Own the Wind

Epilogue

Start Now

Two weeks later…

I swung off Shy’s bike, my eyes to the view.

Denver was lit up, sprawling left to right but beyond, nothing but darkness.

All of it beautiful.

I moved to the edge of the mountain road, my cheeks stinging from the cold that whipped them as I rode up to elevation with Shy, me where I belonged.

On the back of my man’s bike.

I felt him move in behind me. He wrapped his arms around my chest, then I felt his lips against the top of my hair.

“What’s on my girl’s mind?” he asked quietly.

He so knew me.

“Natalie,” I replied, lifting my hands and curling my fingers around his forearms.

My friend had fallen off the wagon, not that she ever really got on.

It didn’t take long.

It also broke my heart.

After that, I broke ties. It killed, but I couldn’t save her so I had to save my peace of mind. The problem with that was, it wasn’t working.

I felt his lips leave my hair but his jaw replaced them.

We stared at the view silently.

I broke our silence.

“You gave her a chance, she blew it. Went out and scored. You cut her loose and now, I don’t know.” My hands gripped his arms tight. “Shy, I don’t know and as ticked as I am at her, I’m worried.”

I felt him heave a breath, his chest expanding, pressing into my back.

“You know what I know?” he asked.

“What do you know?” I asked back.

“I know you can spend your energy and head space worryin’, and a bitch who was minutes away from being force fed pussy goes out and scores is not worth it.”

I closed my eyes.

He was so right.

“You wanna know what else I know?” he asked.

I opened my eyes.

“What do you know?” I asked back.

“No amount of your energy or head space is gonna change her. She’s lost, Tabby, in a way it’s a miracle if she’s ever found. Before you use yourself up, cut her loose. Don’t just say it to her, to me, to yourself. Do it.”

I swallowed.

Shy was right again.

Therefore I nodded.

His arms tightened and he pressed his lips into the top of my hair.

“You wanna know what else I know?” he asked.

“What do you know, honey?”

“My girl is gonna marry me.”

I blinked.

His arms broke free from my grip and he turned me. When I was face-to-face with him, he dug into his pocket. When his hand came out, he grabbed mine and slid the marquise diamond on my left ring finger.

I stared.

It was stunning, beautiful. Not too big that it would catch on stuff and make me worry. Not too small it didn’t say what it needed to say.

And what it said was what the sapphire earrings right then in my ears said:

I was loved by a badass biker.

I held my hand in front of my face, fingers extended, Shy’s hand wrapped around mine, thumb to the base of the ring, and I stared through the dark at its beauty.

“You didn’t get to go with but picking this out was too important, so I took Cherry,” he told me and my startled eyes moved to his face.

There it was again.

I was loved.

“She said that would be your thing so that’s what you got,” he finished.

“It is,” I said softly. “It is exactly my thing.”

He grinned at me. “And that’s what you got.”

I stared at him then right out of my mouth came, “I’ve wanted you since I was sixteen, Shy Cage.”

Shy’s hand moved to slide up my neck and stopped, cupping my jaw.

“Then I’m slow on the uptake, though wantin’ that would be illegal. But I’ve wanted you since you were nineteen and you stuck your tongue in my mouth,” he returned, then muttered, “Thinkin’ on it, even before.”

“I didn’t stick my tongue in your mouth. I touched the tip to yours to show you what you were missing,” I corrected, and his grin got bigger.

“Good job, sugar. Taste was so sweet, years passed and I couldn’t get it off my tongue.”

Suddenly, tears filled my eyes.

“We’re getting married,” I whispered.

“Yeah,” he replied, still grinning.

“We’re getting married,” I repeated.

“Yeah, babe, and I like it that you like the way those words taste in your mouth, but I’d like it more if you’d shut up and kiss me.”

I didn’t kiss him. I said, “We’re getting married.”

Shy went quiet then he let my hand go so he could cup my jaw as he dipped his face close. “Yeah, Tabby, baby. We’re getting married.”

My head dropped forward, my forehead hitting his. I curved my fingers around his wrists and held tight.

“I’m gonna wear your mom’s diamonds at the wedding,” I told him.

“Good, I want her and Dad there with you and me,” he told me.

A tear slid down my cheek. Shy’s thumb shifted and caught it midrun.

I said nothing but I felt everything.

“Tabby, love you, honey but you’re kinda freakin’ me out,” Shy admitted.

“I don’t know what to do,” I confessed.

“About what?”

“Being this happy.”

His fingers flexed on my jaws as he pressed his forehead into mine.

Then he said, his voice rough, “Start now.”

“Pardon?” I asked.

“Start now,” he repeated.

“Shy—”

“Start now, Tabitha. Start gettin’ used to it.”

I stared into his eyes as another tear slid out of mine.

“I dreamed a dream,” I whispered.

His voice was gruff when he ordered, “Shut up and kiss me.”

I didn’t shut up. Another tear slid out of my eye and my voice was husky when I repeated, “I dreamed a dream, Shy Cage.”

He shifted so his lips were against mine and his voice was now raw when he ordered, “Shut up, baby, and kiss me.”

“I dreamed a dream when I was sixteen and here I am, standing with my dream, feeling it come real.”

“Fuck me,” he muttered.

Then I knew he’d lost patience, because Shy slanted his head and kissed me.

Yes.

I dreamed a dream and there I was, a ring on my finger, my man’s mouth on mine, standing with my dream, feeling it come real.

I was right about what I was feeling.

I was feeling everything.

And it was beautiful.

Six months later…

In front of the altar at our church, I stood next to Shy while holding a bouquet of ivory roses with white hydrangeas at the base, the stems wrapped in ivory satin ribbon, my hair up in a series of elegant curls and twists because, for some reason, Shy requested it be that way.

I was wearing an ivory gown, also sophisticated (to go with my hair), the garter Ty-Ty wore at her wedding to Dad around my thigh, Shy’s mother’s diamond earrings at my ears.

In this getup, I was getting married to Shy.

Tyra was my matron of honor.

Landon was Shy’s best man.

Dad, of course, gave me away.

We didn’t bother with a flower girl, since Rider and Cutter both played ring bearers.

Being a now-somewhat-experienced old lady, I managed to hold myself together and not cry when I said, “I do.”

I lost it when Shy said it, but I figured that was okay since I could hear Tyra crying right along with me.

The best part of the ceremony was after Shy kissed his bride, and when we were done, he didn’t let go. So I stood in his arms, my thumb stroking his jaw, my eyes gazing up at him. The world had melted away, so I didn’t hear the hoots and hollers of friends and family.

I only heard what he muttered in a voice that was weirdly raw but unbelievably beautiful:

“Like I’m the only man on the planet.”

In that minute, he was but then again, for me, really, when it came down to it, he always had been.

Though I didn’t understand why he said those words and even later, when I asked, he didn’t answer. He just smiled at me.

I figured I should let him have his secret. It didn’t matter anyway, because the words he spoke were true.

After the ceremony, we had a big blowout. The shindig to end all shindigs.

And the best part of that was after we had our first dance as husband and wife to a lame song I picked, Shy again didn’t let me go.

Seconds later, Jose Gonzalez’s “Heartbeats” started playing.

A very not-lame song that Shy picked.

It wasn’t exactly a song you could dance to, so we didn’t. We just looked into each other’s eyes, held each other close, and swayed as I let the words of the beautiful poem Shy chose for us wash over me.

It was the best day of my life, and a lot of that had to do with looking into my husband’s eyes and seeing, plainly, it was the best day of his.

The only man on the planet.

The only man for me.

And life was very, very good.

Paradise.