38. You Have My Blessing to Love My Daughter
You Have My Blessing to Love My Daughter
Arlo
‘S o, y’all have fun up at the cabin?’ Lynnie asks while I whisk up some dressing, and she chops a salad.
On my way back from the bathroom, I couldn’t resist heading into her kitchen to see what she was cooking and if I could help. She’s so warm and welcoming. I pretended I wasn’t nervous coming here today, but I was. I’ve never been a guy who was taken home to meet Mom before, and I want her to like me. Once this shit is over with Nolan, me and Bree need to figure out a way forward, but I know I want to be with her, so that means her family is going to know the truth. Bree won’t keep it all from them forever, so I want to start out on the right foot.
‘Yeah, it’s great up there.’
‘It is. We spent a lot of time up at the lake when they were kids, and they all still love it up there now.’ She dumps the chopped leaves into a large bowl and starts on the tomatoes.
‘Yeah.’ I can’t help but smile at the memory of the peaceful expression on Bree’s face when we arrived there. ‘Bree was happy to be there.’
‘You know, I’ve never really seen her with anybody.’ She moves on to start seasoning some chicken, and I start to heat a skillet. ‘She’s dated . God has that girl dated.’ She shakes her head, chuckling, and I try to ignore the jealous twist in my stomach. ‘But this whole shutting herself away and disappearing to a cabin for a few days with somebody, that’s new.’
‘I wasn’t trying to keep her from y’all,’ I promise. ‘I guess we just were enjoying each other’s company.’
‘I know. My daughter does nothing she doesn’t want to do.’
Smiling at that, I add some oil to the skillet and take the bowl of seasoned chicken she offers.
‘So, I have to ask.’ I glance at Lynnie as the first chicken breast starts to sizzle in the pan. ‘Do I have anything I need to worry about because my husband had a tattoo that matched that one?’ She points to the club insignia on my forearm, and I drop my eyes to it, my stomach sinking. I’m not ashamed of my life. How can I be? But I want Lynnie to like me, to believe I’m great for Bree.
‘I’m not a part of the club anymore.’
‘So, they didn’t send you to keep an eye on us?’
I meet her gaze, and I feel my brows knit together at the expression in her eyes, worry and maybe fear, and I have an overwhelming urge to reassure this warm woman.
‘I left the club twelve years ago, and I won’t insult your intelligence by telling you I don’t know who your husband was or about the deal he made with the club, but I’m not a part of that. I’m here for the quiet life, and I’m dating Bree because she’s pretty damn perfect.’
Lynnie takes a deep breath and then flattens her hand over the tattoo.
‘Please don’t hurt her.’
‘I have no intention of hurting her, Lynnie.’
She squeezes my arm lightly and nods like she understands. She knows the depth of my feelings for her daughter and accepts it as truth without further question.
The Campbells continue to astound me. Their ability to accept, to forgive, it’s like nothing I’ve ever known, and with a fresh perspective on the past, as I cook the chicken and enjoy the calm quiet that’s descended between Lynnie and me, I remember the other Campbell who offered me acceptance and forgiveness. If only I had taken it.
Nineteen Years Ago
‘L ights out.’
Those words. I would never get used to hearing them. Four months in, years to go, and I wondered if I’d ever get used to my life not being my own anymore.
I knew the risks. I grew up in a motorcycle club that always had one wheel over the line of the law, so I’d seen men I had known my whole life locked up and worse over the years, but somehow, I never thought I’d be one of them.
I was invincible. That’s how I felt until I met her.
Everything changed the moment I laid eyes on Bree Campbell. Suddenly, I wanted a different life. I wanted a house, a yard, and a ring on my finger, and I wanted to stay alive. For her, I wanted to stick around, and for the first time, I realized the risks my life held.
I was protected in the club, mostly, my dad made sure of that. I had to earn my stripes and the jobs I did before my stint in the van were basically my training course, my college wasn't dorm rooms and lecture halls, it was practicing shooting a moving target, one that had a pulse and had pissed off the club in some way. I got pulled into stuff that would give most eighteen year olds nightmares, and I learned from the best, because my dad, was the best, but that was just my initiation. All of that was my dad wanting to make sure I'd be safe and could take care of myself if he wasn't around.
When I was given the job of watching Mrs. C, I knew it was to keep me away from that other stuff, but once I rolled in there telling them I wanted out, I knew what had to happen. I had to do something with some risk attached. I had to earn my way out.
For her, the risk was worth it—for a life with her.
I closed my eyes in the dark, and the sounds tortured me: the whir of the air conditioning, the drip, drip, drip of the water against the metal basin, the distant commotion of prisoners protesting their bedtime, the creaks and groans of this old building and the heavy booted footsteps of the guards.
She betrayed me. I wanted to give her the world, and she took mine away.
I was lucky, I guessed. If I was a regular Joe, being locked up in there for the next decade would have been a battle for survival. I’d have had to find a way to become invisible or a way to make myself seen in the right ways—ways that ensured nobody tried anything. As things were, I didn’t have to worry about much. I was royalty in there. The club pretty much owned the governor, so that protection I got outside, I got inside, too. I had a cell to myself, and the message was loud and clear that nobody fucked with me, but some days I wished they would.
I was angry. Every day, I was angry at her, at my life, at my choices. Viking warned me: stay away from the kid, but I didn’t listen. One look at her and I lost my damn mind, and now she got to go after the life she always wanted. By the time I got out, she’d probably be married with a white picket fence and a couple of dogs, some big city detective somewhere, and I’d be a convicted felon with a chip on his shoulder and nothing much going for him.
