Chapter 30
Kit
"Can we sit out here?" I asked Dad as we pulled into the parking lot of the clubhouse.
"Of course, Darlin'," Dad replied. "Wherever you want."
The sun was beating down on us as we walked over to the picnic tables and sat down.
I could feel my father's eyes on me, but he didn't say anything, he just walked at my pace and held my arm as I sank down onto the bench.
The pain meds the doctor gave me were the only reason I was making it through all this.
Even with them my stomach was killing me.
Dad sat down next to me and I leaned on his steady shoulder. It was so good to be back with him. He'd been in Europe for years, working as a consultant for some big oil company. Having him here now was helping in a way I couldn't verbalize.
"I'm so sorry to pull you away from your vacation" I told him again.
"You don't have to apologize, Kit. You did nothing wrong." He rubbed my back as I sniffed back tears. "I'm just glad you're okay." He looked down at me. "You are okay, right?"
I shook my head, swallowing back tears. He knew about my injury, but he didn't know the whole story. "No," I whispered.
He pulled me closer and I rested my head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around me. "Tell me what's going on, Darlin'."
"It's all such a mess," I said with a sigh.
Dad had stuck around while Lockout took over the club since Smoke and I stayed on.
It wasn't until everything was settled that he decided to move overseas, so he was considered part of our inner sanctum.
We could tell him anything we wanted about what was going on with the club.
Lock trusted him as much as we did and Dad would never tell anyone anything about the club.
We all knew it. So, I told him about The Italians.
About Hell going missing. About Pixie and what I did.
"Sounds to me like you did what you needed to, Kit," he replied once I fell silent. "What other option did you have?"
"None. That's why I'll get over killing her. I'll be able to move on and live my life. But-" I broke off, trying to figure out how to voice my next worry to him.
"You're afraid your young man won't forgive you."
My eyes closed of their own volition. Dad always seemed to understand somehow. "He says exactly what everyone else has been saying. That it wasn't my fault. I had no choice, but...I'm scared he's going to change his mind."
"About what?" he asked, confused.
"About being okay with the fact that his old lady killed a member of his family. I wouldn't be able to forgive him if he killed you, or Smoke."
"Could you forgive him if he killed your mother?"
I froze at the question. "I-" He'd thrown me for a loop.
"Not a fair comparison because kids will always love their parents, even when we fuck up," Dad said with a sigh. "I was just trying to point out that Pixie doesn't mean shit to Hellfire. Right?"
"He protected her for his Uncle's sake," I agreed. "He never really liked her. And over the years I'm sure his dislike turned to hatred considering everything she put him through."
"So why would he choose loyalty to her over you?" I glanced over and found him watching me with understanding and compassion. "Part of the problem is the dumbass hasn't told you any of this. Have you told him your fears?"
"We've only been dating a little over a month," I explained. "I'm still trying to figure out how to talk to him."
"Bullshit. You're evading."
I laughed softly, a twinge in my stomach from the movement causing me to gasp halfway through. "Don't make me laugh. It hurts."
"You should go get some rest."
"Soon," I promised him.
"Then I guess we'll finish this conversation." I groaned, but he didn't let that deter him. "You've been friends with Hellfire long enough that you know exactly what he's about. You're just too much in your head."
"I'm terrified to lose him," I admitted.
"When did my daughter become a wimp?" Dad wondered out loud.
This time my gasp had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with outrage. "Wimp?"
"Mmmhmmm. Afraid to talk to her man. Afraid to tell her dad who she's dating..."
"I wasn't afraid to tell you," I denied, sitting straight and smacking his shoulder. "I've been busy. I’ve had a knife in my gut."
"Too busy to call your dad. I get it." He shot me a lopsided grin. “Like we all haven’t had a knife in our gut at some point.”
"I've missed you so much, Dad."
"I've missed you too, Darlin'." He stood and held out his hand. "Why don't we go get you settled upstairs? If you get any more pale you're going to make people think you're a ghost."
Standing, I linked my fingers with his and let him take me upstairs. I bypassed Hellfire's apartment and went straight to my own. It didn't matter that I hadn't been staying in here since Hell and I started dating, with Dad here, I wasn't sure Hell would want us both staying at his place.
"You know what sucks?" I asked as Dad pulled back the covers on my bed.
"What's that?" he asked as he helped me into bed.
"You're going to leave again and I'm not going to have anyone to talk to about this stuff."
He chuckled. "You've got friends downstairs, Darlin'. You don't need an old man like me."
"I'll always need you, Dad." He leaned down and hugged me and I inhaled the smell of cigars and peppermint.
