Chapter Six
Analese
The morning sun gleamed off the hood of my new car, a thoughtful gift from Bobby that still felt too extravagant for someone just trying to stay afloat. As I pulled into Jax and Tara's driveway, the warmth of the day contrasted with the unease brewing in my stomach. Today wasn't just a trip to the zoo; it was another step toward becoming a part of my daughters' lives—lives I'd been absent from for far too long.
The front door swung open, and before I could even unbuckle my seatbelt, Daisy and Ivy came bounding out, their laughter filling the quiet street.
"Ana!" they called, their voices bright and eager.
I stepped out of the car, bracing myself for the onslaught of hugs as they flung themselves at me. Their small arms wrapped around my waist, and for a moment, all the doubts and fears melted away.
"Are you ready for our big adventure?" I asked, crouching down to their level.
"Yes!" Daisy exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Ivy nodded vigorously, her hand already clutching mine.
Jax followed them out, his presence commanding even in the relaxed atmosphere of a sunny morning. He walked over with measured steps, his gaze steady but guarded.
"Remember, Ana," he said, his voice low, "we're trusting you with this. Make sure they're safe."
"I promise, Jax," I replied, meeting his eyes. "I'll take care of them."
His lips pressed into a thin line, and he gave a small nod before stepping back toward the house. As I buckled the girls into their seats, I caught Tara watching us from the window, her expression unreadable. I wondered what she saw when she looked at me. A threat? A stranger? Or maybe just a reminder of a life Jax had before her.
The drive to the zoo was filled with the girls' chatter, their voices weaving a tapestry of youthful excitement as they listed every animal they wanted to see. The tension I'd carried into the car slowly began to ease, replaced by the simple joy of their presence.
When we arrived, the zoo's lively atmosphere enveloped us: the distant roar of a lion, the chatter of children, the scent of popcorn and hay mingling in the warm breeze. Daisy and Ivy grabbed my hands, practically dragging me toward the entrance.
Our first stop was the lion enclosure, where the girls pressed their faces to the glass, their eyes wide with wonder.
"Look how big they are!" Ivy gasped.
"They're so cool," Daisy added, her voice tinged with awe.
We wandered from exhibit to exhibit, their laughter and delight making the day feel like a dream. At the petting zoo, Ivy hesitated before offering a goat a handful of pellets. When it nibbled gently from her palm, her face lit up with pure joy.
"Look, Ana! It likes me!" she giggled, her earlier nerves forgotten.
"You're a natural," I said, smiling as she petted the goat's coarse fur. "Maybe you'll work with animals one day."
"Maybe!" she replied, her eyes wide with possibilities.
We took a break for lunch under the shade of an oak tree, the girls' chatter filling the quiet moments as they recounted their favorite animals. As the day wore on, we visited the reptile house, the aviary, and even circled back to see the lions one more time. By the time we headed for the car, Daisy and Ivy were practically bouncing with joy.
"Can we come back again soon?" Daisy asked as I buckled her in.
"Of course," I replied, my heart swelling. "We can make it a regular thing."
When we returned to Jax and Tara's house, the girls burst through the door, their voices tumbling over each other as they recounted every detail of the day.
"Mom! Dad! We saw lions and tigers, and I fed a goat!" Ivy exclaimed, her excitement contagious.
Tara looked up from the kitchen table, a polite smile on her lips, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of something else—something guarded. "That sounds wonderful, girls. I'm glad you had fun."
Jax ruffled Daisy's hair, his gaze flicking briefly to me. "Sounds like Ana took good care of you."
"She did!" Daisy said, wrapping her arms around me. "Thank you, Ana. This was the best day ever."
"You're welcome, sweetheart," I said, my voice thick with emotion.
As I prepared to leave, I felt Tara's eyes on me, sharp and assessing. There was a tension in the air, an unspoken acknowledgment that I was stepping into territory she wasn't ready to share. Jax walked me to the door, his expression thoughtful.
"You're doing good, Ana," he said quietly. "Daisy and Ivy are happy. That's what matters."
"Thanks, Jax," I replied, though his words felt like a double-edged sword. As much as I wanted to be in my daughters' lives, I knew it wasn't going to be easy—not with Tara, not with the club, and certainly not with the shadow of the past looming over me.
