Page 61 of Stitch & Steel
“He was good to me when life wasn’t. Reminded me I was more than the world gave me credit for,” she’d said. “That’s what you do for her, Logan. You see Bella—all of her. Not just the fire, but the soft.”
She pressed the bracelet into my hand and gave me this look. Fierce and knowing. “You already got my blessing. Just don’t wait too damn long.”
That woman’s got a sixth sense when it comes to love. Or maybe just her granddaughter.
So I’ve been planning.
Waiting until the danger passed. Until the threats were cleared. Until Bella stopped sleeping with one eye open and started humming again in the mornings.
Fall came fast this year, turning the trees around the lake into a watercolor of fire and rust. Felt like the right time. The only time.
I pulled some strings, called in favors—hell, even Bear offered to string up fairy lights if it meant getting her to say yes. The plan’s simple:
A bonfire at the lake. Her friends—Kasey, and college friends—think they’re just coming to hang out, toast marshmallows, maybe sing a little if the mood’s right. My MC brothers will roll in like it’s just another chill night off duty.
But when the fire’s high and the stars are out, I’ll walk her down to the shoreline—the same damn spot where I first realized I was screwed. That day with the fishing rods, her smart mouth, and those freckles I couldn’t stop staring at.
I’ll drop to one knee, boots sinking into the damp shore, and give her the heirloom ring she doesn’t even know about.
I already designed her wedding band. White gold. Twisted band. Etched with mountain vines and tiny flames. Like us.
The moment I ask her to be mine, it won’t just be about love. It'll be about survival, about choosing each other in a world that hasn’t always made that easy. It'll be about forever.
And if she says yes?
The whole thing turns into an engagement party. Bourbon. Music. Laughter. Maybe a few MC boys jumpin’ in the lake, clothes and all.
Gran’ll be there too—rocking in her chair, wrapped in that blanket Bella swears she didn’t knit. She’ll be smirking like she knew it all along.
Because she did.
And damn it, so do I now.
I’ve done a lot of things in the dark.
Fought. Bled. Patched brothers up on the side of the road with nothing but grit and whiskey. Held a dying man’s hand once and promised I’d find who did it. But I’d never once dropped to my knee for anything that wasn’t God, my Club, or survival.
Until tonight.
The sun had dipped low behind the mountain ridge, bleeding lavender and peach across the horizon like the world was holding its breath. The same meadow where we’d made love that first night—candles now flickered in hurricane jars strung from trees, swaying gently in the breeze. They looked like stars that had fallen to earth just for her.
Kasey was here, fresh off a drive from Charlotte, eyes already tearing up. Bear stood off to the side with Scout, who was wearing a damn bowtie someone must’ve snuck on him. The Club cleaned up—cuts on, hair combed, no open bottles or smokes in sight. Even the Charlotte crew showed, respectful and silent. Everyone knew what this moment was.
And she hadn’t caught on yet.
Bella walked beside me, holding my hand, barefoot in a soft blue sundress that hugged her in all the ways that made my heart ache. Her eyes went wide when we stepped into the clearing, mouth parting like she was seeing something out of a storybook.
“Logan…” she whispered, blinking fast. “What is this?”
I squeezed her hand. “Our beginning.”
She turned to me slowly, brows knitting.
So I let go of her hand. Took a breath. And dropped to one knee.
Her gasp hit me harder than a punch to the chest.
“I don’t have a speech,” I said, voice rough, heart hammering harder than it ever had before a fight. “I just have the truth.”