Closing my eyes, I pushed out my resentment and tried to ignore the way my muscles ached against the paper-thin mattress beneath me. Another night in a shitty bed, that was all I’d ever known, and I accepted in that moment that my life was laid out for me now. It was stupid of me to dare to dream of more.
‘Y ou look just like your father.’
The man sitting opposite me said, and I smiled just a little.
‘You look just like your mom.’
He laughed and nodded, knowing I was telling the truth. Miles Campbell had his mama’s features hidden behind a thick beard, and my heart beat fast in my chest, wondering why he was visiting me in prison.
His elbows came to rest on the table as his fingers intertwined, and he took a deep inhale, then blew it out.
‘It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you. I can’t quite put together the toddler I used to carry on my shoulders with you, a fully grown man.’ He shook his head.
‘All due respect, Miles, and not to be rude at all, but why are you here?’
‘Do you want kids, Arlo?’ he asked, and I shook my head, no. ‘Yeah, I thought that once upon a time too. It might change, maybe not.’ He shrugs and leans back in his seat. ‘I have three: a son, Doug, and my two girls, Zoe, and, well, you know Bree.’
I pressed my lips together at the sound of her name, and he continued.
‘Doug and Zoe, they’re the sensitive ones, the ones led by their emotions. Bree,’ he smiled, ‘she’s the methodical one, the calm, collected one.’ Chuckling, he shook his head. ‘Don’t get me wrong, she has a temper on her, and she’s as stubborn as me, but that girl, she’s strong, unafraid.’
‘Look,’ I tried to interrupt, but he went on.
‘The thing is, Arlo, when it’s Bree crying herself to sleep every night, it gets my attention because that’s not like her.’
‘I don’t know what she said…’
‘Nothing,’ he shrugged again, ‘she said nothing, but she came back from a summer at her grandmother’s house with red-ringed eyes and shut herself away from us, and I know my daughter, so I knew something was wrong. I asked my mom what I missed, and she told me she was pretty sure my baby had suffered her first heartbreak.’
‘You don’t…’ I shook my head. ‘It’s not like that.’
‘I’m sure it’s not.’ Leaning forward once more, he placed his arms on the table, and my eyes dropped to the tattoo, the one that matched mine, the Bone Roses insignia that we always carry with us, stating our affiliations, even though we both bought a way out. ‘When I met Bree’s mother, I loved her right away. That’s why I left the club. I knew that life wasn’t for her, but even then, I always worried that a man like me, carrying the things I’d done, could never be enough—be right for her. Her father made it plain as day he thought I wasn’t, but I loved her with every goddam beat of my heart, and I still do to this day.’
He smiled slightly, and I saw the love.
‘Now, my daughters are eighteen. One of them went off and got herself married, and the other one seems resolved now to be alone, and to go after her career like it’s the only thing that matters, and that’s her choice. As much as I might hate it, that’s both their choice, but what I do have a say in is how I act.’
He held my attention once more, and I huffed out a breath.
‘What Bree does has nothing to do with me,’ I said, making him nod.
‘Maybe not, but I have a feeling you’re not only the reason for those tears she shed when she came home but also for her turnaround these past couple of months, and I need to say something to you.’
Here it was.
‘My father-in-law hated me, Arlo. He thought I was a waste of space, sure I would be a deadbeat dad, that I would treat my wife badly because of who I was and the life I led before I got her pregnant.’ He smirked. ‘The fact I got her pregnant at seventeen didn’t help, I guess, but the point is, my life before Lynnie had no bearing on the way I felt for her and the life I wanted to give her and our children. I was willing to do what I had to do to leave the club, and I was willing to put in the work to show her what she meant to me. I don’t need to know what happened between you and Bree. It’s not my business, and I trust my daughter to make good choices because that’s who she was raised to be, but what I need to say is something I wish my father-in-law would have said to me, but he never did, not once even until the day he died. You have my blessing to love my daughter, Arlo: who you are, where you are, doesn’t change that. If you’re pushing her away because you’re behind these bars, I understand that, but be honest with her and let it be her choice whether or not she wants to stick around.’
Fuck. I was not expecting that. It wasn’t the reason. I wasn’t pushing her away because I loved her. I was pushing her away because she betrayed me, but instead of telling him that I said something even I wasn’t expecting.
‘You’re telling me you’d be happy with your eighteen-year-old daughter wasting years of her life and her dream career waiting for a man who will come out of here just as worthless as he came in?’
‘I know your father. I knew your mother and your grandfather, and all of them had their demons, the things the world side-eyed and frowned upon them for. Not a single one of them was worthless, and nor are you. Do I want her throwing her dreams away? No. Do I want her waiting years for you to get out of here? Fuck no, but I also want her to have what I have, to feel how magical it is to have your soulmate by your side, so if that’s you, Arlo, I want her to have the chance to make that choice, not have it taken from her.’
'She's going to be a cop.' I said, my eyes on the table instead of the man in front of me.
'Yeah, that's the dream.' His tattooed fingers drummed on the table, just once.
'The things I've seen and done, don't really lend themselves to being with a cop.'
'Yeah,' I lifted my gaze to his as those hands pressed into the table and he pushed himself up to stand, taking my attention with him as he stood and smiled lightly. 'I used to think the same thing, that the things I'd seen and done in the club would mean I'd never be good enough for my wife, for that small town life she treasured, for my kids,' his eyebrows lifted to drive home the point, and I lowered my eyes once more to my own hands on the cool surface of the table in front of me. 'But your dad talked some sense into me, and I'll give you the advice he gave to me. If you love her, lay it all out, let her choose what's right for her.'
Meeting his gaze one last time I nodded, then he turned and walked away, and I considered his words, then I pushed them away. I did love her, but she made her choice, and it wasn't me.