Chapter 8 Emma
EMMA
Inod and follow my dad through the crowd and out onto the back patio. It’s significantly quieter out here—just a few people smoking and talking in low voices.
We claim a table in the corner, and for a moment we just sit. The music from inside is muffled out here, a bass-heavy throb that vibrates through the walls.
“The place really does look amazing,” I say finally.
“Yeah, of course,” he says, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Sorry, I just . . . I’ve been wanting to apologize for a long time.”
“Dad, can we—” I stop, holding my barely touched whiskey between both hands. “Can we not do that? Not tonight.” I take a shaky breath, trying to compose myself.
“Yeah, of course,” he says, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Sorry, I just . . . I’ve been wanting to apologize for a long time.”
I look up and meet his eyes properly, taking in the years that have etched their way into his face.
In my memory, he’s always been the same young father who watched my mom and me move across the country when I was thirteen and didn’t even think about following.
But now that I’m twenty-eight and he’s forty-seven, I’m starting to see the changes in him.
“I appreciate that, Dad. But it’s in the past. We can’t change it.”
He nods, hesitating for a moment. “All right.”
“Thank you.”
“But Emma—” He leans forward, elbows on the table. “It’s good to see you. Really good. I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.”
“How long are you staying?”
There’s the question I’ve been dreading. Because I don’t actually have a good answer.
“I’m not sure yet,” I hedge. “I’ve got some time off. Thought I’d spend a few weeks here.”
“A few weeks?” His eyebrows rise. “That’s more than you usually give us.”
“Yeah, well.” I shrug. “Figured it was time.”
“What about the company? Your classes?”
“I’m on sabbatical. And I got someone to cover my classes.” All true. Mostly.
I’m leaving out the part where I’ve been struggling with an ankle injury that’s been getting progressively worse, and my physical therapist strongly suggested taking a break before I permanently damage something.
And the part where I’ve been so disconnected from performing that my director pulled me aside last month and asked if I was ‘still passionate about dance.’
I couldn’t give him an answer.
“Emma.” Dad’s voice is gentle. “What’s really going on?”
“Nothing. I just—” I look around the patio, at the bar, anywhere but at him. “I needed a break. New York is . . . it’s a lot sometimes.”
“Uh-huh.”
I can feel him watching me, reading me the way he’s been able to since I was a kid. It’s unnerving and comforting in equal measure.
“You looking for someone?” he asks after a moment.
“What? No.” The lie is automatic and unconvincing.
Dad’s quiet. Then he lets out a sigh. “He left about twenty minutes ago.”
My eyes flick up to his. “What?”
“Bones. You’re looking for Bones.” It’s not a question. “He left. Said he had an early morning—he’s been working construction with the Bennett crew, so he’s up at five most days.”
“Oh.” I try to keep my voice neutral. “Why is he working construction?”
“Because he needed a job.”
“OK.” I let the sound drag out. “But . . . isn’t he .
. .” I know I shouldn’t be asking. This is club business, and I’ve been told to stay out of it dozens of times.
But if Bones needed a job, that means he isn’t working for the club anymore.
And if he isn’t working for the club anymore, that means . . . “Dad. Did you strip his rank?”
Dad’s expression hardens. “That’s club business.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only answer you’re getting.” He takes a drink, his jaw tight. “You don’t get to come back here after six months and start asking questions about club decisions.”
“I’m not asking about club decisions. I’m asking about Bones.”
“Same thing.” His eyes are steel now. “He’s a member of this club. What happens between him and me is between him and me.”
“You punished him.” The realization sits heavy in my gut. “Because of me. Because of what happened.”
Dad sets his beer down hard enough that it sloshes. “I punished him because he violated your trust, violated my trust when he refused to bring you back. He put you in danger with his obsessive bullshit.”
“That’s not fair—”
“Isn’t it?” Dad leans forward. “Emma, he had a GPS chip in your body without your knowledge. Tricked you into wearing a tracking necklace for years. You want me to just overlook that because he saved you? Because you two—” He stops, jaw clenching.