Those scents combined would always remind me of the first man I ever loved.
The man who showed me exactly how someone should treat me.
Who showed me that a gruff exterior and a soft heart was the only type I'd ever look for in my future husband.
"I'll be around for a while," Dad told me. "Don't you worry about that."
"What about Candy?" I asked, referring to his girlfriend.
"She'll be there when I get back home. Who knows, maybe I'll fly her out so you and Smoke can finally meet her in person."
"I'd really like that." It didn't matter to me that Candy was a year younger than I was. She was good for my dad and she actually loved him. He deserved all the happiness in the world after what our mother had done to him.
"Sleep, Darlin'. We'll talk more once you wake up."
* * *
I only slept for a few hours, but by the time I woke up I was feeling a lot better. Padding out of my bedroom in my pajamas, which I'd changed into once Dad had left the room, I looked around. "Dad?" The silence greeted me. Frowning, I slid my feet into a pair of slip-ons and headed downstairs.
The clubhouse was eerily quiet, but I found Butcher sitting downstairs at one of the tables. He looked up and relief washed over his face. "Hey."
"Hi, Butcher," I told him as I came down the stairs.
He got up and shocked me by pulling me into a hug. He wasn't usually the demonstrative type. "Sorry I didn't come see you in the hospital," he said, looking sheepish as we broke apart and sat down at his table. "I offered to help clean up and watch over this place."
"That's okay. I know you guys have been really busy."
"How you feeling?"
I shrugged. "Healing," I replied, looking away from his probing gaze. "I hear I have you to thank for helping Hellfire?"
He snorted in amusement. "Not sure who helped who. Didn't want him to end up in that place with me, but once he was there, I was glad for it. Though, I wish it hadn't resulted in what happened with you and Pixie." He gave me an apologetic look. As if he had anything to feel sorry about.
I studied him for a few moments in silence before working up the courage to ask him what I needed to. It had been my plan to track him down in a couple days, but the opportunity had presented itself. "How do you do it?"
His brows shot up as he leaned back in his chair. "Do what?"
"How do you deal with the fact that you've killed people?" I bit my lip, but continued when he didn't answer right away. "It sounds weird, but...I watched the life drain out of her eyes," I whispered. "I see it in my dreams. I need to know how to put that aside. To act like it doesn't matter."
"That's all it would be," he said with a shrug.
"An act. I was born fucked up, Kit. Killing never bothered me.
" He shifted in his seat as though he was uncomfortable talking about it.
He probably was. I wasn't sure he spoke to anyone like this.
"Seeing them in your dreams? It's the price you pay for taking a life. "
"You see them too?"
He nods, a quick sharp movement of acknowledgement. "For someone like you, it'll be a reminder for the rest of your life."
"How do I stop feeling like this?" I asked.
He shrugged again. "Time. Eventually, the guilt will fade. It'll always be there in the background, like a TV playing, but it'll be on mute. You know?"
"That's how it happens for you?"
"Not exactly. It's always on mute for me." He gave me a lopsided grin. "But that's because I don't give a shit."
I smiled at him. "Thank you," I said, reaching out to squeeze his arm in gratitude.
He nodded and we sat there for a while in silence. I was considering everything he told me and I hoped he was right. If one day the pangs of guilt and shame would fade into the background, I could figure out how to live with what I’d done.
The front door opened and Dad walked through with bags of groceries. He eyed us as he came and sat down next to us, setting the groceries on the floor. “You hungry?” he asked.
“Starving,” Butcher replied.
“I was talking to my daughter,” he muttered, but he pulled a pizza box out of one of the bags and set it in the middle of the table. It was from the place we’d been going to since Smoke and I were kids.
“What kind of freak puts a pizza into a sack and carries it on its side?” Butcher asked with disgust. “The cheese is going to be all over the box.” He flipped open the lid. “See! You ruined those slices.” He waved at the slices that were a little smooshed at the end.
“Then those can be yours,” Dad replied with a grin. He grabbed a slice and shoved half of it into his mouth.
“I’ll do you a favor and eat them all. Can’t have civilized people eating cheeseless pizza,” Butcher grunted, shoving a slice in his mouth.
Laughing at their antics, I took my own piece and nibbled at it.
I still wasn’t eating much and had only graduated to solids in the last day or so.
I listened as Butcher and Dad argued back and forth.
The sounds, strangely enough, lightened my heart.
There was nothing like being around family and soaking in all the love.
I knew without anyone needing to tell me that this was the first step in my journey toward healing.