Tara
That night, as I sit on the porch with Jax, the weight of the day settles heavily on my shoulders. The warm evening air is thick with the scent of jasmine, and the crickets' song fills the silence between us. The reality of what's happening is hitting me hard. Daisy and Ivy are growing closer to Ana, and while I want to support Jax's decision to give her a chance, I can't shake the feeling that Ana is becoming a threat to my role in their lives.
"I'm glad the girls had a good time today," Jax says, breaking the silence.
"Yeah," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. "But Jax, we need to be careful. Ana's getting really close to them. Really fast."
He shakes his head, looking out over the yard where the moonlight casts long shadows across the grass. "Ana is their mother, Tara. She's getting the right amount of close to them. I've been thinking about when the right time to tell them she's their mother is."
"Are you serious?" I ask, the surprise in my voice evident.
He nods, as if the decision has already been made. "Tara, the girls are going to start questioning why they're spending so much time with Ana. They aren't stupid. They remember before you came back to town. We haven't had to deal with this conversation yet, but it's time. We're no different or better than other blended families."
His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I knew this moment would come, but now that it's here, I'm not sure how to handle it. The idea of sharing Daisy and Ivy with Ana terrifies me. What if they start seeing her as their primary mother? What if I lose them?
"Jax, I just want to make sure we're doing the right thing," I say, trying to keep my voice calm, though inside I'm anything but. "This could be really confusing for them."
"I get that," he says, his tone softening as he turns to face me. "But they deserve to know the truth, Tara. They deserve to know who Ana is and why she wasn't around. We can't keep it from them forever."
I sigh, the sound heavy in the still night air. I know he's right, but that doesn't make it any easier. "I just hope it doesn't change things too much."
"It will change things," Jax says, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "But it doesn't have to be a bad change. We'll handle it together."
I nod, trying to take comfort in his words, but the knot in my stomach refuses to loosen. I glance back at the house, where Daisy and Ivy are likely asleep, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in their world. I have to be strong for them, no matter how difficult this is for me.
Jax
There's something about the way Happy's been acting that I can't shake. He's never been the type to show much emotion, but his reaction to Ana being back... It's more than just a coincidence.
After dropping Daisy and Ivy off at school, I head to Wendy's apartment. She's been laying low since getting out of rehab, tryingto rebuild her life quietly. Wendy's place is in a quieter part of town, away from the hustle of Charming's main streets. The apartment complex is modest, surrounded by tall trees that offer a sense of privacy. As I park the bike and walk up to her door, I can't help but feel a sense of unease. There are too many unanswered questions, and I'm hoping Wendy can shed some light on at least a few of them.
I knock on the door, and after a moment, Wendy opens it, her expression a mix of surprise and wariness. She's dressed casually, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, and there's a slight tension in her posture that tells me she's still on edge from her own battles.
"Jax," she says, stepping aside to let me in. "What brings you here?"
"I need to talk to you about Ana," I say, cutting straight to the point as I step into her small living room. The space is cozy, with a few personal touches that make it feel like a home—pictures of Abel, a few potted plants, and a bookshelf filled with well-worn novels.
Wendy's face tightens slightly, and she gestures for me to sit down on the couch. "What about Ana?"
I sit down, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. "I need to know what went down with her and Happy back in Tacoma. He's been on edge ever since she got out, and I've got a bad feeling about it."
Wendy's eyes flicker with something—hesitation, maybe even fear. She sits down across from me, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "Jax, that's something Ana should tell you herself."
"I'm not asking for her life story, Wendy," I say, my tone firm but not unkind. "I just need to know if there's something I should be worried about. I need to protect my family, and right now, I don't have all the pieces."
Wendy looks down at her hands, her fingers twisting together anxiously. "Happy and Ana... they were close. Closer than I think most people realized. But it wasn't just a normal relationship. Happy's always been... different. And Ana, she was drawn to that."
I lean back slightly, absorbing her words. "How close are we talking?"
"They were together," Wendy says, finally meeting my gaze. "But it was complicated. Happy... he's not the type to get attached, but Ana got under his skin in a way that nobody else did. When she went to prison, it messed with him more than he'd ever admit. He blamed himself for not being able to protect her."
"That explains why he's so pissed off," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. "Why didn't he ever say anything?"
