Trust - Page 229

Blake ignored him. His eyes were on me, and I saw something there. Understanding. The weight of years and prison cells and second chances neither of us probably deserved.

“She’s lucky,” Tessa said quietly. “She’s got four uncles who’d burn down the world for her.”

I looked around the room. Jace with his arm around Scarlett. Ryker with his arm around Faith. Axel with Dakota tucked against his side. All of them watching me hold this tiny, perfect thing.

My brothers.

Blood didn’t make family. I’d learned that lesson the hard way. But these men, the ones who’d stood by me when I was arrested, who’d visited me in prison, who’d never once looked at me like I was less than human …

They were my family.

“Damn right she does,” I said, and carefully transferred Ellie back to her father before I did something stupid. Like prove Axel right about me going soft.

Harper slipped her hand back into mine, and I felt the familiar soothing rhythm of her pulse against my palm. Steady. Calm.

Home.

“So …” Jace cleared his throat in that businesslike way of his. “How’s the new venture going now that you and Axel are officially partners?”

I glanced at Axel. “We’re getting there. The program’s already helped twelve guys transition out successfully. Jobs, housing, therapy. The whole package.”

Someday, Ronan would be on that list. I couldn’t wait.

Dakota beamed at us like we’d just announced world peace. “I’m so proud of you both. My brother and my boyfriend, changing lives together.”

I still wasn’t thrilled that Axel Pierce was dating my little sister. The man had the emotional range of a Check Engine light. But watching them together, watching the way he softened around her, the way his hand never stopped touching her, like he needed to confirm she was real …

I was getting there.

“And, Faith”—Harper turned to her friend—“how’s the House of Faith going?”

Faith’s face practically glowed as she thought about the program she and Jace and Axel had developed to help foster kids aging out of the system. “Twenty-three kids as of last week, with more applications coming in every day. We just got approval for the expansion, so we’ll be able to take in another fifteen by spring. And we’re opening more in five cities next year.”

“Twenty-three aged-out foster kids with somewhere to go,” Ryker said, his voice rough with pride. “Twenty-three kids who know someone gives a damn about them.”

“Twenty-four,” Faith corrected softly. “We got a new referral yesterday. Seventeen-year-old girl from Oregon. She ages out next month and has nowhere to go.”

“She does now,” I said.

Faith smiled at me, and I saw in her eyes the same thing I felt in my chest.

Redemption.

Not the kind you earned with good behavior or parole hearings. The kind you built, one day at a time, by showing up. By being present. By refusing to let the worst thing you’d ever done be the only thing that defined you.

Harper leaned her head against my shoulder, and I felt her whole body relax. Safe. Content. Here, surrounded by the people we loved, in a room filled with new beginnings.

I thought about everything it had taken to get to this moment. Fourteen years in a cell. Years of parole denials. The weight of what I’d done and the reasons I’d done it.

And what came after.

The slow, careful work of rebuilding a relationship with my daughter. The therapy sessions. The hard conversations. The moments when she looked at me and I saw myself reflected back, not as a monster, but as her father.

We weren’t there yet. But we were closer every day.

And then there was Harper.

The woman who’d seen through my walls before I even knew I had them. Who’d looked at a convicted killer and found someone worth fighting for.