“I only reached out to him at first because I wanted to hear his side of the whole Piper thing.
“You know that was all Pops, right?”
“I do. But that doesn’t excuse the part Cruz played in it.”
“No, I know it doesn’t. But it helped me understand. And I like Cruz, Dad. He’s a good guy. He didn’t want to take me to the compound, introduce me to the guys, but I gave him little choice.
“I wanted to know about that side of my life, my family. And in the end, he had no choice but to cave.”
“I can only imagine,” he mutters. “I’m assuming you liked what you found?” he asks almost sadly.
I can’t help but laugh. “They weren’t what I was expecting, that was for sure.”
“In what way?”
“What Gran said in there earlier was true,” I say, nodding toward the kitchen. “They’re a family. Walking into the clubhouse, even that very first time… it kinda felt like going home. It was like finding the family I never knew I had.”
Dad stares at me, an unreadable expression on his face.
“What?” I ask, feeling a little anxious about how he’s going to take all of this.
“Nothing. I just remember that feeling. I remember what it was like growing up in that life where every member of the club was like an aunt and uncle. It was pretty great.”
“Do you miss it?”
He pauses for a few seconds. “Some of it. But I also don’t regret the decision I made to turn my back on it all for you.”
“You never really got that far though, did you? You’ve spent the last few years inking them all,” I point out.
“Maybe walking away was harder than I thought it would be. You’re not wrong about Gran being right. The club runs through all our veins.”
“What are you saying?”
He shrugs.
“I have no idea, Em. All I do know is that when I saw Cruz’s name on my phone, my entire world stopped moving, thinking that something had happened to you.”
“I’m fine,” I assure him.
“I know, but for a few seconds, I thought you weren’t, and I can’t even begin to explain how that felt.”
I pass him the joint back.
“Get high, old man. It’s the only way to handle all this.”
He takes a hit and looks at me as if it’s the first time he’s really seeing me.
“What?”
“You’re married. My baby girl is a wife.”
I scoff. “Hardly.”
“You’re wearing his ring,” he points out, looking down at my hand and the piece of jewellery I haven’t taken off since he gave it to me before the party.
“Because it’s worth like a bazillion quid, and I’m kinda terrified of losing it before I get a chance to give it back.”
“It’s real?” Dad asks, his brows shooting to his hairline.