Page 159 of Joker

Later, after Lexi finally crashes hard enough that her little body goes boneless with sleep in his lap, he doesn’t even wait for me to ask.

He just stands, shifts her carefully into his arms, and says, “C’mon, angel.”

Of course he’s taking her to bed. Of course I’m following. Of course this is what family looks like.

And God help me, by the time we tuck her in together, Bunny under one arm and the blanket tucked under her chin just the way she likes it, I am so far gone there’s probably no saving me.

Not that I think I’d want it if there was.

***

When we finally make it back to his room later that night, the clubhouse is quieter. Not silent. Never silent. But softer.

Settling.

The kind of late-night peace that only comes after a house full of people has spent hours laughing and loving each other loudly enough to wear itself out.

Joker shuts the door behind us and turns the lock without thinking. Not because he’s worried. Because habit is habit. Because safety is built in layers.

I watch him move through the room, peeling off his cut and tossing it over the chair, then turning back toward me with that same look he’s been giving me all night.

Steady. Dark. Knowing.

I lean back against the dresser and let him come to me.

He always does. And somehow that still hasn’t stopped affecting me like a direct hit to the chest. When he gets close enough, his hands settle low on my waist and his forehead tips lightly to mine.

Neither of us says anything for a second. We don’t need to.

The whole night is still hanging between us anyway.

The toast. The laughter. Lexi in his lap. The room full of people who looked at me like I belonged there and meant it.

It’s all still alive in my chest, bright and aching and a little too much.

Joker’s thumbs brush slow over my sides. “You’re thinking too loud,” he murmurs.

A soft laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “That’s not a real thing.”

“It is when I know your face.”

I look up at him then.Really look.

At the man in front of me. At the steadiness in him. At the way he holds me like I am both something precious and something he would absolutely destroy the world to keep.

And before I can stop myself, before my brain has time to throw up all its usual walls and warning signs, one impossible, beautiful, terrifying thought slips free and settles right in the center of me.

Forever.

Not tomorrow. Not next week. Notwhile I’m here.Notuntil this is over.

Forever.

What would that look like?

Waking up in his bed every morning and never having to pretend it’s temporary. Lexi with her own room and stickers on the walls and Bunny permanently losing one ear under the violence of being loved too hard. Coffee already made before I’m fully awake. His boots in the hall. His laugh when Lexi asks him something ridiculous.

A place that’s ours. A life that’s real. A home that doesn’t have fear baked into the foundation.