22. Tank
TANK
The clubhouse feels different when I walk in. Or maybe I'm different. It’s hard to tell.
It’s been three days since I properly set foot in here. Three days of being completely engrossed in Enya and Warren, not to mention learning way too many facts about dinosaurs. It’s been fucking bliss and I wouldn’t change it for the world.
But I'm still a brother. I’m still part of this club. I can’t just disappear, even if part of me wants to stay in that small flat forever.
Pyro spots me first and nods toward the back room. "Tank. Got a minute?"
Not a request. It never is with Pyro.
"Yeah. Course."
I follow behind him and note that Preacher and Raptor are already there, sitting around a table.
Two beers already opened and another two unopened.
They’ve been waiting for me. This is an intervention.
Or close to it. I sit down opposite Pyro, accept the beer Raptor pushes toward me, and wait for whatever the hell this is to get started and finished.
Pyro leans back as he studies me. "You look different,” he says with a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Do I?"
He nods as he reaches for his own beer. ”Yeah. Calmer, more focused, less like you're about to punch someone for breathing wrong."
Raptor snorts. "That's one way to put it."
"What Pyro's trying to say," Preacher adds, "is you look like a man who's got something to lose now. Something worth protecting."
I take a drink. I don’t deny it. There’s no point. These men would see through the lie. "Yeah. I do."
"Good," Pyro says. "That's good. But it changes things."
"I know."
"Do you?" He leans forward. "Because family changes everything, Tank. Changes how you think. How you operate. What risks you're willing to take."
"I'm still a brother."
"Never said you weren't. But you're also a man with a woman and a kid now. Can't pretend that doesn't matter."
"I'm not pretending anything."
"Then talk to us. Tell us what's going on in your head."
I'm quiet for a moment, trying to find words for the mess inside me.
"It's overwhelming," I say finally. "Balancing the club, and Enya and Warren. Trying to be what they need while still being who I am."
"Who you are is a protector," Preacher says. "Always have been. It’s just now you've got specific people to protect instead of just the abstract idea of it."
"What if I fuck it up? What if I'm too violent? Too damaged? What if Warren grows up and realizes—"
"Realizes what?" Raptor cuts in. "That you're human? That you did what needed doing to keep his mam safe?"
"That I killed his dad."
"For the right reasons," Pyro says firmly. "There's a difference. And when he's old enough to understand that, he will."
"You don't know that."
"No. But I know you. And I know you're not going to let that kid grow up thinking violence is the answer to everything. You're going to teach him better."
"How? I don't know how to be a father. A role model. I don't know how to be soft enough for a five-year-old and still be myself."
"You learn," Preacher says. "Same way the rest of us did. Same way Cowboy's learning with Saoirse. You figure it out as you go."
"What if I can't?"
"Then you ask for help," Raptor says. "That's what brothers are for."
I stare into my beer, throat tight.
"Listen," Pyro says. "Enya and Warren are club family now, which means they're protected. Which means you're not doing this alone. You've got all of us backing you."
"I know. And I'm grateful. But it's still a lot."
"It is," Preacher agrees. "Being a man with a family is the hardest thing you'll ever do. Harder than any fight. Any run. Any club business. Because you can't just fight your way through problems anymore. You have to think. Plan. Be patient."
"And be two people," Pyro adds. "Tank when you need to be. Devin when you need to be."
The name lands strange. No one calls me Devin except Enya and Warren.
"You don't have to choose," Pyro continues. "You just learn when to be which version. When to be the brother who handles threats, and when to be the man who reads bedtime stories."
"It's not that simple."
"No. It's not. But nothing worth doing is simple."
Raptor leans forward. "Look, I'm not gonna bullshit you. You've got priorities now beyond the patch. And that's okay. But you need to be honest about it, with us and with yourself."
"I'm trying."
"I know you are." He pauses. "Just don't lose yourself completely. Don't become so focused on being what they need that you forget who you are. They need Tank too. The protective, fierce, loyal bastard who won't let anyone hurt them. Not just the soft version."