“Because the whole club got to hear what you two did?”
My face burns. “That’s what this is about? You’re embarrassed?”
“I’m furious!” His voice rises slightly, then he checks himself, glancing around to make sure we’re still relatively alone. “You’re my daughter. He was supposed to protect you, not—” He stops again, runs a hand over his face. “Not that.”
“I’m twenty-eight years old, Dad. I can sleep with whomever I want.”
“Not in my clubhouse. Not with a brother whose job it was to keep you safe. He was never supposed to . . . touch you.”
“Dad,” I exhale deeply, struggling to keep my voice steady. “Bones is an adult, and I’m an adult, and what happened between us was consensual and private.”
“Private?” He lets out a harsh laugh. “The whole damn club heard you two. Do you have any idea what that did? What position that put me in?”
“So this is about your pride.”
“This is about respect. For you, for the club, for the order we maintain.” He stands abruptly.
“He crossed a line, Emma. Multiple lines. I gave him direct orders that he ignored. So yeah, I stripped his officer patch. And yeah, I told him to stay away from you. Because someone needed to enforce boundaries since neither of you seemed capable of it.”
I stand too, anger flaring hot in my chest. “You ordered him away from me?”
“For his own good. And yours.”
“That’s not your decision to make!”
“Like hell it isn’t. You’re my daughter—”
“I’m an adult! You don’t get to dictate my relationships!”
“I’m not dictating your relationships. I’m maintaining order in my club.” His voice is firm, final. “Bones fucked up. He paid the price. That’s how it works.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.” I grab my jacket from the bench. “You punished him because you were embarrassed. Because you couldn’t control what happened. Because your precious rules and your pride matter more than—”
“Than what? Than my daughter’s safety? Than the trust of my brothers?”
“Than people being happy!” The words burst out before I can stop them. “You’d rather everyone follow your rules and be miserable than break protocol and actually live their lives!”
Dad’s face goes stony. “Is that what you think of me?”
“I think—” I stop, trying to get control of my voice. “I think you care more about being president than being my father.”
“That’s not fair—”
“You want to talk about fair?” My voice rises. “You want to talk about who really put me in danger? I got kidnapped because I’m YOUR daughter, Dad. Because of YOUR club. Because of YOUR enemies. Bones didn’t put me in danger—YOU did. He just cleaned up your mess.”
Dad flinches at my words, the color draining from his face.
“Emma—”
“No. You don’t get to punish him for doing something to keep me safe when the only reason I needed saving in the first place was because of your life choices.
Because you’re the President of Stoneheart MC, and that makes me a target.
So don’t stand there acting like you’re protecting me when YOU’RE the one who—”
“You think I don’t know that?” Dad’s voice cracks, and I’ve never heard him sound like this.
Raw. Broken. “You think I haven’t thought about that every damn day for six months?
That my daughter almost died because of me?
That I had to listen to you screaming for help over a phone and couldn’t do a goddamn thing about it? ”
I freeze. I’ve never seen my father cry, but his eyes are wet now.
“But at least I never lied to you about what I am,” he continues, voice rough.
“At least I never put a tracker in your body. At least I gave you the choice to walk away from this life—which you did. You’ve been safe in New York, away from all of this.
And one of the rare times you come back, that one time you entered my world again, they fucking took you. ”
His voice breaks completely and he scrubs a hand over his face and breathes in a stuttered breath.
“So yeah, I punished Bones. Because on top of everything else, when there’s danger to the club, the club locks down until the danger is gone and everyone’s safe.
He broke lockdown. He took you back out there where I couldn’t protect you and he refused to bring you back.
He’s lucky he still has his patch at all,” Dad says, his voice steadying. “But that’s where my mercy ends.”
I stare at him, anger warring with understanding. “He didn’t break lockdown, Dad. I did. He’s the one who found me. Again.”
