31. Ghost
I’ve faced down rival crews with nothing but a knife and a bad attitude. I’ve walked into warehouses where I was outnumbered ten to one. I’ve never flinched.
But standing here in front of Doc and Kasia’s house, holding a bouquet of lilies and a bottle of expensive bourbon, I feel like a prospect on his first day.
I parked the bike next to Shade’s familiar chopper, which is squeezed in beside Doc’s vintage cruiser.
It’s a domestic scene that feels like a foreign language to me.
I’ve never had a girlfriend’s parents to meet.
Hell, I’ve never really had a girlfriend.
My life has been a series of dom-sub relationships at Onyx where the rules were clear and the boundaries were reinforced with steel.
There was no “meeting the family.” There was no Sunday dinner.
There was only the heat of the scene and the silence that followed.
After Angel and I got married in LA, Doc has pretty much avoided us. This is the first time he invited us over.
Angel giggled as she hopped off the back of the bike, smoothing down her jeans. She looked at the flowers in my left hand and the whiskey in my right, her green eyes dancing with a mischief that usually makes me want to bend her over the nearest flat surface.
“You look adorable, Damien,” she teases, reaching up to adjust the collar of my shirt.
“Shut up,” I mutter, though there’s no heat in it. “I’m trying to be respectful.”
“You’re doing great. Kasia is going to melt.”
The front door swings open before we can even reach the porch. Shade stands there, leaning against the frame with a smirk that tells me I’m never going to hear the end of this. He looks at the flowers, then at the bottle, and lets out a bark of laughter.
“Oh my God!” Shade calls out, turning his head back toward the house. “Hey, Dad! Your son-in-law is here! He’s trying to buy your love with booze and garden weeds!”
“Fuck off, Shade,” I growl as we reach the door.
“Where’s my present, then?” Shade asks, blocking the way with a playful glint in his eye. “I’m your brother-in-law now. I expect at least a six-pack for not telling Dad about you two sooner.”
I roll my eyes and shoulder past him. “Your present is me not breaking your nose in front of your mother. Move.”
We step into the house, and the smell hits me immediately. It’s rosemary, roasted meat, and something sweet that I can’t quite name. It smells like home.
As we enter the dining room, Angel let’s out a soft gasp, her eyes widening. Grace is standing by the table, helping Kasia set out the silverware. But it’s not just Grace. She’s wearing a property cut. And the name on the back, etched in the club’s signature font, says Property of Shade.
“Grace!” Angel exclaims, rushing over. “What—”
Grace grins, her face flushing with a mix of pride and shyness. “Kayden asked me last night. I figured it was time to make it official.”
Shade wanders in behind us, sliding an arm around Grace’s waist and pulling her back against his chest. It’s a rare sight—Shade being anything other than a sarcastic prick—but the way he holds her tells me he’s just as gone for her as I am for Angel.
Kasia emerges from the kitchen, her face glowing. She’s a whirlwind of energy, carrying a platter of food that looks like it could feed the entire club. She spots me and immediately beams, ignoring my size and the scars on my face as she pulls me into a one-armed hug.
“Ghost! So good to see you,” she says, her accent thick and warm. She takes the flowers from me with a delighted hum. “Lilies. My favorite. You are a good man.”
“Hmm,” Doc’s voice rumbles from the head of the table.
He’s sitting there, watching the chaos with a reserved expression. I walk over and set the bottle of high-end bourbon in front of him. He eyes the label, then looks up at me. For a second, the tension from the clubhouse lingers, but then he gives a short, sharp nod.
“Sit,” Doc commands. “The food is getting cold.”
I’ve never seen a table like this. It’s a feast.
Pierogi, roasted chicken, bowls of mashed potatoes, grilled vegetables, and bread that looks like it was baked an hour ago.
I sit down next to Angel, my eyes wide. I spent my childhood eating out of cans or whatever I could scavenge after dumpster diving. This isn’t just a meal; it’s an event.
I look at Angel, who is already digging into the potatoes, and a strange, tight feeling settles in my chest.
This is how she grew up. This warmth, this abundance.
And knowing that our kids will grow up like this, never knowing the hunger I felt, makes the nervousness vanish.
It’s replaced by a fierce, quiet resolve.
Doc clears his throat, and the room goes silent. He looks around the table, his gaze lingering on Kasia, then Shade and Grace, and finally on Angel and me.
“I’m a man of few words, as you all know,” Doc says, his voice gravelly but sincere.