"Balance," Preacher says. "That's the key. Be both. Be all of it."
I nod slowly, processing.
"We're with you," Pyro says. "Whatever you need. Advice. Backup. Someone to watch Warren when you need to handle club business. We're here."
"Thanks."
"That's what brothers do."
We drink in comfortable silence for a while, then Raptor says, "So, when do we get to meet the kid properly?"
"Soon. Once he's more settled. I don't know. Once it feels right."
"Fair enough. It’s just... we're curious. A kid who's got you this twisted up must be something special."
"He is." My chest tightens. "He's... Fuck, he's just a good kid. Deserves better than what he's had."
"And now he's got you," Preacher says. "That's better."
I want to believe him, want to trust that I'm enough.
"Go home," Pyro says. "To your woman and her boy. We'll call if we need you."
"Yeah. Alright."
I finish my beer. Stand. Head for the door.
At the threshold, Pyro calls out. "Tank?"
I turn.
"You're doing good, better than you think. Keep going."
I nod. I can't speak.
Then I'm gone. Back on my bike. Heading to Enya's.
Heading home.
* * *
Enya opens the door before I can knock, like she was waiting. She throws her arms around me and holds tight.
"You alright?" I ask.
"Yeah. Just missed you."
I hold her, breathe her in, let the tension from the clubhouse meeting drain away.
She pulls back and looks at me. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For the locks. The window security. For checking on Erin's place too."
Right. I'd reinforced Enya's locks yesterday. Added extra security to the windows. Then went to her sister's flat and did the same. Just in case. Just to make sure.
"It's nothing."
"It's not nothing. You didn't just protect me. You protected my whole family. My sister and her kids. That means everything."
Her eyes are shining with unshed tears.
"Hey." I cup her face. "Of course I did. They're yours, which means they're mine to protect too."
"I'm still learning what safety feels like," she whispers. "Still getting used to someone caring this much."
"Then we learn together."
She kisses me. Soft. Tender. Full of gratitude and love and everything I don't deserve but am taking anyway.
When she pulls back, she says, "I have to go to work in twenty minutes. Warren's in his room. You okay watching him?"
"Yeah. Course."
"Mam's on call if you need backup. But he'll be fine. He adores you."
"I adore him too."
She smiles. "Good. Because he's been asking for you all morning."
Twenty minutes later, she's gone. And it's just me and Warren.
I find him in his room, building something with blocks. He looks up when I enter. Grins.
"Devin!"
Still gets me. Hearing my actual name. Not Tank. Just Devin.
"Hey, mate. What're you building?"
"A castle. But I need help. Will you help?"
"Yeah. Course."
I sit on the floor. Let him direct. We build towers and walls and a moat made of blue blocks.
After a while, he says, "Can we build a fort?"
"A fort?"
"Yeah. With pillows and blankets. A proper one."
"Alright. Let's do it."
We raid the sitting room, gather every pillow and blanket we can find. I drape blankets over chairs, stack pillows and create walls and a roof.
Warren watches with wide eyes. "You're really good at this."
"Just using what I know about structure."
"What's structure?"
"Making things strong. So they don't fall down."
"Oh. Can you teach me?"
"Yeah. I can teach you."
We work together, making the fort bigger and more elaborate than it needs to be.
By the time we're done, it's honestly impressive. It takes up half the sitting room.
Warren crawls inside. "Come on!"
I follow him inside, barely fitting, but I manage it. We sit cross-legged facing each other, surrounded by pillows and soft light filtering through the blankets.
"This is the best fort ever," Warren declares.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Better than the one Gran made."
"Don't tell her that."
He giggles. "I won't."
I grab some snacks from the kitchen and bring them back. We sit in our fort eating biscuits and crisps and talking.
"Who's your favorite superhero?" Warren asks suddenly.
"Favorite superhero?"
"Yeah. Everyone has one. Mine's Spider-Man. Because he's funny and he helps people."
