Page 71 of Hammer

“Never thought I’d have this,” he admitted, his voice low and rough.“Never wanted it.Too much risk.Too much to lose.”

I lifted my head to look at him, finding his eyes open and surprisingly vulnerable.“And now?”

A slight smile curved his lips.“Now I’d burn the world down to keep it.”

It wasn’t quite a declaration of love, but from Hammer, it was enough.More than enough.

Tangled in sheets damp with sweat, his arm heavy across my waist, I pressed my lips to his shoulder where an old bullet wound had left its mark.“Still think you’re too old for this?”I teased gently.

His chuckle rumbled through his chest, vibrating against my skin.“Might kill me.”He pulled me closer despite his words.“But what a way to go.”

* * *

The night air held a lingering chill as I wrapped Hammer’s oversized flannel around my shoulders and settled onto the porch steps.The compound had fallen eerily quiet in the aftermath of the battle, with only distant sounds of activity from the clubhouse breaking the silence.Most of the brothers had gathered there to debrief and celebrate their victory, leaving our little house in a pocket of calm that felt almost surreal after the chaos of the past few days.I took a deep breath, letting the tension drain from my body as I watched the security lights cast long shadows across the yard.

Hammer had fallen asleep after our lovemaking, his body finally surrendering to exhaustion and injury.I’d covered him with a blanket, pressing a kiss to his forehead before slipping out to clear my head.So much had changed in such a short time -- my feelings for Hammer, his for me, and whatever uncertain future lay ahead of us.

The screen door creaked behind me, and I turned to see Chase hesitating in the doorway.His tall frame seemed smaller somehow, his shoulders hunched forward in a way that reminded me painfully of when he was little, those moments before he’d ask for something he was afraid might be denied.

“Can’t sleep?”I asked, patting the space beside me.

He shook his head, shuffling forward to sit on the step, careful to leave a few inches between us -- not quite the sullen distance he’d maintained when we’d first arrived, but not the easy closeness we’d shared before Piston had stolen that from us too.

“Too quiet,” he muttered, rubbing his palms against his jeans.“Kept thinking I heard something.”

I understood immediately.After years of living with Piston, silence often felt more threatening than noise.Quiet meant something was coming, something was wrong.

“Hammer will sleep for hours,” I said, offering what I knew was his real concern.“The pain, not to mention the adrenaline wearing off, knocked him out.But he’s okay.Nothing life-threatening.”

Chase nodded, his fingers playing with a loose thread on the hem of his shirt.It was a childhood habit I hadn’t seen in years, this nervous fidgeting that signaled he had something important to say but didn’t know how to begin.

“He went after Piston alone,” Chase said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.“For us.”

“Yes,” I agreed simply.

“Dad --” Chase stopped, cleared his throat.“Piston never would have done that.He would have sent someone else.If he bothered at all.”

The slip didn’t escape my notice, but I didn’t comment on it.Instead, I watched my son’s profile in the dim porch light, seeing the man he was becoming despite everything he’d endured.The resemblance to Piston was there in the shape of his jaw, the color of his eyes, but nothing of that man’s cruelty had taken root in my boy.

“Hammer’s nothing like him,” I said softly.

Chase picked at the thread more vigorously, unraveling the hem of his shirt further.“I know that now.”He took a deep breath, the kind that preceded a confession.“Mom, I… I wish Hammer was my real dad.Levi feels the same way.”

The words hung in the night air between us, fragile and weightless yet somehow the heaviest thing in the world.My heart squeezed painfully in my chest, both aching and soaring at once.I wrapped my arm around Chase’s shoulders, pulling him close, half-expecting him to resist as he often did lately, too proud and too hurt to accept comfort.Since we’d moved in with Hammer, I’d noticed both boys didn’t tense up as much when I touched them.It was progress and gave me hope they were healing.

Instead, he leaned into me, reminding me of the little boy who used to crawl into my lap after Piston’s rages.Back when he still believed I could protect him.

“Oh, Chase,” I said, my voice thick with emotion.“Hammer already thinks of you and Levi as his kids.He told Piston as much, right to his face.Said you weren’t Piston’s sons anymore -- you were his.”

Chase looked up sharply.“He said that?”

“He did.”I smoothed his hair back, a gesture he usually avoided but now allowed.“He claimed you both as his family.He’s acted like your father in all the ways that matter.”

“By protecting us,” Chase murmured.

“Not just protecting,” I corrected gently.“By respecting you.By giving you space when you needed it and boundaries when you pushed too hard.By teaching you things about engines when you showed interest.By treating you like someone who matters, not just an extension of himself.”

Chase was quiet for a long moment, absorbing this.“He doesn’t even like us that much,” he said, but there was a question in his voice rather than certainty.

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