Chapter 23: Ride or Die, Even at the Fair
(Slow Burn | Found Family | Chaos | SAMCRO Dad Mode | Hidden Danger | Cliffhanger)
Starting Trouble Before You Even Left the House…
“You got shot three days ago,” Jax said, arms crossed, brow set in that look that usually meant he wasn’t budging.
“I’m fine,” you shot back, zipping up your hoodie slow just to watch his jaw tick. “I can ride my own bike.”
Clay’s growl joined in from the living room, deep and iron-solid.
> “Ride with Jax. Ain’t up for buryin’ my daughter anytime soon.”
Opie, ever the brother in this mess, threw in his two cents without looking up from lacing his boots.
> “For once, I’m with Clay. Just take the damn back seat, alright? Give us one fuckin’ day without worryin’ if you’re bleedin’ somewhere.”
You arched a brow at Gemma, who blew smoke at the ceiling and said,
> “Boys actin’ like you don’t outride half of ‘em on your worst day.”
Her voice tipped the scale.
Jax cursed under his breath.
Clay muttered something about gray hairs and daughters who didn’t listen.
You smiled, kissed Jax slow and smug, grabbed your helmet off the counter.
Fairground Chaos: Round One
You rolled into the county fairgrounds ahead of the boys, bike purring like a promise beneath you. Felt good. Felt right.
They pulled in minutes later — Jax first, already shaking his head. Opie glaring. Clay scowling like he aged ten years on the ride over.
“You’re impossible,” Jax said, pulling you in for a kiss he didn’t want to admit settled him.
“You love me for it,” you teased.
“Still doesn’t mean I won’t tie you to my bike next time.”
Tig wandered past, grinning like the devil. “I volunteer.”
Gemma whacked him upside the head.
Games, Rides, and Heart Attacks (Again)
You weren’t about to let them smother you in bubble wrap just because you survived a bullet.
Out-shot Happy at the rifle range — barely.
Beat Tig at the strongman bell by cheating.
Dragged Chibs into bumper cars and rammed him into a wall hard enough he threatened to cut your brake lines.
“You’re givin’ me gray hairs, girl,” Opie muttered as you strutted by with another ridiculous stuffed animal prize.
“You’re already old,” you tossed back, earning a rare smile.
Even Jax couldn’t keep up with your chaos tonight. He followed, kissed you when you let him, cursed you when you didn’t.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he said as you stole the last bite of his funnel cake.
“I’m lucky I’m fast,” you teased, skipping just out of reach.
You slipped away for half a second — long enough to queue up for The Zipper before anyone noticed.
By the time Jax spotted you strapped in, the ride had started.
“Are you fuckin’ kidding me right now?!”
Opie’s hand slapped to his face. “Jesus Christ, again.”
Clay’s growl vibrated deep. “I swear to God—”
The ride jolted. Rocked harder than it should’ve.
Something mechanical clanked.
The car you were in swung high, jerked wrong, made even you grip the bar tighter.
“Fuck,” Jax hissed, already moving toward the operator.
Opie was right behind him.
Happy? Just stood with his arms crossed, eyes locked on you like he could will the bolts to hold through sheer intimidation.
The ride groaned. Slammed. Spun too fast.
Your laughter cut through the chaos.
When they pulled you off the ride, Jax had you in his arms before your feet hit solid ground.
“You’re insane,” he said into your hair.
“You love me for it,” you whispered back.
Clay’s voice cracked low and final:
> “I won’t bury my daughter anytime soon. We need you. Don’t make me remind you again.”
You just grinned, kissed his cheek, and promised to behave.
Fairground Chaos: Round Two
More games. More trouble. More teasing.
You handed Happy your cotton candy while you scaled the prize wall just to prove you could.
“You gonna keep stirrin’ shit up, girl?” Jax teased, watching you lean over the counter to claim your victory.
“Isn’t that why you love me?”
He kissed you slow. Lazy. Like he wanted to forget every fight and fear that led you here.
Opie just groaned from behind his beer.
> “I’m too old for this shit.”
“You’re thirty-five,” you called back.
But You Didn’t See It. Not Yet.
Somewhere behind the lights and the noise…
A man in a ball cap pulled low.
Phone pressed to his ear. Voice low. Watching.
“She’s alone enough. You just say when.”
Because tonight wasn’t about shadows.
It was about freedom. About clawing joy back from the grave.
It was cotton candy and bumper cars.
Cheap prizes and too-loud music.
SAMCRO watching over you with tired smiles and loaded guns.
You settled beside Jax on a bench as fireworks cracked red and gold across the sky.
Your stupid stuffed bear in your lap.
His arm heavy across your shoulders.
“You done now, darlin’?” Clay asked, somewhere between tired and fond.
“You’re not goin’ anywhere,” he said. “Not while I’m breathin’.”
Gemma blew smoke at the sky. “Told you boys. Fragile.”
Opie leaned in, quiet but firm:
> “Stay close. Don’t run off again.”
At the edge of the fairgrounds, beneath the dying fireworks…
> “Yeah. She’s here. I’ll follow when she leaves.
I know exactly where she’s goin’.”
