Page 145 of Chasing Lyric
“I hope you’re talking about me.” Chase walks in from behind me and wraps his arms around my bigger-than-normal waist. His hands smooth up and down my bump as he rests his head on my shoulder. “I was explaining to Rory the appeal in Dax… she doesn’t get it.”
Chase smirks. “You sure about that?” he whispers in my ear.
I turn to her, staring at Dax, gnawing on her bottom lip longingly.
Maybe that’s why she’s not interested in Soren?
I choose to ignorethatsituation and deal with my own. I turn in Chase’s grip and face him, my small bump coming between us as he holds me to him. “Most of the people here are douchebags, Chase.”
He dips his head closer to me. “I know, babe, but Dad wanted to have people from the company here for tonight’s dinner.”
I groan in mock disgust. “I don’t even know them. And how are they going to react when my family starts getting…lively?”
He rubs his hands on either side of my waist. “Well, that’s when the night really starts getting fun, now, doesn’t it, Starlight?” He leans in, pressing his lips to my temple, then runs his hand across my tummy one more time. I’m only four and a half months along, and the baby’s about the length of a cucumber, but I have seen all different sizes of cucumbers. There are some of those monstrous long ones, and then some tiny miniature ones, so when they told me, I was really none the wiser.
Damn them and their fruit and vegetable analogies.
“How’s my Moonbeam?” Chase asks, bending down, his face in line with my stomach.
I run my hands through his hair. “She’s fine. But I think she’s going to be a placekicker for the LA Rams.”
“Fuck yeah, she is!” He kisses my loose-fitting kaftan top. “She can be anything she wants to be.” He slides up against me. “Just like her mom.”
“Okay, everyone, time to head outside. The food’s almost ready,” Chase’s mom, Sophia, calls, ushering people out the back of the house. I turn around, looking at the untouched platters of hors d’oeuvres Rory and I have created, then slump and groan.
Chase wraps his arm around my waist and starts walking with me to the back door as I see Rory stuffing her face full of the pint-sized croutons with our smoked salmon salad construction on top. I guess if no one else is eating our creations, Rory may as well.
Chase threads our fingers together as he leads me outside into the garden, the one space in this whole world that feels entirely mine. The air is warm with that early dusk glow, everything soft at the edges, gold brushing the tops of the hedges as the sun begins its slow descent.
This place is more than a backyard. It’s my sanctuary.
When I moved in, Chase handed it over without hesitation, told me to make it whatever I needed it to be. So I did. I poured myself into it, every corner, every bloom, every color. And now, stepping onto the stone path that curves around the pool house, my chest swells with something quiet and full.
Flowers bloom in deliberate chaos along the edges, their colors a living tapestry that winds through the garden. Chinese carnation bushes reach up with unapologetic vibrancy, dotted among clusters of filler blooms I’d picked for their softness and scent—lavender and alyssum—each tucked into the spaces between the larger plants. The decking is edged in wild beauty, petals catching the breeze and tumbling gently toward the pool.
And of course, Doughnut is here, mouth full of my poor roses, chewing with zero remorse as his short little tail twitches behind him. I sigh, but it’s fond, not frustrated. That goat’s got more personality than most people I know.
Rip stands near the edge of the deck, his arms folded, his expression unreadable in the fading light. Autumn, his Old Lady, is tucked beside him, radiant in her quiet strength, a beer dangling loosely in her hand as she talks with another one of their Defiance brothers. The LA Defiance MC has a presence that can’t be ignored—cut from steel and shadow, yet somehow stillpart of this warm, peaceful space. Their loyalty radiates from every glance, every nod, every quiet watchful second.
They belong here, in this moment.
They arefamily.
Even if Chase’s suit-and-tie crew inside is probably losing their minds trying to figure out why a goat is trotting across a perfectly manicured yard, bleating at a man who may or may not be carrying a gun tucked under his leather.
But that’s the beauty of this life.
Ofour life.
It’s messy and mismatched and wild in all the right ways. It’s floral serenity tangled with iron loyalty. And for the first time in what feels like forever, I don’t feel caught between two worlds.
I feel grounded.
Rooted.
Home.
Petey comes running past as Polly screeches out from his cage inside so loudly we can hear him. “Rawrr…feed me, feed me.”
