.” Doc works quickly. “One more big push.”

The second twin arrives with less drama than his brother, his cry softer but just as healthy.

“Another perfect boy.” Doc grins. “Good job, mama.”

The nurses clean and check both babies while I deliver the afterbirth.

“Want to meet your sons?” The nurse brings them wrapped in blue blankets.

They place one baby in my arms while Rick holds the other. Perfect tiny faces, still red and wrinkled. One has Chase’s nose. The other has Zane’s chin.

“They’re beautiful.” Tears fall freely now. “Our boys.”

We pass them around—each brother getting time with each baby. Their huge hands cradle such small bodies with infinite care.

“Got names picked out?” Doc asks as he finishes up.

I look at my men—these brothers who’ve given me everything. “Tank for the first one. After the man who built this family.”

Rick’s eyes fill at that. “And the second?”

“Mason.” The name feels right. “It means strength.”

“Tank and Mason Cross.” Zane tests the names. “Perfect.”

A soft knock interrupts. Rose peeks in. “Some big sisters are getting impatient out here.”

The girls enter carefully, eyes huge at their tiny brothers. Violet immediately has questions about why they’re so red. Daisy just stares in wonder.

“Can I hold one?” she asks softly.

Rick helps her settle in a chair and shows her how to support Tank’s head. Violet then gets her turn with Mason, supervised closely by Chase.

Finally, the twins start fussing—they’re probably hungry. As I prepare to nurse them, I study each perfect feature. No trace of fear marred their arrival now, and no shadows darken their future.

Just love.

47

RICK

One Year Later

“Tank,no throwing food at your brother.” I catch my son’s hand before the mashed potato becomes a projectile. At twelve months old, the twins have mastered the art of chaos.

Mason giggles from his high chair, already covered in his own dinner. They’re opposites in everything—Tank is loud and demanding, Mason quieter but twice as mischievous.

Sunday dinner at our expanded table flows with its usual controlled chaos. Between bites, Violet explains her latest motorcycle theory to Zane, complete with sound effects.

Daisy sits beside Chase, their heads bent over her sketchbook. She’s growing into a real artist, her talent blooming under his guidance. At seven, she’s already designing flash art that clients actually request.

“The security company’s first big contract came through.” Evie passes me more potatoes, somehow managing to feed herselfwhile keeping Tank from redecorating the kitchen. “That resort chain wants full coverage.”

Our legitimate business empire grows steadily. The gallery’s reputation draws clients from across the country. The new security firm provides perfect cover for MC operations while turning a real profit.

“Good timing.” I help Mason with his sippy cup. “We’ll need the extra space the expansion gives us.”

The construction next door is almost complete—double the gallery size, proper office space for the security company, and a larger area for Chase’s growing apprentice program.

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