Page 14 of Her Possessive Bikers

If you're reading this, I guess I finally ran out of road. Don't waste too many tears on your old man – we both know I lived exactly the way I wanted to.

You've made me prouder than any father has a right to be. Every time I visited and saw you saving lives in that ambulance, my chest damn near burst. You've got my stubborn determination but your mother's heart. It's a hell of a combination, baby girl.

But here's something your mother never understood – the club isn't just leather and engines. These men, they're brothers. Family. They've been there through everything, even when I couldn't be there for you. They have kept me straight more times than I can count. They're the only family I had besides you, and now they're yours too. You might be surprised by what you find if you look past the patches and chrome.

I love you, baby girl. Always have, always will.

P.S. Don't let Jacoby Wilson anywhere near my Chevelle. That boy drives like his ass is on fire."

A laugh bubbles up through my tears at the postscript. It's so perfectly Dad – serious one moment, cracking jokes the next. I press the letter to my chest, breathing in the faint scent of leather that clings to the paper.

"Okay, Dad," I whisper. "I'll try."

I tuck Dad's letter into my purse and shake Mr. Greene's hand. The leather chair creaks as I stand, my boots clicking against the polished floor.

"Thank you for everything," I say, gathering the stack of documents. "I'll look these over and get back to you if I have questions."

"Of course. And Ms. Cooper?" He adjusts his wire-rimmed glasses. "Your father spoke of you often. He was immensely proud."

A lump forms in my throat. "Yeah, he mentioned that in his letter."

The air conditioning hits me as I step into the hallway, making me shiver despite the Texas heat waiting outside. My fingers trace the edge of the envelope in my purse, Dad's words still echoing in my head.

The Chevelle's black paint sparkles under the midday sun. I slide behind the wheel, inhaling the familiar scent of leather and old car.

"Family," I murmur, thinking of his words about the club. My hand hovers over the key in the ignition. Through the windshield, I watch people in business suits hurrying past, living their normal Monday lives while mine feels turned inside out.

The engine roars to life, and I can't help but smile. I pull out of the parking lot, muscle memory taking over as I navigate the streets back toward his house.

My phone buzzes from the passenger seat. Millie's name flashes across the screen.

"Hey girl," I answer.

"Are you okay? I'm so sorry I couldn't be there Indy…"

"Mills, I promise you're fine." I assure her.

"Well, how was the funeral?" she asks.

"It was beautiful," I tell her, feeling myself tear up. "Everything Dad would have wanted and more."

She sighs a sigh of relief. "I'm so glad. So, are you wearing leather and riding a Harley yet?"

I snort. "Not quite. Though one of Dad's guys did offer to teach me."

"Ooh, tell me more about these guys. Your dad always made them sound like a bunch of teddy bears with tattoos."

"You're not far off." I say, fiddling with the radio. "There's this one, Kyler – kind of quiet, keeps to himself. Reminded me of that guy from your favorite band."

"Oh shit, the pretty one with the man bun?"

"Exactly like that, actually."

"And the others?"

"Well, there's Jacoby – total flirt, but sweet about it. And then there's Tres..." I trail off, remembering how he'd stood up for me.

"Oh honey, I know that pause. That's the good pause. Dish."

---