His eyes fly to mine, and instead of acknowledging that he was wrong, he just tenses his jaw. Typical. I look away and shake my head.
“I’m not a child anymore,” I say, voice shaking. “You don’t get to decide what’s safe for me. You don’t get to push people away from me because you’re scared. I’m the one who got kidnapped. I’m the one who’s been living with the nightmares. And I’m the one who gets to decide what and who I need.”
“Emma—”
“I came back here because I wanted to. Because I missed home. Because I—” I stop, swallow hard.
“Because I need to see him. And you telling him to stay away, stripping his rank, treating him like a criminal—that’s not about me.
That’s about you. Your guilt, your fear, your need to control something you haven’t been able to control for a very long time. ”
He goes quiet. When he speaks, his voice is controlled but distant.
“If that’s how you feel, then maybe it’s better you stay in New York.”
It lands like a slap.
“Yeah.” I get up and shove my arms back through my jacket sleeves. “Maybe it is.”
I turn and walk back inside, blinking back tears I refuse to let fall. The party is still going strong—music, laughter, celebration—but it all feels spoiled now.
I push through the crowd, ignoring Kya calling my name, ignoring Lee trying to catch my arm. I need air. I need space. I need—
I need to get out of here.
Outside, the parking lot is full of bikes and cars. I fumble for my keys, hands shaking with anger and hurt and frustration.
“Emma!”
Lee catches up with me, slightly out of breath. “Hey. Where are you going?”
“Dad’s. No. I don’t know. Somewhere else.” I unlock my car. “I shouldn’t have come back.”
“Yes, you should have.” Lee’s voice is gentle. “Dad’s just—he’s been wound tight about this whole thing for months. He’ll calm down.”
“Will he?” I laugh bitterly. “Because from where I’m standing, he made his position pretty clear.”
“He’s hurt, Em. Shit was going down, and you left without saying goodbye.
We didn’t hear from you for weeks. And then when we did, it was just—” Lee gestures vaguely.
“Surface stuff. You never talked about what happened. Never let us know what was going on in your head. Just disappeared back to New York like nothing changed.”
“Everything changed,” I whisper.
“I know.” Lee pulls me into a hug. “I know it did.”
I let myself lean into my brother, let him hold me like he used to when we were kids and the world felt too big.
“He left,” I say against his shoulder. “I came here to see him and he left.”
“Who? Bones?”
I nod.
“Yeah.” Lee doesn’t sound surprised. “That’s been his move lately—avoid anything that spells feelings.”
“Do you know where he is? Dad said he stripped his rank. So does he even live at the clubhouse anymore?”
Lee pulls back, studies my face. “Above Yu’s Laundromat. But Em—”
“I know. Dad told him I was off limits. Threatened his patch.” I wipe my eyes. “I just—I need to talk to him. I drove all this way to see him, and I’m not leaving without at least—”
“Saying what you came to say,” Lee finishes. “I get it. But maybe not tonight? You’re upset, Dad’s upset, Bones is probably freaking out—”
“All the more reason to get it over with.”
Lee sighs. “You’re as stubborn as Dad, you know that?”
“Learned from the best.”
He gives me directions to the apartment—turn right on Cedar Street, above the laundromat with the blue awning, metal stairs leading up the outside—and makes me promise to text him when I decide where I’m sleeping so he knows I’m safe.
“And Em? For what it’s worth, I think you coming back is good. Even if Dad’s being an ass about it.” He squeezes my shoulder. “We’ve missed you.”
“Missed you too.”
I get in my car and sit there for a moment, trying to compose myself. The fight with Dad is still ringing in my ears, his words cutting deeper than I want to admit.
But he’s wrong.
He has to be wrong.
Because if he’s right—if coming back here was a mistake, if Bones and I are better off apart, if this whole thing is just me being selfish and reckless—
Then I just drove across state lines for nothing.