Wendy shrugs slightly. "Because it's Happy. He doesn't talk about his feelings, and I think he figured it was better if nobody knew. Maybe he thought it would make him look weak, or maybe he didn't want anyone to know how much she meant to him."
"Do you think he's going to be a problem for her now that she's back?" I ask, the concern in my voice evident.
Wendy hesitates, her eyes clouded with uncertainty. "I don't know, Jax. Happy's unpredictable. He cares about Ana, but he's also got a lot of anger. If he feels like she betrayed him by coming back here and not telling him... it could get messy."
I nod, a sense of foreboding settling over me. "Thanks, Wendy. I appreciate you being honest with me."
She gives me a small, sad smile. "Just... be careful, Jax. Ana's been through a lot, and so has Happy. Whatever you decide to do, just make sure it's the right thing for everyone."
I stand up, feeling the weight of the conversation pressing down on me. "I'll do what I can to keep things from getting out of hand."
As I leave Wendy's apartment and get back on my bike, my mind is racing. There's a lot more to this situation than I initially thought, and I know I need to tread carefully. Ana's return has stirred up a lot of emotions, and with Happy involved, the stakes just got a whole lot higher.
Happy
I sit in the corner of the clubhouse, beer in hand, back to the wall like always. The party rolls on around me, loud and chaotic, but it's just background noise. My eyes stay on the door, though I don't know why. She's not coming here, not tonight.
Ana.
She's been back for weeks now, and I can't get her out of my head. The way she looks at her kids, like they're her whole damn world. The way she carries herself, like she's still got the weight of the inside on her shoulders but refuses to let it crush her. It stirs something in me I don't like. Something that makes me feel... off.
I take a long swig of beer, letting the burn slide down my throat. It doesn't help. Nothing has since I laid eyes on her again. I thought I'd buried all that shit years ago—left it behind in Tacoma, in Stockton, in the past where it belongs.
But seeing her now? It's like pulling the pin on a grenade. All the old memories, the ones I locked down and tried to forget, are back. That night she called me, drunk and scared, asking me to come get her. The way she looked at me, like I was the only one she trusted. I knew then I was in trouble. Should've stayed away, but I didn't. Couldn't.
And now? Now she's here in Charming, with her kids and her complicated history with Jax. The golden boy. My brother. The man who has everything, including her.
I glance down at the beer in my hand, the label peeling under my thumb. The truth is, I was too late. Even before I went inside, I was running out of time. Four months away from claiming her, from making her mine for good, and I get locked up. I should've seen it coming. Should've been smarter. But the moment the cuffs went on, I knew everything was over.
I thought I could hate her for moving on. For choosing Jax. For getting pregnant with his kids. But it wasn't her I hated. It was me. And that anger, that rage—it's the only thing that kept me going in Stockton. The fights, the violence, the tattoos—they were the only way to survive, to kill off the parts of me that felt anything.
So why the hell is she bringing it all back now?
I lean back against the wall, my jaw tight. I've changed since the last time she knew me. I'm not that guy anymore, the one who picked her up from a shitty bar and promised to take care of her. That guy's long gone. What's left is colder, harder. And I'm damn sure not someone she needs in her life right now.
But that doesn't stop me from watching her. From wondering what she's thinking, what she's feeling. And it sure as hell doesn't stop the questions gnawing at me. Like why she came back here of all places. Like why she's acting like the past doesn't exist. Like why I can't let it go.
My eyes flick to the door again. I tell myself it's nothing, just a habit, but it's a lie. I've been looking for her since the moment I knew she was back. Not to talk, not to reconnect. Just to see her. To figure out if she's still the same Ana or if time and the world have hardened her the way it did me.
I don't know what I'm gonna do about her, but I know one thing: I'm not walking away. Not this time.
Whatever this thing is between us—whatever it's always been—it's not done. Not yet.
Lodi Farmers Market
Ana
The air at the farmers market smells of ripe peaches, sun-warmed tomatoes, and freshly baked bread. A soft hum of chatter fills the space, punctuated by the occasional laugh or the clink of coins exchanging hands. It's the kind of lively chaos I've missed. I wander past rows of colorful produce, my basket steadily filling with bright red bell peppers, crisp green beans, and plump strawberries.