"Spider-Man's a good choice."
"Who's yours?"
I think. "Maybe Batman."
"Why?"
"Because he's just a man. No powers. Just doing what he can to protect people."
I watch as Warren processes what I’ve just said. "That's like you."
"What?"
"You protect people. Like Batman. But without the cape."
My chest tightens. "I guess so."
"Do you have a Batcave?"
"Sort of. The clubhouse."
"Can I see it someday?"
“Soon maybe."
He seems satisfied with that and goes back to his biscuits.
We sit in comfortable silence for a while.
Then Warren yawns, big, his eyes getting heavy.
"You tired?" I ask.
"A bit."
"Come here."
He crawls over and settles against my side, head on my shoulder. I wrap an arm around him and let him get comfortable.
Within minutes, he's asleep.
And I just sit there, holding this kid, feeling his small body pressed against mine. His trust. His safety.
This is what fatherhood feels like.
This.
My throat burns. Eyes sting.
I didn't know I wanted this. Didn't know I needed it.
But now that I have it, I can't imagine going back.
* * *
Enya comes home to find us still in the fort. Warren asleep on my lap. Me just holding him.
She stops in the doorway, hand over her mouth, eyes shining.
"How long has he been asleep?" she whispers.
“I’m not sure. What time is it?”
“Almost two in the morning. Have you just been sitting here?"
"Didn't want to move him."
She stares at us. At the fort. At her son sleeping peacefully against me.
"I love you," she says quietly.
"I love you too."
"Come on. Let's get him to bed properly."
I shift carefully and lift Warren. He makes a small sound but doesn't wake. Just curls into me.
Enya leads the way to his room. Pulls back the covers. I lay Warren down gently. She tucks him in. Kisses his forehead.
As we turn to leave, Warren mumbles sleepily, "Night, Daddy."
Everything stops.
Enya freezes, hand flying to her mouth, tears spilling immediately.
I can't move. Can't breathe. Can't process.
Daddy.
He called me Daddy.
Warren's already asleep again. He doesn't even know he said it. Just... did.
Enya pulls me out of the room, into the hallway. She's crying. Smiling. Both at once.
"He called you... Did you hear?"
"Yeah. I heard."
"He sees you as his father."
The words hit like a physical blow. In the best way. In the most terrifying way.
"I don't. I'm not. I haven't earned that yet."
"Yes, you have." She holds my face. "You've been more of a father to him in two weeks than Declan ever was in five years. He feels safe with you. Loved by you. Protected by you. That's what matters."
"What if I fuck it up?"
"You won't. And if you do, we'll figure it out. Together."
"He called me Daddy," I say again, like I need to hear it. Need to make it real.
"He did. Because that's what you are now. Whether you're ready or not."
I pull her close. Hold her tight. Let the reality sink in.
I'm not just Tank anymore. Not just a brother. Not just Enya's man.
I'm Warren's father.
The weight of it is enormous. Crushing.
But also right.
"We should go to bed," Enya whispers.
"Yeah. Okay."
We leave Warren's door cracked and move to her room. Climb into bed together.
She curls into my side, head on my chest, hand over my heart.
"Are you okay?" she asks. "With what he said?"
"Terrified. But, yeah, I'm okay. More than okay."
"Good. We're a family now. The three of us."
Family.
The word settles in my chest, heavy and warm and permanent.
"Yeah," I say quietly. "We are."
She kisses my chest. ”I'm glad you're here,” she says on a whisper.
"Me too."
We lie there in the dark, and I think about everything. The club. The violence. The fear.
But also this. The fort building. The superhero talk. The small voice calling me Daddy.
Balance. Like Pyro said.
I can be Tank when needed. And Devin when needed.
Both versions. All of it.
For them.
For this family that's somehow become mine.
I close my eyes, let sleep pull at me.
And for the first time in my life, I'm not just existing.
I'm living.
Really, truly living.
With people who matter. Who need me. Who I'd die for without hesitation.
My family.
Mine.
And that's everything.