CHAPTER 11 #2
The laugh that comes out of me is hollow, slightly broken, and devoid of any humor.
There it is.
His real concern.
The real reason he came here.
I swallow down the lump in my throat. I’ve spent a lifetime pushing down my disappointment in this man while justifying all the ways I’ve felt caged by his expectations. All while managing his worry about public opinion. Now I’m done.
I’ve been done.
Maybe I just needed this moment for it to crystalize inside of me and become something stronger.
Titus uncrosses his arms, the movement jerky when I’m used to seeing grace. I don’t have to look at his face to know he’s barely holding back from jumping between me and my dad. The fact that he’s holding back means more to me than I’ll ever be able to say.
This is my fight.
This is my stand.
I’m going to make it.
Still, when he slides one of his hands down my back, the motion a reminder that he’s right here with me along with a plea to use his strength, I soak it up.
Dad doesn’t miss the movement. His eyes narrow and something dark passes over his face.
“Oh,” there’s a cruel twist in his words, “I see what is going on here.” He pauses and my stomach sinks.
Internally, I brace for whatever words are about to fill the space between us and strain the remnants of our relationship.
“I didn’t raise a fucking club whore,” Dad enunciates every word like he believes them.
“Watch yourself,” Titus rumbles the words, the warning clear to hear.
Dad doesn’t flinch.
I’m not sure which has more of an impact on me.
“That’s what you think?” The question is a challenge, and I have no idea how he’ll respond to it.
I would have never imagined that he’d say something so crass to me. So heartless. So fucking vicious.
“You’re the one standing on the other side of this gate, not me,” Dad spits the words and something cracks inside my chest.
The feeling of eyes on me, so many eyes, has my gaze flicking toward Omen and then over my shoulder. Men who wear the Saint’s Outlaws MC patch are standing close enough to hear, but far enough to not be directly involved. It doesn’t quite feel like a wall at my back, but it’s something.
Or maybe this is just a good show.
Come one, come all and watch a daughter’s heart break.
“Just say the word,” Titus’ voice is low, meant only for me, “and I’ll step in.”
I keep my eyes locked on my dad.
“I’m standing on this side of the gate because when I went to you last night, when I went to my dad, the Sheriff of Monroe County, you dismissed me. I was scared,” my voice has an edge to it, pure steel and the flinch he can’t hide proves it.
I don’t stop; I let him hear the pain.
“I needed help, but you basically patted me on the head and told me I was imagining things.” My face screws up and I shake my head, trying not to feel the depth of my disgust because I’m not ready to deal with the hurt that comes along with it.
“Ryker took one look at me and asked me what was going on. He listened instead of dismissing me. Then he took steps to protect me even without all the answers. Just on my fear,” my words are clear and they sound sure.
Something passes over Dad’s face, something like regret, but then it’s gone.
“You were hysterical,” his tone is dismissive but wrapped in a hesitancy I’m not used to hearing in his voice. “I was working.”
“Yes,” I intone, “you were.”
The words hang between us. I understand the implication in them, and I see the exact moment they hit him.
I also see the exact moment he decides it doesn’t change anything.
“I can see you’re emotional, Ezra,” Dad’s voice has dropped into the tone he pulls out when he wants to put me back into my box and no longer is willing to accept anything else. “We can talk about this when you calm down and come to your senses about being here.”
His eyes move over me, the gate, the clubhouse behind me and probably the brothers too. Internally, I shatter.
My jaw clenches and while my mind should probably be racing, it’s empty. I have nothing to say to him. There’s no reason to defend myself. Not now.
As he climbs back into his sheriff vehicle, my lips part, but I have no words. My eyes sting as tears fill them. I don’t want them to fall. I can’t let them fall.
I’m being pulled into the hard chest of my biker and when I take a breath it’s filled with his spruce and cinnamon scent. His large hand cups the back of my head and my body shudders as I suppress the rising tide of my emotions.
At least I try to.
“I’ve got you, Teach,” he murmurs, his arms tightening around me until I feel almost put back together again.
“Did he really just say all that to me? Call me a club whore? Dismiss me as too emotional?” My words are baffled and muffled against his shirt.
My fingers grip the edge of his cut; the leather is warm under my skin.
“He did,” he says, but it’s obvious that admitting it out loud brings him no joy.
Even though his vehicle is long gone, I still peek back to where it was just parked. Then I look over Titus’ large shoulder and take in the concerned faces there. Opal is practically wringing her hands together and the sadness in Graycie’s eyes is palpable.
At least I don’t see pity there.
“Come on, Teach,” Titus murmurs, his lips grazing my temple. “Let’s eat dinner with our family.”
“Family,” I barely choke out the word, feeling the weight of it wrap around me in a new way.
He doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t need to. He simply nods and leads me back toward the clubhouse entrance. When I’m close enough, Opal is there to pull me into a hug.
“He’s a dick,” she whispers. “We’ve got you.”
I squeeze her a little tighter and let the truth slip free, “I know.”
When I let her go, Titus is right there. He studies my face, looking me over and ensuring I’m okay. I’m not, but I’m starting to think that I will be.
And I don’t just mean in terms of getting to the bottom of the whole carnie and Bobby situation.