I've spent the last hour here, relishing the feeling of normalcy. There's something therapeutic about picking through the freshest fruits and vegetables, imagining all the things I can make. I found an old canning machine in Nate's house a few weeks ago, and now I'm planning on making fresh salsa, jars of spiced peaches, and maybe even a batch of strawberry jam. With every passing day, I feel a little closer to the person I used to be—strong, resourceful, hopeful.
As the sun begins its descent, casting everything in a golden glow, I load my bags into the trunk of my car and start the drive home. The quiet streets of Charming stretch out before me, lined with oak trees and bathed in the soft orange light of dusk. There's a peacefulness to this town that I've always loved, but tonight, something feels... off.
A prickle of unease crawls up my spine, setting me on edge. It's subtle at first, like the faintest whisper of a warning, but it grows stronger with every turn I take. The shadows cast by the sinking sun seem longer, darker, like they're creeping closer. I grip the steering wheel tighter, telling myself I'm just being paranoid.
When I turn onto my street, my breath catches in my throat. At the end of the block, a motorcycle sits idling, its engine a low, steady rumble. The rider is still, a dark helmet obscuring their face, and the posture—rigid, alert—makes my stomach twist.
I slow the car, my heart pounding against my ribs as I try to get a better look. The bike doesn't move. Whoever's on it isn't here by accident. They're not wearing a kutte and I can't identify them by bike alone.
I pull into my driveway, trying to act normal, but every nerve in my body is screaming. As I step out of the car, the warm air feels oppressive, heavy with the weight of unseen eyes. I glance over my shoulder, hoping for some sign that I'm imagining this. The motorcycle is still there, the rider unmoving, just watching.
Forcing my legs to move, I grab my bags and head inside, locking the door behind me. My hands tremble as I set the bags on the counter, and I have to take a moment to steady myself.
"Get it together, Ana," I whisper, leaning against the door. My voice sounds thin, even to me. "It's probably nothing. Just someone passing through."
But I don't believe it.
The sensation of being watched clings to me like a second skin, refusing to let go. I cross the living room and peek through the curtain, careful not to move it too much. The bike is still there, its engine humming quietly in the otherwise silent street.
A cold chill snakes through me, and my breath hitches. Could it be Happy? The thought sends my heart into a chaotic rhythm. The last thing I want is to see him, to dredge up all the memories I've spent years trying to forget. But if it's him... what does he want?
Minutes crawl by, each one feeling like an eternity, until finally, the motorcycle's engine revs. I watch as the rider turns and disappears down the street, the sound of the bike fading into the distance. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, but the tension doesn't ease.
Whatever this was, I know it isn't over.
Happy
The engine hums beneath me, a steady vibration I've come to rely on. The bike is like an extension of myself—calm, controlled, dangerous. I sit at the end of her street, the sun sinking low and casting long shadows across the neighborhood. The glow of her porch light flickers on, cutting through the growing darkness.
I don't know why I'm here. No, that's a lie—I know exactly why. I need to see her. Not to talk, not to explain myself. Just to watch. To remind myself that she's real, that she's here, and to figure out what the hell that means for me.
When I saw her earlier, driving back from town, she looked... happy. Like she belonged here. That smile on her face, the one I used to think was mine, stirred something I haven't felt in years. Something I've been trying to bury since the day I walked out of Stockton.
I sit back on the bike, letting the low rumble of the engine keep me grounded. She's inside now. I saw the way she glanced back before going in, like she could feel me watching her. She's always been sharp like that, always reading people better than they realized.
But she doesn't come back out.
The house stays quiet, the windows still. I should leave. There's no reason for me to sit here, no good that can come from this. But I can't bring myself to go—not yet.
The air cools as night settles in, the streetlights flickering on one by one. My hands tighten on the handlebars, and I finally fire up the engine, the sound cutting through the silence.
As I ride away, I know I've rattled her. She's probably pacing inside, trying to make sense of why I was here. Good. She should feel unsettled. She should know that I'm not going anywhere.
But there's a hollowness under my anger, a gnawing question I don't want to face: What am I really doing? Watching her, wanting answers, wanting... what, exactly?
Whatever this is, it's not simple. It never was. And the more I think about it, the more I realize there's only one way this ends.