She stared at me in stunned silence.

I drank some more coffee and barked, “What?” Jesus, I swore if she kept pushing me, testing me, I really would lose my shit. It had been a rough night of little sleep after I’d left Tatum’s and I didn’t have the patience I usually did with her.

“That is maybe one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me.” Her voice cracked and it looked like tears were pooling in her eyes. “I’m sorry I said that thing about you not being my dad. You mightn’t be my father but you practically raised me and I love you for it.” She broke down at that point, confusing the hell out of me. Where had that come from? Renee wasn’t one to cry easily.

I pulled her into my arms. “Fuck, kiddo, I know.” I was fucking useless when it came to this shit. It was a good thing I had no kids of my own because I’d fail them when it came to dealing with emotions. When she moved out of my embrace, I said, “What’s going on, Renee?”

She wiped the tears from her face. “Nothing. I’m just being stupid.”

When she tried to walk away, I grabbed her arm. “Don’t ever say that. You’re not stupid and nothing you feel is stupid.” I hated her reluctance to open up, but I hated more that Marilyn and I had taught her that. Because we had. Kids learnt from example. I knew that better than anyone, and the example we’d set was to shut down and avoid feelings.

Tears tracked down her cheeks again. Blinking through them and sniffling, she managed to get out, “It’s everything. Mum, life, your club, Dustin… it’s too much. I don’t know how to deal with it anymore.”

Fuck.

I scrubbed my hand over my face. Her words hit me in the gut. They rang true for me, too. Our fucked-up family and my club problems weighed me down like a tonne of bricks on my shoulders most days. The last few weeks had been a reprieve almost. The weight had felt bearable for some reason, but the heaviness had returned overnight. It caused my mood that morning and my lack of patience with Renee.

“I’m going to fix this, Renee.”

She stared at me as if she didn’t quite believe me. However, she nodded and said softly, “I hope so.”

It was the quiet desperation I heard in her voice that made me swear to myself that I would make good on my promise. No fucking way would I chance Renee living in the same darkness her mother did.

 

 

26

 

 

Tatum

 

 

“Scars” by Papa Roach

 

I exited the car park and headed towards the front door of the club. The warmth of the late September day spread across my back as I walked and inhaled the spring scent I loved. It was my favourite time of year. Right before the heat of summer. It could have been worse, I guessed. I could have lived in Queensland.

“Tatum, wait up,” Posey called out from behind.

I slowed and gave her a smile when she caught up. “Hey, girl, why are you here so early?” She wasn’t due at work for a few more hours.

“I had a hair appointment nearby. Didn’t want to make the drive home to then just come back.”

I eyed her long dark hair. “Looking good.” I took in her glow. “It’s good to see you looking so happy.”

She smiled. “Yeah, life is better and I have you to thank for that. Thank you for caring when so many wouldn’t have.” The genuine gratitude was clear in her voice.

“I’m glad.” This kind of exchange was awkward for me. It wasn’t often that anyone bothered to thank me for anything. Not even Billy half the time.

Thankfully, we were interrupted when Duvall joined us. Posey quickly excused herself, clearly nervous about being near him.

He watched her go. “She’s not a bad kid. Just got mixed up with the wrong guy.”

I laughed. “Kid? She’s not much younger than us.”

“Age doesn’t mean shit when your maturity levels are out of whack, Tatum.”

“That’s true.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why do you look so tired? They working you hard?”

He sighed. “When do they not?”

Duvall was a good-looking guy. Blond hair, a strong jaw, and blue eyes that saw more than anyone knew gave him a face that women never forgot. And when they got a look at his tall, well-built body they threw themselves at him. The thing I respected the hell out of was the fact he never used any of those things to work his way through a string of women. Duvall was one of the good guys. His kindness and honesty were just a couple of the reasons I forgave his attitude towards me since I’d left the law. I knew he was disappointed in the choices I’d made for my life and that his disappointment manifested as moodiness or anger.

I jerked my chin at the club. “What brings you out here?”

His eyes held mine. “You.”

There was something in his tone that made me want to walk away from this conversation. But I didn’t. My friend deserved more than that. “What’s up?”

“How are you?”

Oh, God. I definitely did not want to have this conversation. Duvall liked to push me for more than I wanted to give. He came from a touchy-feely family who spewed their emotions all over the damn place. Great people, but I was out when it came to doing that. I gave him a smile, as if that would be enough. “I’m doing well.”

“Yeah, see that’s where I don’t believe you.” And out came the side of Duvall I didn’t like—his arrogant side. This was the Duvall who thought he knew better than me. He didn’t drag his arrogance out often, but when he did, I hated it because it usually ended in us having a fight.

I cocked my head, my annoyance flaring. “Why?” I challenged him, my tone one step away from bitchy.

“Tatum, don’t bullshit me. I see straight through it.”

“I don’t know what bullshit you think I’m feeding you, or why you think that, but I’m telling you that I’m okay and life is good.”

He raked his fingers through his hair and muttered, “Fuck.” He paused for a beat before throwing out, “I’ve seen the footage of you leaving the casino with that asshole biker, so I bloody know you are not okay.”

Oh fuck. I thought only Silver Hell had seen that footage. My mouth formed an oh, but I quickly snapped it shut when he zeroed in on it. “It’s not what you thin—”