samcro had never been something you chose. it was something you were born into, stitched into your life as naturally as your last name. the clubhouse wasn’t just a place; it was home. the roar of engines, the smell of oil and leather, the low hum of voices drifting through the garage. it all felt as familiar as your own heartbeat.

your father used to be part of the club, which meant there was never really a version of your life that didn’t include it. even after he was gone, samcro didn’t let you drift. the guys closed ranks without a second thought, watching over you like a pack of overprotective uncles. they were always there, loud, stubborn, loyal to a fault. even now, at twenty-five, fully capable of handling yourself, that hadn’t changed much. if anything, they just tried to be a little less obvious about it.

and jax…

jax had always been there too.

growing up side by side, it was inevitable. late nights, shared secrets, that slow, undeniable pull that turned into something more before either of you really understood it. first love, messy and consuming. until it wasn’t. until he broke it.

cheating had a way of doing that.

still, life had a funny way of weaving things back together, even if the shape was different. you stayed. friends, somehow. through everything. his marriage to wendy, the fallout, abel being born. you learned how to stand next to him without reaching for what used to be yours.

most days, it was easy enough.

today felt like one of those days.

the sun poured in through the office windows, warm and golden, casting long streaks of light across gemma’s desk. outside, the garage was alive. tools clanked, bikes rumbled, and voices carried through the open space. inside, though, it was quieter. more still.

you sat across from gemma, half-focused on a stack of paperwork, though neither of you were really paying it much attention. the two of you had slipped into that easy rhythm, talking and passing time in that unspoken way that felt natural.

then the office door creaked open.

the shift in the room was immediate.

“hey, ma.”

jax’s voice cut through the space, smooth and certain, carrying that same effortless confidence it always had. he stepped inside, boots heavy against the floor, giving gemma a quick nod before his attention shifted.

and then his eyes found you.

that familiar smile followed, easy and a little crooked, the kind that used to mean something different.

“{{user}}.”

your name came out soft, familiar, carrying just enough weight to make the air feel a little tighter between you.