Page 166 of Dagger

My sons took responsibility for their shortcomings and strived to overcome them. Wasn’t it about time I did the same? I was a fifty-five-year-old man, so why was I still allowing my dad to influence me? My life had been all about the club, just as Bandit’s was.

The club takes priority; the club comes first; club is everything.

But it wasn’t.

Family was everything.

Elise Bell was everything.

The Speed Demons gave me purpose, but Elise and my family fed my soul. There was nothing more I could accomplish here. My kids had learned all the lessons they needed, most of them without my damned input. I was their dad and would always be here for them, but I had to let them do what they were born to do.

Best me.

Exceed me.

Do better than I did.

My kids needed space to grow and evolve, and it was my job as a father to let them fly higher than I ever could.

As always, I looked to Abe for support, even though he wasn’t privy to my thoughts.

My chest loosened when I found he was already staring intently at me.

He knew.

My best friend and brother understood exactly what was on my mind. Not for the first time, I thanked every God in existence for him. He’d supported my unworthy ass since the day I met him when I was sixteen years old, and if anybody kept my shit straight, it was him. This man knew me inside out and stayed with me regardless. Everything good inside me was as a result of him.

I jumped slightly as my cell phone suddenly beeped from my pocket, pulling me back into Church.

“Sent the route to your cell phones,” Breaker stated. “I’ve added a stop every hour so the ol’ ladies can get a break from the bikes. We’ve not had a club run for over a year, and their sweet asses aren’t used to ridin’.”

My hand went to my pocket, and I pulled out my cell as if on autopilot, my mind still dazed by the onslaught of revelations.

Sure enough, Kit had sent us all a detailed route for the big club run.

My stare lifted back to the boys. “Boys—”

“Good call avoiding Mapletree.” Atlas deadpanned. “Riding the outskirts is A-okay, but the thought of driving past Henderson’s old place gives my ass the heebie-jeebies.”

Kit’s eyes bugged out. “Can you fuckin’ imagine?” He pointed at the window. “Oh, look, Kitten, that’s the spot where I slit that skinny fucker’s throat. Good ol’ days, huh?”

Cash chuckled.

I leaned forward. “Boys—”

“Never wanna go into that town again.” Bowie shuddered. “The last thing I need is flashbacks of that Sinner rising up behind that car, pointin’ his gun straight at me. I swear, my life flashed before my eyes.”

I closed my eyes and murmured, “Can I just—?”

“Shame,” Atlas muttered. “That bakery on Smith Street’s the shit—”

A sharp whistle pierced the air. “Boys!” Abe bellowed, dropping his hand. “Prez is trying to say somethin’.”

Every face turned toward me, and my throat heated when I took in their expectant expressions.

Suddenly, I wondered if I was about to do the wrong thing, but then, the thought of another five years doing this shit made my bones ache.

“I’m leavin’ the club,” I blurted out.

---