“But I’m grateful to have my family around this table. It’s been a long year. A lot of blood has been spilled, and a lot of sleep has been lost. But we’re here.”
He looks directly at me, then at Grace. “I want to officially welcome Ghost and Grace into this family. This house is yours too now.”
I feel Angel’s hand find mine under the table, squeezing tight. I squeeze back, unable to find the words.
The conversation flows easily after that. It’s light, filled with the kind of comfortable bickering that only comes from years of knowing each other’s buttons. Angel starts telling Kasia about the architect we met with, her hands moving excitedly as she describes the farmhouse we’re building.
“Construction should start in a couple of months,” I add, feeling a swell of pride. “Angel’s designing the whole thing. I’m just the muscle.”
“It’s going to be beautiful,” Angel says, leaning her head on my shoulder for a second.
Grace grins from across the table. “Kayden and I are staying at my apartment in the city. It makes the most sense financially while I finish my degree. Plus,” she nudges Shade, “it’s closer to the clubhouse.”
By the end of the night, the whiskey bottle is half-empty, and I feel a warmth that has nothing to do with the alcohol. I feel giddy—a word I’d never otherwise use to describe myself—but there’s no other way to put it. I feel light.
Grace and Shade head out first, mentioning they have to stop by Grace’s dads’ place. The house quietens down as Kasia starts clearing the table, refusing to let Angel help.
“Go, go,” Kasia shushes her. “Enjoy your husband. I have this.”
Angel heads toward the bathroom to freshen up before we leave, leaving me alone in the dining room with Doc. He’s leaning back in his chair, swirling the last of the bourbon in his glass. The air shifts.
He stands up and jerks his chin toward the kitchen, away from Kasia’s hearing. I follow him. He corners me near the back door, his eyes narrowing.
“You know the drill, Ghost,” Doc says, his voice dropping to that lethal, protective whisper. “You hurt her, you break that heart of hers, and I’ll carve you up in ways you can’t imagine.”
I look him straight in the eye. I don’t flinch. “I hope you know by now, Doc... I’d rather die than hurt her. I’d take a bullet, a blade, or a life sentence before I let a single tear fall from her eyes because of me.”
Doc stares at me for a long beat, searching for a lie. He doesn’t find one. He lets out a long, heavy sigh, the tension leaving his shoulders. “I know. I know you would.”
There’s a question that’s been burning in the back of my mind since we got back from London. I’ve been chewing on it, wondering if it’s my place to ask, but with the whiskey buzzing in my blood, I can’t stop it.
“Doc,” I say, leaning against the counter. “I have to ask. Why was it so hard for you to accept me? I was there when you claimed Kasia. There’s twenty years between you two, and when you made her yours, the club didn’t say a word. Everyone accepted it. Why couldn’t you give me the same grace?”
Doc looks down at his glass, his expression darkening. He’s silent for so long I think he isn’t going to answer.
“It wasn’t the age,” he finally says, looking up. “I don’t give a damn about the years. I know you’re a good man for the club. But I’ve seen first hand how you treated the girls in Onyx.”
My heart sinks.
“I saw the marks,” Doc continues, his voice hard. “The knife, the gun. The way you liked to walk that edge between pleasure and pain. And as a father... I couldn’t stomach the thought of you bringing that darkness to my daughter. I didn’t want her to be just another one of your.. scenes.”
The silence that follows is deafening. I don’t know what to say. He’s not wrong about my past—I lived for the edge. It was the only way I knew how to feel anything. But Angel... Angel changed the gravity of my world.
Before I can even attempt an explanation, the sound of footsteps approaches. Angel appears in the doorway, her eyes narrowing as she looks between us. She can clearly feel the shift in the atmosphere.
“Dad?” she asks, her voice wary. “I hope you aren’t giving him a hard time.”
I react instantly. I step toward her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her flush against my side. I lean down and press a lingering kiss to her temple, the scent of her perfume clearing the heavy air in my lungs.
“It’s all good, baby,” I say, my voice steady as I look back at Doc. “Just finishing the whiskey and talking shop.”
Doc looks at us—at the way I’m holding her like she’s the air I breathe, and the way she leans into me like I’m her entire world. He gives a small, almost imperceptible nod.
We walk out to the bike, the cool night air hitting my face.
As I swing my leg over the Harley and Angel climbs on behind me, locking her arms around my waist, I realize that Doc’s fear is my greatest motivation.
He’s right—I have a darkness in me. But as we pull away from the curb, I know that as long as I have Angel, that darkness will only ever be used to keep her in the light.