“Not really. All she ever really said was that you guys got married at nineteen and had me ten months later. I tried to ask her stuff, but she always got sad whenever I mentioned you, so eventually I kinda stopped asking.”
I smiled as the memories came back. “I’d always seen your mum around school. She was the chick who used to tell teachers to fuck off, the girl who smoked down the back of the school, the one who the boys all wanted a shot at. She never looked twice at me until the day I involved myself in an argument she was having with one of the school bullies. She’d stood up for the kid he was roughing up. I knew she didn’t have a chance in hell of winning against him, so I stepped in and helped. Of course, that pissed her off, that I took over, but she at least knew my name after that.”
Charlie had stopped eating, too, and rested her elbows on the counter, chin in hands. She appeared to be enjoying this conversation. “You beat that bully up, didn’t you?”
I chuckled. “Not fully, but I had to show him that messing with Tenille was a bad idea.”
“So how long after that did you two get together?”
“She kept me hanging for a good month or so. Your mother was smart. By the time she finally said yes to a date with me, I was like a fucking puppy following her everywhere.”
“I can’t even imagine that about you.”
“Oh, you better fucking believe it. Tenille fucking owned me.”
She pushed off the counter and sat ramrod straight on her stool. “How could you leave her, then?” The question fell from her lips softly, almost as if she was scared to ask it.
This was the question I’d prepared for over the years. I’d lain awake countless nights unable to sleep, imagining having Charlie back in my life. I’d pictured our reunion, and this question had played in my mind like a broken record. But sitting face-to-face with my daughter and trying to express my reasons was far different from doing it in my mind.
“I’m not sure you’ll ever be able to understand this, but I did it to protect you both. I got myself into some bad shit and threats were made against our family.” I didn’t want to get into too many of the details with her. Hell, I didn’t want her to know that this shit went on in the world, but I had to give her something to help her grasp it.
She sat in silence, and I held my breath waiting for her response. Finally, she ran her fingers through her hair and said, “You’re right. I’m not sure I’ll ever understand that. Mostly because—does that stuff really happen in real life or just in the movies? But, I know you’re a biker, and I’m not clueless, so I know you’re into bad shit.” She paused. “I still don’t get how you could leave Mum if she owned you, though. And you left me, too.” Her voice wobbled on that last bit, fucking slaying me.
“Fuck, Charlie, adult shit doesn’t make sense half the fucking time. When you love someone the way I love you guys, you do anything to keep them safe. I’d rather you both be sad than dead.” When she didn’t say anything to that, I added, “I’ll always regret what happened back then. If I could take it all back and be the father you needed while you grew up, I would. But life doesn’t give you a second go at shit, so here we are, stuck with my choices in life. You’ll never know how happy I am to have you in my life again. I just hope you’ll give me a chance to show you that I can be a father.”
“It’s weird for me because I already have a dad.”
She still referred to Craig as Dad, and rationally I understood that, but the possessive side of me fucking hated it. I figured she would always call him that, and I’d always be Aiden to her. I just had to find a way to make peace with that and allow her to have us in her life however she needed. Not how I needed.
I nodded. “I’ll always be grateful to him for what he’s done for you.” That, at least, was true. “But you need to know that I’m not going anywhere. I don’t care how long it takes you to accept me. I won’t be leaving again.”
She took a deep breath and then exhaled. This had to be a lot for her to process. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
She picked up her cutlery. “Yeah, okay, I get it. You’re not gonna stop bossing me around. But just so you know, it’s hard enough having two parents telling me what to do. If I’ve gotta put up with you, too, I’m gonna need something in return. Like balayage or some shit.”
“Yeah, good try, sweetheart. You think I don’t value my balls? Your mother would fucking kill me if I paid for that.”
“Ugh. Well, you’re gonna have to come up with something. I’m not down with having three of you all over my shit unless I get stuff out of it.”
My kid was the fucking shit. I couldn’t have asked for a better one.
“What the fuck is balayage anyway? It’s a weird fucking name to call a hair colour.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “Oh, Aiden, you have so much to learn.”
Chapter 29
Hyde
I arrived at the club an hour later with the intent to talk King out of the plan he had for the day. Turned out his plan had already been altered. In a way none of us saw coming.
Marx had stumbled into the clubhouse an hour or so before me, almost unconscious. He’d taken a severe beating before he arrived and had lost consciousness soon after arriving. Our doctor was with him while King paced his office.
“Did you get anything out of him before he passed out?” I asked.
“No. He was delirious and raving about wanting to die. Nothing I said seemed to get through. The only thing I made out was that he was Marx.”
“You think that whoever did this to him is the guy he’s been working for?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me, brother.”
“Where does this leave us today?”
King stopped pacing. “I’m putting everything on hold until I can get Marx to talk.” His phone rang, and after checking caller ID, he said, “What’s up, Kick?”
From what I could follow, Kick was at the hospital with Evie, and it didn’t sound good. King confirmed this when the call ended. “Evie’s blood pressure has gone through the roof, so the doctors are considering delivering the baby today. He’s staying with her.”
“I’ll drop by and check in with him later.”
“Thanks.” His voice was tight. I knew he’d prefer Kick on deck, but King would never ask that of him in this situation. It was one of the things I respected the most about King—he always put family first.
The doctor knocked on the office door, and King motioned for him to enter. Closing the door behind him, he said, “Your guy took a bad beating, but he’s only suffering from broken ribs and a broken nose. He’s in a great deal of pain, though, so I’ve given him something for that. If you want to talk to him, now’s your chance, because he’ll sleep most of the day with those drugs.”
King nodded. “Thanks, Doc.”
Not wasting a second, King and I made our way to where Marx rested. His swollen eyes came to us, and he grimaced in pain.
“You able to fucking talk now?” King demanded.
Marx’s face was a wreck of bruises, cuts, and dried blood. His body didn’t look much better. I took some fucking delight in that.